“Very well,” said the Englishman: “I meant a sheep, a creature with four legs, and covered with wool.”
“Ah, you mean von sheap vit de vool!” said the other. “Oh, oui, monsieur; de sheap vit de vool has de tail. Oui, oui.”
This incident taught me a lesson, and I give it gratis to my readers;—if they ever get into a controversy, let them consider whether one of the parties does not mean a ship, and the other a sheep.
The Painter and his Master.
A young painter had just finished an excellent picture, the best that he had made. His master himself found no fault with it. But the young artist was so charmed, that he looked at this specimen of his art incessantly, and neglected his studies; for he now thought himself perfect.
One morning, as he went to rejoice anew over his picture, he discovered that his master had completely defaced it. Angry and weeping, he ran to him and inquired the reason of this cruel act.
The master answered, “It is the work of serious deliberation. The picture was good, as a proof of your advancement, but it was at the same time your ruin.”
“How so?” inquired the young artist.
“Beloved,” answered the master, “you loved no longer the art in your painting, but merely yourself. Believe me, it was not a finished production, even if it appeared so to us; it was only a first effort. Take the pencil then, and see what you can do again. Let not the sacrifice grieve you. The great must be in you, before you can bring it on canvass.”
Courageously, and full of confidence in himself and his master, he seized the pencil and finished his magnificent work, the offering of Iphigenia!—for the name of the artist was Timanthes.