St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1907-11-30

thoughtful ana serious IN Cne1r tastes,
she was the gayest, most careless and5
so they all declared, the most frivolous
little body in existence. Everyone
loved pretty Dolly. She was SO sweet
natured, so generous, so full of vitality
and sprightliness, that it was impossi-
Bile to do otherwise.
1t never happened that anyone ever
questioned the domestic talents and
inclinations of Dorothy. 1t had been
settled when she was quite a small
child that Nature had intended her
for little housewife. She could make
the most delicious desserts and the
most toothsome confectionery; she
had such beautiful taste in arranging
the dining-room table and kept the
house so fresh and orderly that no one
ever suspected that she abhorred the
dishpan, hated to make beds, or was
made faint and sick by the sight of
raw meat when she went to market
to select her fathers favorite cuts.
Dolly never said anything about it.
Naturally, no one could be supposed to
know.
Now, it frequently happens that the
careers laid out for US by our friends
are not always the ones we should
select If left to ourselves. This was
the case with Dorothy. Secretly she
longed to be literary, like the rest,
instead of domestic. She did try to
write sometimes, just as the others
did, and worked hard over some eX-
tremely Indifferent little stories which
were destined to travel many weary
miles between herself and various pub
fishers
Dorothy knew we'll enough that her
writing was very poor, and soon
ceased to hope to distinguish her.
self in this way AS a matter of fact,
she did not like to write at all, and
only did so because she hated to be
q drone in this literary beehive. It
was simply bore to her, and she
spent much of her time making
sketches on the margin of her paper,
as Tommy Traddles did in David Cop
perfeld; only instead Of drawing skel-
etons, she made curious brownies and
grotesque animals that it certainly
would have been no sin to worship,
for they were like nothing on earth or
in the waters beneath the earth. The
family called them Dorothy's queer
cows"
At last she despaired altogether,
WI iptc
had all come back she tumbled them
in a heap into a drawer, which she
never opened without a very down-in-
the mouth sort of feeling 1t is to be
feared that just the least little bit
Of a grain of bitterness was in Doro-
thy's heart when she thought of the
position of the household director to
which she had been so summarily rele-
gated by her affectionate friends. Still
the old longing to do something kept
pulling away at her, and when she
began to beg to be allowed to take
drawing lessons at the Art Institute,
her mother said:
"Why not let her do it? The dear
girl has a good many lonesome hours
when we are all away or busy, even
if she is SO domestic. Looking after
the house doesn't take all her time"
why of course" said Mr.. Winters.
''If there's anything in the world that
| can do to give Dorothy a pleasure
I'm only too glad"
ooh, certainly" said sister Lucia.
at will give her something to think
Of, even If she doesn't accomplish
much with it."
And so Dorothy was entered in one
Of the classes of the Art Institute,
and then the family, absorbed in its
own more important affairs, at once
proceeded to forget all about it. No
body ever thought to inquire about her
work except Mr.. Winters, to whom it
occurred once in awhile in a vague
fashion.
And how are the queer cows
daughter?" he would ask, pinching her
soft, round cheek.
ooh, they're just as bad as ever"
Dorothy would say with an answering
smile. "They pop out on the casts
and still life exactly as they did
on the manuscript" She was brave
little soul, and If she felt hurt by
this indulgent neglect she kept it to
herself.
When she had been in the Art Instl-
tute for about year without having
ever seemed to accomplish anything
to attract attention in the least, Mr..
Winters began to talk very much
about a new artist who had of late
been sending in drawings as illustra.
lions of current events. They were
humorous in character, and a good
many of them appeared in his paper.
Everyone said they were remarkably
clever, indeed quite superior to any
furnished by the staff artists. The FAM
lily all enjoyed the pictures greatly,
and they we're the subject of much
favorable comment after every issue
of Mr. Winters paper.
Il believe" he himself said one day,
chat this Henry Page Esmond has
the making of a great artist in him.
Those sketches of his are just bub-
bling over with fun, and his wit is
keen and delicate. I believe his art
will find expression in something
higher than caricature. too"
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