“You’d say so if you tried it. I suppose you’re a stranger about here?”
“Yes; this is my first visit, and I’m just sauntering along feasting on the beautiful view. You people who live in the country don’t half appreciate its charms.”
Here the laborer, looking up at the sky and seeing the sun just over his shoulder, dropped his shovel, and, going to a shady spot beside a spring, where he had deposited his dinner-basket, opened it and began to eat. His new acquaintance looked on until he had seen slice after slice of bread and meat emerge from the clean white napkin and disappear, when he said:
“My friend, would you mind sparing me a bit? This walk has made me hungry.”
“Well, now,” replied the laborer, “you’ve been feasting on the view all the morning, while I’ve been grubbing at the stones. If I give you my dinner, then you’ll have two feasts, and I’ll have none.”
If we cultivate our taste for the beautiful, to the neglect of earning our bread, we cannot expect those who deny themselves this luxury, to supply our needs when we come to want.
