Sullivan republican. [volume] (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, 1891-06-12

Rmazedl It's all Uncle flaxiey. lie
says he'll give us thousand dollars
apiece when we've each learned real;
bread winning; practical trade. He says
it's what every woman ought to do.
Dora wants to get thousand dollars to
get herself stunning set of diamonds.
Con would like to go to Canada with the
Trelawneys next year, and I-don't tell
anyone, please, Claire and Julian-but
I shall give mine to Rembrandt Alison,
SO that he can go to Paris and study in
the Louvre"
.sGoodl" cried Julian Dover. "Then
It's really true that you are engageds
Kitty, Kitty, an artists wife is d first
class martyr"
s'An artists wife is the happiest crea-
ture in the world, Kitty2" counter as
serted Claire, her soft eyes lighted up
with love. IA thousand dollars Oh,
l wish could make thousand dol
lars"
.'I'm going down town every day to
learn the Graftenburgh SYSTEM" said
Kitty. II shall have to work three long,
endless months before they give me a
diploma; but shall have something to
work for, don't you seea And now
good-by! I'm off for Graftenburgh's"
Uncle Elimelech Flaxley walked
around the house of his cousins widow,
with his hands hooked under his coat
tails, and his blue spectacles balanced on
the bridge of his nose, peering into
everything, criticising everything, and
finding fault with everything.
Mrs. Peter Flaxley smiled at all his
comments. In her eyes his conduct was
perfect.
"What" Uncle Flaxley had cried,
tthree girls, and not one of 'em taught
to earn her living! That's no way to
bring up family, sister Annabel. Every
woman should have trade. Every
woman should be able to support herself
the same as if she were a man.
This was Uncle Flaxley's hobby. He
trotted it out, he bridled it and saddled
it and rode it perpetually, and the upshot
of it was that the thousand dollar propo-
sition was made and promptly accepted
by his three nieces.
ssIt's dreadful!" sighed Mrs. Flaxley !;
"but of course it is our interest to con-
suit your uncles wishes in every re-
spect."
'.Ive always thought should like to
learn dressmaking," said Kitty. One
could clothe ones self at half the ex-
pense. And then a thousand dollars, all
of ones own-think of it."
81 know ever so many nice girls who
do writing" said Constantia, a tall,
willowy girl, with yellow hair and pallid
skin. "If one must have trade, l be-
lieve there's nothing more genteel."
But Theodore, the beauty of the Flax
ley family, turned up her nose.
"Such an absurd idea of Uncle Flax
ley's" said She. sim tolerably de-
cent embroiderer already, and if the
woman's exchange accepts a piece of my
work, suppose the old crank will rec
ognize it as a token of being an expert
in that particular tradel'
And as she shut herself up with silks
and satins and several dozen ounces of
rainbow colored filoselle and crewels, to
design pattern which should take the
world of tapestry by storm.
Kitty wrestled bravely with the tech
nlcalities of the Graftenburgh system.
Constantine worked diligently at the
clicking marvel of the nineteenth GEN.
fury. Theodore was the first to look
back from the plow handles.
~ hate i'll" said she, pettishly. 'I
can't make anything out of it! Such
wooden-lo looking things as my cat-tails
and storks are! mean to go and see
Philomel Alison about it."
Young Rembrandt Alison's studio was
far smaller and less picturesque than
that of his compeer, Julian Dover.
He slept on sofa under the window
of nights, and his sister Philomel, who
kept house for him on the most econ
omcal principles, occupied three
cornered closet at the rear, which she
called bedroom, and which, besides
the ot-bed, held exactly two bandboxes,
and chair with wash-bowl and pitcher
on it.
She was skilled embroidcrer, and
worked her tinger-ends of, while her
brother, rapt in visions of Titan and
Buonarotti, stood before his canvas.
"Children, you work too hard, both
of you," said little, old, yellow-com
plexioned man, who had once known
their father on the Mexican frontier,
and who came occasionally to the studio,
and viewed them with not unkindly eyes.
sits work or starve, sir, )" said Alison,
with short laugh.
"What do you ask for this pictureG"
abruptly questioned Mr.. Flaxley.
"Two hundred dollars-:when it is
finished"
"Tut, toll" said the old man. "Toc
mucnl Two hundred dollars for bit
of canvas eighteen inches sqnare2"
sits not mere bit of canvas" said
Alison, coloring up; sits my brains
my ideas-the visions | see nightly in
nv Sleep"