rs of the Sunday papers. His silver cars and
marble palaces are the wonder of a continent. If he condescend to play
golf, it is a national event. "The Richest Man on Earth drives from, the
Tee" is a legend of enthralling interest, not because the hero knows how
to drive, but because he is the richest man on earth. Some time since a
thoughtless headline described a poor infant as "The Ten-Million-Dollar
Baby," and thus made his wealth a dangerous incubus before he was out of
the nursery. Everywhere the same tale is told. The dollar has a power
of evoking curiosity which neither valour nor lofty station may boast.
Plainly, then, the millionaire is not made of common day. Liquid gold
flows in his veins. His eyes are made of precious jewels. It is doubtful
whether he can do wrong. If by chance he does, it is almost certain that
he cannot be punished. The mere sight and touch of him have a virtue far
greater than that which kings of old claimed for themselves. He is at
once the en-sample and the test of modern grandeur; and if, like a Roman
emperor, he could be deified, his admiring compatriots would send him to
the skies, and burn perpetual incense before his tomb.

Though all the millionaires of America are animated by the same
desire,--the collection of dollars,--they regard their inestimable
privileges with very different eyes. Mr Carnegie, for instance, adopts
a sentimental view of money. He falls down in humble worship before the
golden calf of his own making. He has pompously formulated a gospel
of wealth. He piously believes that the millionaire is the greatest of
God's creatures, the eloquent preacher of a new evangel. If we are to
believe him, there is a sacred virtue in the ceaseless accumulation of
riches. It is the first article in his creed, that the millionaire who
stands still is going back, from which it follows that to fall behind in
the idle conflict is a cardinal sin. A simple man might think that when
a manufacturer had made sufficient for the wants of himself and his
family for all time he might, without a criminal intent, relax his
efforts. The simple man does not understand the cult. A millionaire,
oppressed beneath a mountain of gold, would deem it a dishonour to
himself and his colleagues if he lost a chance of adding to the weight
and substance of the mountain.

Mr Carnegie, then, is inspired not by the romance but by the sentiment
of gold. He cannot speak of the enormous benefits conferred upon th