One day when Giotto, the painter, was taking his Sunday walk, in his
best attire, with a party of friends, at Florence, and was in the midst
of a long story, some pigs passed suddenly by, and one of them, running
between the painter's legs, threw him down. When he got on his legs
again, instead of swearing a terrible oath at the pig on the Lord's day,
as a graver man might have done, he observed, laughing, "People say
these beasts are stupid, but they seem to me to have some sense of
justice, for I have earned several thousands of crowns with their
bristles, but I never gave one of them even a ladleful of soup in my
life."--_Lanzi._
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