Bob Bistre, the eldest, was my apprentice, and must become famous in consequence; and when he was twenty-five years old, and money became no object to me (through the purchase by a great art critic of the very worst picture I ever painted; half of it, in fact, was Bob’s!), I gave the boy choice of our autumn trip to California, or the antipodes.
— from Tales from the Telling-House by R. D. (Richard Doddridge) Blackmore
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