usually in great part stained golden. Blue certainly has one advantage
over yellow, in that it has the privilege of colouring some of the
prettiest eyes in the world. Yellow has a chance only in cases of
jaundice and liver complaint, and his colour scheme in such cases is
seldom appreciated. Again, green has the contract for the greater bulk
of the vegetable life of the globe; but his is a monotonous business,
like the painting of miles and miles of palings: grass, grass, grass,
trees, trees, trees, _ad infinitum_; whereas yellow leads a roving,
versatile life, and is seldom called upon for such monotonous labour.
The sands of Sahara are probably the only conspicuous instance of yellow
thus working by the piece. It is in the quality, in the diversity of the
things it colours, rather than in their mileage or tonnage, that yellow
is distinguished; though, for that matter, we suppose, the sun is as big
and heavy as most things, and that is yellow. Of course, when we say
yellow we include golden, and all varieties of the colour--saffron,
orange, flaxen, tawny, blonde, topaz, citron, etc.

If the sun may reasonably be described as the most important object in
the world, surely money is the next. That, as we know, is, in its most
potent metallic form, yellow also. The 'yellow gold' is a favourite
phrase in certain forms of poetry; and 'yellow-boys' is a term of
natural affection among sailors. Following the example of their lord the
sun, most fires and lights are yellow or golden, and it is only in
times of danger or superstition that they burn red or blue. And, if
yellow be denied entrance to beautiful eyes, it enjoys a privilege
which--except in the case of certain indigo-staining African tribes, who
cannot be said to count--blue has never claimed: that of colouring
perhaps the loveliest thing in the world, the hair of woman. Hair is
naturally golden--unnaturally also. When Browning sings pathetically of
'dear dead women--with such hair too!' he continues:--