I am going, under His orders, therefore, to give you some topazes of Ethiopia,—(at least, of the Ural mountains, where the topazes are just as good,)—and all manner of coral, that you may know what co-operative societies are working, to make your babies their rattles and necklaces, without any steam to help them, under the deep sea, and in its foam; also, out of the Tay, the fairest river of the British Isles, we will fetch some pearls that nobody shall have drawn short breath for: and, indeed, all the things that Solomon in his wisdom sent his ships to Tarshish for,—gold, and silver, ivory, and apes, and peacocks,—you shall see in their perfection, and have as much of as St. George thinks good for you: (only remember, in order to see an ape in perfection, you must not be an ape yourself, whatever Mr. Darwin may say; but must admire, without imitating their prehensile activities, nor fancy that you can lay hold on to the branches of the tree of life with your tails instead of your hands, as you have been practising lately). And, in the meantime, I must stop writing, because I’ve to draw a peacock’s breast-feather, and paint as much of it as I can without having heaven to dip my brush in. And when you have seen what it is, you shall despise it—if you can—for heaven itself. But for nothing less! My fragment does not quite end here; but in its following statements of plans for the Sheffield Museum, anticipates more than I think Atropos would approve; besides getting more figurative and metaphysical than you would care to read after your Christmas dinner. But here is a piece of inquiry into the origin of all riches, Solomon’s and our own, which I wrote in May, 1873, for the ‘Contemporary Review,’ and which, as it sums much of what I may have too vaguely and figuratively stated in my letters, may advisably close their series for this year. It was written chiefly in reply to an article by Mr. Greg, defending the luxury of the rich as harmless, or even beneficent to the poor. Mr. Greg had, on his part, been reproving Mr. Goldwin Smith—who had spoken of a rich man as consuming the means of living of the poor. And Mr. Greg pointed out how beneficially for the poor, in a thousand channels, the rich man spent what he had got. Whereupon I ventured myself to inquire, “How he got it?” and the paper went on thus,—‘Which is indeed the first of all questions to be asked when the economical relations of any man with his neighbour are to be examined. Dick Turpin is blamed—suppose—by some plain-minded person, for consuming the means of other people’s living. “Nay,” says Dick to the plain-minded person, “observe how beneficently and pleasantly I spend whatever I get!” “Yes, Dick,” persists the plain-minded person, “but how do you get it?” “The question,” says Dick, “is insidious, and irrelevant.”