presiding at the Council of Westminster, and à Becket's successor, Richard of Canterbury, was seated on his right. Roger came in late, and, declining to accept any but the most honoured seat, sat down on Richard's lap, whereupon a brawl ensued, ending in Roger's discomfiture. Pitiable as was this scene, at least it was less disastrous to the people at large than many another episode of this tedious and acrimonious struggle, finally ended by the Bull of Pope Innocent VI., designating the Archbishop of Canterbury as the Primate of all England. York is by all odds the most important of all English glass centres. Although one often finds occasion elsewhere to curse the glass-destroying Puritan, at York it must be admitted that the presence of so many ancient windows is due to the control exercised by Fairfax over his Parliamentary troops after a successful siege of the place. He well deserved the butt of sack and tun of French wine voted him by the Corporation in recognition of his efforts in restraining the misguided enthusiasm of the soldiery. Indeed, his action here almost atones for the devilish tricks at Canterbury of "Blue Dick" Culmer. Even the most casual observer, and one entirely unlearned in our beautiful art, cannot fail to notice how large an amount of wall-space is given over to ancient glass in York Minster. As a matter of fact it covers an area of more than 25,000 square feet, easily double that in any other English cathedral, and challenging comparison with any in the world. Nor are the examples confined to one epoch, for there are fragments of Norman mosaic medallions in the great transepts and the vestibule of the chapter-house, Early English in the "Five Sisters" and along the nave clerestory, Decorated in the nave and chapter-house, and Perpendicular in the choir. Not only are these examples plentiful, but they are of the first order. Entering by the door at the southern end of the great transepts, one is at once confronted by the five tall lancets opposite him in the north wall, filled with the most deliciously soft greyish green grisaille. Of their type there is nothing in the world to approach them for beauty. From where we stand the lead lines used in construction do not exist as lines, but melt away into a dainty film, like dew on the grass at morn. This set of lights is gracefully grouped, and is known by the pleasantly familiar title of the "Five Sisters." Many fanciful tales are told of when and where they were constructed and how they received this name. Dickens in his "Nicholas Nickleby" relates an engaging legend to explain how the design and the name were provided for them. That this legend has no basis in fact should not make us forget that his narrative has doubtless caused many of his readers to visit these windows--a most excellent justification. Dickens tells of five maiden ladies having worked upon a large piece of embroidery and how, years later, when four of them met together in York