is, especially on
green-white glasses, and the red inclining to puce--jam-colour. It is no
use talking, therefore, of "red and yellow"--we must say _what_ red and
_what_ yellow, and how much of each. A magenta-coloured dahlia and a
lemon put together would set, I should think, any teeth on edge; yet
ripe corn goes well with poppies, but not too many poppies--while if one
wing of our butterfly were of its present yellow and the other wing of
the same scarlet as the spot, it would be an ugly object instead of one
of the delights of God. It is interesting, it is fascinating to take the
hint from such things--to splash the golden wings of your Resurrection
Angel as he rolls away the stone with scarlet beads of sunrise, not seen
but _felt_ from where you stand on the pavement below. I want the reader
to fully grasp this question of _quantity_, so I will instance the
flower of the mullein which contains almost the very tints of the
"lemon," and the "dahlia" I quoted, and yet is beautiful by virtue of
its _quantities_: which may be said to be of a "lemon" yellow and yet
can bear (ay! can it _not_?) the little crimson stamens in the heart of
it and its sage-green leaves around.

And there is even something besides "tint" and "quantity." The way you
_distribute_ your colour matters very much. Some in washes, some in
splashes, some in spots, some in stripes. What will "not do" in one way
will often be just right in the other: yes, and the very way you treat
your glass when all is chosen and placed together--matt in one place,
film in another, chequering, cross-hatching, clothing the raw glass with
texture and bringing out its nature and its life.

Do not be afraid; for the things that yet remain to do are numberless.
Do you like the look of deep vivid vermilion-red, upon dark cold green?
Look at the hip-loaded rose-briar burning in the last rays of a red
October sunset! You get physical pleasure from the sight; the eye seems
to vibrate to the harmony as the ear enjoys a chord struck upon the
strings. Therefore do not fear. But mind, it must be in nature's actual
colour, not merely "green" and "red": for I once saw the head of a
celebrated tragic actress painted by a Dutch artist who, to make it as
deathly as he could, had placed the ashen face upon a background of
emerald-green with spots of actual red sealing-wax. The eye was so
affected that the colours swung to and fro, producing in a short time a
nausea like sea-sickness. Th