At Eynsford

I saw a man painting there the other day but passed his work without

looking at it and sat down to sketch some hundred of yards off. In

course of time he came strolling round to see what I was doing and I, not

knowing but what he might paint much better than I, was apologetic and

said I was not a painter by profession.

“What are you?” said he.

The Note-Books of Samuel Butler · 第 430 / 602 题