He could talk glibly and superficially about books; he simulated considerable enthusiasm for the books which Andrew admired.

His mistake and his consequent overthrow came, as always in such cases, from a desire to overdo.

It was after half an hour of talking without tripping that Andrew suddenly asked: "Do you like the ever-to-be-admired Xenophanes ?" It certainly is no disgrace to any literary man not to know anything of so remote a philosopher as Xenophanes.

The first characteristic of a genuine literary man is the frankness with which he confesses his ignorance.

But Humphreys did not really know but that Xenophanes was part of the daily reading of a man of letters.
"Oh! yes," said he.