so commodious is the Lady chapel, that it is used as a parish church. The cathedral has a number of interesting possessions, chief among which is the large Mappa Mundi made in 1300, and showing the world as then known. It hangs in the south choir aisle. The world is represented as round like a plate, and in addition to the cities and countries marked thereon, there also appear the fabulous animals which were then a part of orthodox geography. It was about this time that there was written the adventures of that famous traveller, Sir John de Maundeville, whose voyages were only exceeded in extent by his imagination. His reports of fabulous beasts, &c., are in excellent accord with the pictures on this map. The ancient glass here is somewhat limited, and is all of the Decorated period. On the south side of the Lady chapel we shall remark two windows, chiefly glazed in greenish grisaille, but each bearing four coloured decorations placed one above the other. In one case these prove to be geometrical designs outlined in colour, while in the other they are small coloured groups, the topmost scene showing Christ, on a red background, pointing upward. Glass even more typically Decorated is to be seen in the eastern wall of the north-east transept, and again in the most easterly embrasure of the south choir ambulatory. These windows each contain four lancets surmounted by tracery lights, and in each lancet is a coloured figure framed in an unusually lofty canopy--in fact the latter is three times as high as the figure it encloses. Note the brassy tone of the early golden stain used in the architecture. Modern grisaille has replaced its ancient prototype, which, in accordance with the conventions, surrounded these early canopies to increase the light-admitting power of the embrasures. This glass was formerly in St. Peter's Church, but about sixty years ago that church disposed of it for £5 to a purchaser who presented it to the cathedral. Limited though it be in amount, it will repay a careful examination. TEWKESBURY As one wanders through the streets of quiet Tewkesbury, the half-timbered houses on every side lend it an Old World flavour that most suitably prepares us for the sturdy Abbey, the dignity of whose recessed west front is all in harmony with the mediæval gravity so characteristic of the place. It is as if that eloquently silent edifice had never been able to shake off the sombre memories of the sanguinary scenes enacted within it May 4, 1471, when, after the defeat of the Lancastrians under the Duke of Somerset by Edward IV. in the "Bloody Meadow" just outside the town, the slaughter of the wearers of the Red Rose was not only carried on through the streets of Tewkesbury, but even into the Abbey itself. An echo of this butchery is heard in Shakespeare's _Richard III._, when the ghost of the murdered Prince Edward (son of Henry VI.) appears to King Richard the night before the fatal battle of Bosworth and cries out: