Jack put his brush into his mouth, in defiance of all rules, and deliberately sucked it dry.

Then he waved his sketch before my eyes.
"The effect's rather good," I confessed, "but oh, Jack, it's out of all proportion! That gate really looks as big as the whole valley and the hills beyond.

The top of the gate-post ought to be up in the sky." "It would look beastly ugly if it was," replied he complacently.
"You've got a very good tint for those hills; but the foreground is mere scrambling.

Oh, Jack, do finish it a little more! You would draw so nicely if you had any patience." "How imperfectly you understand my character," said Jack, packing up his traps.

"I would sit on a monument and smile at grief with any one, this very day, if the monument were in a grove, or even if I had an umbrella to smile under.