Albert Bierstadt paintings

Rosanna (to put the Person before the Thing, which is but common politeness) was the only new servant in our house. About four months before the time I am writing of, my lady had been in London, and had gone over a reformatory, intended to save forlorn women from drifting back into bad ways, after they had got released from prison. The matron, seeing my lady took an interest in the place, pointed out a girl to her, named Rosanna Spearman, and told her a most miserable story, which I haven't the heart to repeat here; for I don't like to be made wretched without any use, and no more do you. The upshot of i

Thomas Kinkade Living Waters painting

match the dress. Come now, sit in."
"I don't see how I'm going to eat breakfast," said Anne rapturously. "Breakfast seems so commonplace at such an exciting moment. I'd rather feast my eyes on that dress. I'm so glad that puffed sleeves are still fashionable. It did seem to me that I'd never get over it if they went out before I had a dress with them. I'd never have felt quite satisfied, you see. It was lovely of Mrs. Lynde to give me the ribbon too. I feel that I ought to be a very good girl indeed. It's at times like this I'm sorry I'm not a model little girl; and I always resolve that I will be in future. But somehow it's hard to carry out your resolutions when irresistible temptations come. Still, I really will make an extra effort after this."
When the commonplace breakfast was over Diana appeared, crossing the white log bridge in the hollow, a gay little figure in her crimson ulster. Anne flew down the slope to meet her.
"Merry Christmas, Diana! And oh, it's a wonderful Christmas. I've something splendid to show you. Matthew has given me the loveliest dress, with such sleeves. I couldn't even imagine any nicer."

Daniel Ridgway Knight A Passing Conversation painting

her mother told her she could ask me to go home with her from school and stay all night with her. And her cousins are coming over from Newbridge in a big pung sleigh to go to the Debating Club concert at the hall tomorrow night. And they are going to take Diana and me to the concert--if you'll let me go, that is. You will, won't you, Marilla? Oh, I feel so excited."
"You can calm down then, because you're not going. You're better at home in your own bed, and as for that club concert, it's all nonsense, and little girls should not be allowed to go out to such places at all."
"I'm sure the Debating Club is a most respectable affair," pleaded Anne.
"I'm not saying it isn't. But you're not going to begin gadding about to concerts and staying out all

canvas painting

Madame Defarge cast down her eyes, and reflected a little. `The child also,' observed Jacques Three, with a meditative enjoyment of his words, `has golden hair and blue eyes. And we seldom have a child there. It is a pretty sight!'
`In a word,' said Madame Defarge, coming out of her short abstraction, `I cannot trust my husband in this matter.
Not only do I feel, since last night, that I dare not confide to him the details of my projects; but also I feel that if I delay, there is danger of his giving warning, and then they might escape.
`That must never be,' croaked Jacques Three; `no one must escape. We have not half enough as it is. We ought to have six score a day.'
`In a word,' Madame Defarge went on, `my husband has not my reason for pursuing this family to annihilation, and I have not his reason for regarding this Doctor with any sensibility. I must act for myself, therefore. Come hither, little citizen.
The wood-sawyer, who held her in the respect, and himself in the submission, of mortal fear, advanced with his hand to his red

Aubrey Beardsley paintings

narrative he had heard, he had heard his condemnation. He had fully comprehended that no personal influence could possibly save him, that he was virtually sentenced by the millions, and that units could avail him nothing.
Nevertheless, it was not easy, with the face of his beloved wife fresh before him, to compose his mind to what it must bear. His hold on life was strong, and it was very, very hard to loosen; by gradual efforts and degrees unclosed a little here, it clenched the tighter there; and when he brought his strength to bear on that hand and it yielded, this was closed again. There was a hurry, too, in all his thoughts, a turbulent and heated working of his heart, that contended against resignation. If for a moment, he did feel resigned, then his wife and child who had to live after him, seemed to protest and to make it a selfish thing.
But, all this was at first. Before long, the consideration that there was no disgrace in the fate he must meet, and that numbers went the same road wrongfully, and trod it firmly every day, sprang up to stimulate him. Next followed the thought that much of the future peace of mind enjoyable by the dear ones, depended on his quiet fortitude. So, by degrees he calmed into the better state, when he could raise his thoughts much higher, and draw comfort down.

painting in oil

They laid themselves down to sleep again, and then the tailor threw a stone down on the second.
"What is the meaning of this?" cried the other. "Why are you pelting me?"
"I am not pelting you," answered the first, growling.
They disputed about it for a time, but as they were weary they let the matter rest, and their eyes closed once more. The little tailor began his game again, picked out the biggest stone, and threw it with all his might on the breast of the first giant.
"That is too bad!" cried he, and sprang up like a madman, and pushed his companion against the tree until it shook. The other paid him back in the same coin, and they got into such a rage that they tore up trees and belabored each other so long, that at last they both fell down dead on the ground at the same time. Then the little tailor leapt down.

Alfred Gockel paintings

nicht Hand noch Fuß regen. Nun war die Sonne unter; die Eule flog in einen Strauch, und gleich darauf kam eine alte krumme Frau aus diesem hervor, gelb und mager: große rote Augen, krumme Nase, die mit der Spitze ans Kinn reichte. Sie murmelte, fing die Nachtigall und trug sie auf der Hand fort. Joringel konnte nichts sagen, nicht von der Stelle kommen; die Nachtigall war fort.
Endlich kam das Weib wieder und sagte mit dumpfer Stimme: "Grüß dich, Zachiel, wenn's Möndel ins Körbel scheint, bind lose Zachiel, zu guter Stund."
Da wurde Joringel los. Er fiel vor dem Weib auf die Knie und bat, sie möchte ihm seine Jorinde wiedergeben, aber sie sagte, er sollte sie nie wiederhaben, und ging fort. Er rief, er weinte, er jammerte, aber alles umsonst. "Uu, was soll mir geschehen?"
Joringel ging fort und kam endlich in ein fremdes Dorf; da hütete er die Schafe lange Zeit. Oft ging er rund um das Schloß herum, aber nicht zu nahe dabei. Endlich träumte er einmal des Nachts, er fände