Mother and Child

Mother and Child
My Sweet Rose painting
Naiade oil painting
Nighthawks Hopper
Nude on the Beach
¡¡¡¡ He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a morning like this, and would never draw there any more. "I've seen him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! But he was too clever to bide here any longer--a small sleepy place like this!" ¡¡¡¡ A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning was a little foggy, and the boy's breathing unfurled itself as a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outcry: ¡¡¡¡ "Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!" ¡¡¡¡ It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well stood--nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet of Marygreen.