Thomas Kinkade elegant evening painting

Thomas Kinkade elegant evening painting
Thomas Kinkade Deer Creek Cottage painting
roads, grim, rough, swart, steeped in the mud and dust of many highways, dank with the marshy moisture of many low grounds, sprinkled with the thorns and leaves and moss of many byways through woods.
Such a man came upon him, like a ghost, at noon in the July weather, as he sat on his heap of stones under a bank, taking such shelter as he could get from a shower of hail.
The man looked at him, looked at the village in the hollow, at the mill, and at the prison on the crag. When he had identified these objects in what benighted mind he had, he said, in a dialect that was just intelligible:
`How goes it, Jacques?'
`All well, Jacques.'
`Touch then!'
They joined hands, and the man sat down on the heap of stones.
`No dinner?'