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 As we said, it shows the city as seen from some imaginary bird's-eye vantage, perhaps somewhere above the Girard Avenue Bridge. The bending course of the Schuylkill is shown in a ribbon of deep blue; the broader and paler stretch of the Delaware closes the canvas to the east; the whole city from Cramps' shipyard down to Hog Island lies under the gaze, with the brilliance of the evening lights shining up through the soft blue dusk. The prevailing tone of the painting is blue; but examined closely the white of snow-covered roofs and the golden glow of street lights sparkling upward from the channels of the city, together with the varied tints of the masonry, lend a delightful exuberance of color, though always kept within the restrained and shadowy soberness of a winter twilight.

This painting seemed to us so remarkable an achievement that we were immediately interested and made some inquiries to find out who had done it. The story is interesting, as any story of achievement is, and it also has a touch of poignant tragedy.

In the bitter snowy days of the winter of 1917-18—and there is no Philadelphian who does not remember what that winter was like—a young artist of this city spent the daylight of almost every snowy day out on the streets with his paint box. He climbed to the top of high buildings, he haunted the Schuylkill bridges with his sketchbook, and with numbed fingers he sat on ice-crusted cornices or