madonna with the yarnwinder painting

madonna with the yarnwinder painting
Mother and Child
My Sweet Rose painting
Naiade oil painting
　The Irish Mail rushed through the night. Or, morecorrectly through the darkness of the early morning hours.
　　At intervals the diesel engine gave its weirdbanshee warning cry. It was travelling at well over eighty miles an hour. It was on time.
　　Then, with some suddenness, the pace slackened asthe brakes came on. The wheels screamed as they gripped the metals. Slower… slower…. The guard put his head out of the windownoting the red signal ahead as the train came to a final halt. Some of the passengers wokeup. Most did not.
oil painting
　　One elderly lady, alarmed by the suddenness of thedeceleration, opened the door and looked out along the corridor. A little way along one ofthe doors to the line was open. An elderly cleric with a thatch of thick white hair wasclimbing up from the permanent way. She presumed he had previously climbed down to theline to investigate.
　　The morning air was distinctly chilly. Someone atthe end of the corridor said: "Only a signal." The elderly lady withdrew into her compartment and tried to go to sleepagain.