The Yoke of the Thorah

The Yoke of the Thorah

IT was the last day of November, 1882. The sun had not shone at all that day. The wind, sharp-edged, had blown steadily from the northeast. The clouds, leaden of hue and woolly of texture, had hung very close to the earth. Weather-wise people had predicted snowthe first snow of the season; but none had fallen. Rheumatic people had had their tempers whetted. Impressionable people, among them Elias Bacharach, had been beset by the blues. Elias had tried hard to absorb himself in his work; but without success. His colors would not blend. His brushes had lost their cunning. His touch was uncertain. His eye was false. At two o'clock he had given up in despair, and sent his model home. Then he sat down at the big window of his studio, and looked off across the tree-tops into the lowering north. A foolish thing to do. It was a cheerless prospect. In the clouds he could trace a hundred sullen faces. The tree-tops shivered. The whistling wind, the noises of the street, the drone of a distant hand-organ, mingled in dreary, enervating counterpoint. His own mood darkened. Though he had every reason to be contentedthough he had youth, art, independence, excellent health, sufficient wealth, and not a care in the worldhe was nervous and restless and depressed. The elements were to blame. Under gray skies, which of us has not had pretty much the same experience? ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 54854
Author: Harland, Henry
Release Date: Jun 6, 2017
Format: eBook
Language: English