Francis Hopkinson Smith

Francis Hopkinson Smith

Summary

Portrait of Francis Hopkinson Smith Francis Hopkinson Smith,  The Man In The High-Water Boots

“ We had started for the mill now, the Man from the Quarter lugging the boots, still hoping there might be some truth in the trout story, the Sculptor with the palette (big as a tea-tray) , Knight with the ladder, and I with the wet canvas.
Again the cry rang out: “Marie! Marie!” and again the old woman started on a run—for the kitchen this time (she had been listening for this halloo—he generally came in wringing wet) —reappearing as we reached the hall door, her apron full of clothes swept from a drying line stretched before the big, all-embracing fireplace.
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Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Francis Hopkinson Smith Francis Hopkinson Smith,  The Man In The High-Water Boots

“ The ocean surf repeats itself in its recurl and swash and by close watching a painter has often a chance to use his “second barrel,” so to speak, but the upturned face of an unruly brook-is not only million-tinted and endless in its expression, but so sensitive in its reflections that every passing cloud and patch of blue above it saddens or cheers it.
“Yes, painting water is enough to drive you mad,” burst out Knight, “but I don't intend to paint anything else—not for years, any way. Hired the mill so I could paint the water running away from you downhill.
”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Francis Hopkinson Smith Francis Hopkinson Smith,  The Man In The High-Water Boots

“ We were at Dives at the time, lunching in the open courtyard of the inn, three of us, when the talk drifted toward the young painter, his life at his old mill near Eure and his successes at the Salon and elsewhere. Our host, the Sculptor, had come down in his automobile—a long, low, double-jointed crouching tiger—a forty-devil-power machine, fearing neither God nor man, and which is bound sooner or later to come to an untimely end and the scrap heap. ”
Source: Gutenberg

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