The Novels, Stories And Sketches of F. Hopkinson Smith..
The Novels, Stories And Sketches of F. Hopkinson Smith..
Smith Francis Hopkinson
The book The Novels, Stories And Sketches of F. Hopkinson Smith.. was written by author Smith Francis Hopkinson Here you can read free online of The Novels, Stories And Sketches of F. Hopkinson Smith.. book, rate and share your impressions in comments. If you don't know what to write, just answer the question: Why is The Novels, Stories And Sketches of F. Hopkinson Smith.. a good or bad book?
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Strange things were going on downstairs. Outside on the street curb stood a darkey in white cotton gloves, in the main door stood an- other, the two connected by a red carpet laid across the sidewalk ; at the end of the dingy corridor stood a third, and inside the room on the right a fourth and fifth — all in white gloves and all bowing like salaaming Hindoos to a throng of people in smart toilettes. Woods was having a tea ! The portrait of Miss B. J. — in a leghorn hat and feathers, one hand o...n her chin, her pet dog in her lap — was finished, and the B. J.'s were 177 Digitized by Google THE WOOD FIRE IN NO. 3 assisting Woods's aunt and Woods in celebrat- ing that historical event. The function being an exclusive one, all the details were perfect : there were innumerable candles sputtering away in improvised holders of twisted iron, china, and dingy brass, the grease running down the sides of their various ornaments; there were burn- ing joss sticks ; loose heaps of bric-i-brac which looked as if they had been thrown pell-mell together, but which it had taken Woods hours to group; there were combinations of partly screened lights falling on pots of roses ; easels draped in stuffs ; screens hung with Japanese and Chinese robes; divans covered with rugs and nested with green and yellow cushions; and last, but by no means least, there was the counterfeit presentment of the young girl who held court on the divan surrounded by an ad- miring group of admirers, some of whom de- clared that the likeness was perfect ; others, that it did not do her justice, and still another — this time an art critic — who said under his breath that the dog was the only thing on the canvas that looked alive.
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