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"Me and My Little Old Torch and My Spiel"
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"Me and My Little Old Torch and My Spiel"
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N.C. Wyeth
(American, 1882 - 1945)
"Me and My Little Old Torch and My Spiel"
1905
dimensions unavailable
SUPP2000.1900
Known by reproduction only
Not on view
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"My father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel against what he foresaw was my design"
N.C. Wyeth
1920
My confusion, I think, derived from my complete unfamiliarity with this sort of thing. I sat breathless, watching the strange exotic creature before me
N.C. Wyeth
1923
The last morning Rowena came to my fire and, snatching the spider from me, took the job off my hands, baking the cakes while I ate
N.C. Wyeth
1921
The Child "Whosoever shall receive this child in my name receiveth me: and whosoever shall receive me receiveth him that sent me: for he that is least among you all, the same shall be great." --Luke 9 : 48.
N.C. Wyeth
1923
She Seemed About Four Miles Off from Me, and There was a Right Cold Current Blowin' in My Direction
N.C. Wyeth
1905
"I laid me down flat on my belly on the ground, and began to look for the place"
N.C. Wyeth
1920
Dropping one of the sage-hens I asked the man behind me to pick it up. As he was groping for it I pulled one of my Colt's revolvers, and hit him over the head. He dropped senseless. // "Wheeling about I saw that the other man, hearing the fall, had turned, his hand upon his revolver. It was no time for argument. I fired and killed him."
N.C. Wyeth
1916
"- and then he kneeled down again, kissed the ground, and taking me by the foot, set my foot upon his head"
N.C. Wyeth
1920
For a moment he seemed to be looking right at me. This was my first sight of Bowie Bushyager
N.C. Wyeth
1921
Back and forth across it we went, twisting, straining, holding our strength, each striving to break the grip of the other's fingers on his wrist. I felt his breath upon my face, saw his cold eyes like blue fire burning me.
N.C. Wyeth
ca. 1914
He stopped two or three steps up and sang me a little song-quite like the old Dave
N.C. Wyeth
1913
"Ahi! If he hurts so much as the little finger of my captain," Memgumban screamed, "I shall tie you to an ant hill." And he leaped at the Chinaman with his kris
N.C. Wyeth
1919