nd, again, is the
advertising tradesman quite wise in offending so many eyes with his
succession of ugly hoardings standing impertinently in green fields?
Can it be that the sight of them sets up that disorder of the liver which
he promises to cure? And if not, might he not call attention to his wares
at least as effectively, if more summarily, by making them the excuse for
a vision of delight which passengers would drop their newspapers to gaze
upon? Lastly, the railway companies themselves have discovered the
commercial value of scenery. Years ago, and long before their discovery
(and as if by a kind of instinct they were blundering towards it) they
began to offer prizes for the best-kept station gardens--with what happy
result all who have travelled in South Wales will remember. They should
find it easy to learn that the 'development' of watering-places and
holiday resorts may be profitably followed up by spending care upon their
approaches.

But I come back to my imaginary millionaire--the benevolent man who only
wants to be instructed how to spend his money--the 'magnificent man' of
Aristotle's _Ethics_, nonplussed for the moment, and in despair of
discovering an original way of scattering largesse for the public good.
For, while anxious to further my scheme by conciliating the commercial
instinct, I must insist that its true beauty resides in the conception of
our railways as vast public parks only hindered by our sad lack of
inventiveness from ministering to the daily delight of scores of thousands
and the occasional delight of almost everyone. The millionaire I want is
one who can rise to this conception of it, and say with Blake--

"I will not cease from mental fight,"

(Nor from pecuniary contribution, for that matter)

"Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land."

For these millionaires are bediamonded all over with good intentions.
The mischief with them is their lack of inventiveness. Most of my readers
will agree that there is no easier game of solitaire than to suppose
yourself suddenly endowed with a million of money, and to invent modes of
dispensing it for the good of your kind. As a past master of that game I
offer the above suggestion gratis to those poor brothers of mine who have
more money than they know how to use.

The railway--not that of the quickset hedges, but the Great Western, on to
which I changed