When the ev’ning shadows lengthen Down the hill and ’cross the vale, And the trees are imaged darkly Where the river glimmers pale; Then I love to sit and listen, While the air is warm and still, To a voice from out the poplars, Crying softly, “Whip-poor-will!” Slowly, slowly creeps the twilight From the east unto the west, Till it fills the peaceful valley, Sends the forest folk to rest; All except a noisy fellow In the poplars near the mill, Whose demands are most insistent For the punishment of “Will.” Soon the vale is dark and lonely, Closed in sleep each drowsy eye; Through the clouds the stars are peeping For their watch tower in the sky; Only winds that whisper softly, In the poplars by the mill, Listen to the night-bird calling, Till the daybreak, “Whip-poor-will.” --_Geo. E. Winkler._ LITTLE POLLY PRENTISS BY ELIZABETH LINCOLN GOULD CHAPTER XVI IN THE BARN SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Polly Prentiss is an orphan who, for the greater part of her life, has lived with a distant relative, Mrs. Manser, the mistress of Manser Farm. Miss Hetty Pomeroy, a maiden lady of middle age, has, ever since the death of her favorite niece, been on the lookout for a little girl whom she might adopt. She is attracted by Polly’s appearance and quaint manners, and finally decides to take her home and keep her for a month’s trial. In the foregoing chapters, Polly has arrived at her new home, and the great difference between the way of living at Pomeroy Oaks and her past life affords her much food for wonderment. In the meantime Miss Pomeroy has inwardly decided that she will keep Polly with her, but as yet she has not spoken to the little girl of her intentions. While the old people at Manser Farm were reading Polly’s letter, the little girl herself was listening with a sober face to a piece of news which had come to Miss Pomeroy. It was eight o’clock--past Polly’s bed-time--but she was so anxious to finish the wonderful story of the Snow Queen that Miss Hetty had offered to read the last pages aloud. She had reached the end only a moment before Hiram brought the mail. “Bobby--my little nephew--is coming here to spend Sunday on his way to see another aunt, his mother’s sister,” said Miss Pomeroy, looking up from her letter to Polly, who stood waiting to say good-night. “I’m very glad, Mary, for I am sure you two children will enjoy each other, you are both so quiet and fond of books. Perhaps we can persuade Bobby to make us a longer visit on the way home.” That night and the next morning Polly stretched in Ebenezer’s fashion until her little arms and legs ached. She made up her mind that she would lose no opportunity for the next three days of performing this gymnastic exercise or of hurrying on her growing likeness to Eleanor in other ways.