Caillebotte Rooftops Under Snow

Caillebotte Rooftops Under SnowCaillebotte Rising RoadCaillebotte Regatta at ArgenteuilCaillebotte Paris Street rainy weather
Frodo was now House east of the Sea. That house was, as Bilbo had long ago reported, `a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep, or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant remembered: it looked remarkably like the young nephew of Bilbo who used to go tramping with his uncle in the Shire; but the eyes looked out at him thoughtfully.`Yes, you have seen a thing or two since you last peeped out of a looking-glass,' he said to his reflection. 'But now for a merry meeting!'He stretched out his arms and whistled a tune.At that moment there was a knock on the door, and Sam came in. He ran to Frodo and took his left hand, awkwardly and shyly. He stroked it gently and then he blushed and turned hastily away.`Hullo, Sam!' said Frodo.`It's warm!' said Sam. `Meaning your hand, Mr. Frodo. It has felt so cold through the mixture of them all'. Merely to be there was a cure for weariness, fear, and sadness.As the evening drew on, Frodo woke up again, and he found that he no longer felt in need of rest or sleep, but had a mind for food and drink, and probably for singing and story-telling afterwards. He got out of bed and discovered that his arm was already nearly as useful again as it ever had been. He found laid ready clean garments of green cloth that fitted him excellently. Looking in a mirror he was startled to see a much thinner reflection of himself than he