The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1891-06-10

ture in the world, Kitty2" counter as
serted Claire, her soft eyes lighted up
with love. ga thousand dollars Oh,
l wish could make a thousand dol
larsl"
"Tm going down town every day to
learn the Graftenburgh system" said
Kitty. '1 shall have to work three long,
endless months before they give me a
diplomat but shall have something to
work for, don't you sect And now
good-byi I'm of for Graftenburgh'sp
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.
"Whatp Uncle Flaxley had cried,
"three girls, and not one of 'em taught
to earn her livingl That's no way to
bring up family, sister Annabel. Every
woman should have a trade. Every
woman should be able to support hers elf
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.
"It's dreadfulp sighed Mrs. Flaxley;
"but of course it is our interest to con-
suit your uncles wishes in every re-
spect."
'I've 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."
"I know ever so many nice girls who
do type-writing, said Constantia, tall,
willowy girl, with yellow hair and pallid
skin. "If one must have trade, 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'sW said she. 'I'm tolerably de-
cent embroiderer already, and if the
woman's exchange accepts piece of my
work, l suppose the old crank will rec
ognize it as 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 floselle and crewels, to
design pattern which should take the
world of tapestry by storm.
,trrasflaI hrouoltr xxritl fha faoh
nIcalities of the Graftenburgh system.
Constantine worked diligently at the
clicking marvel of the nineteenth CEN
tury. Theodore was the first to look
back from the plow-handles.
az hate It'll" said she, pettishly. 81
can't make anything out of it! Such
wooden-looking things as my cat-tails
and storks arel 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
omical principles, occupied three
cornered closet at the rear, which she
called a bedroom, and which, besides
the cot-bed, held exactly two bandboxes,
and a chair with wash-bowl and pitcher
on it.
She was a skilled embroiderer, and
worked her finger-ends off, while her
brother, rapt in visions of Titan and
Buonarotti, stood before his canvas.
"Children, you work too hard, both
of you," said a 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.
"It's work or starve, sir, +" said Alison,
with short laugh.
"What do you ask for this picture2"
abruptly questioned Mr.. Flaxley.
"Two hundred dollars-when it is
finished"
"Tut, tutl" said the old man. "Too
mucnl Two hundred dollars for a bit
of canvas eighteen inches squarel"
ats not mere bit of canvas" said
Alison, coloring up; sits my brains
my ideas-the visions l see nightly in
my sleep"
"I'n give you fifty dollars for it,"
hazar1ed the yellow ow-complexioned man,
81 couldn't possibly sell it for that"
"Humphl humph" snorted Flaxley.
"The next l know, Philly here will be
wanting to sell her bit of brown-and-
yellow needlework for two hundred dol
lars, tooi"
Philamel looked gravely up from her
work.
"No," she said. "I'm to receive fifty
dollars for it. 1t is an order"
"What is the world coming tol" cried
Mr.. Flaxley. "People must be aching
to spend their money. What is the
thing, auyhow-ducks padding in
pondl"
Philomel shook her head.
"Herons, said she, sin marsh full
of reeds and rushes. Those lines of yellow
| silk-see2-arS. where the sunshine
strikes the water.
Flaxley peered obviously at the mass
of bright colors.
"One has 10 exercise considerable i'm
agination, said he.
81 wonder said Philomel to her
brother, after the fussy little visitor was
gone, ''if ought to have told him that
| was doing this work for his niece in
Radcliffe street,"
"'Speech is silver, silence is golden, "
said Rembrandt Alison, mechanically.
SITS always best not TO talk. Do you
] thinIr phil IiJa Crot tho rod fnn doan