Beyond the Market-place the streets become narrow, except at the triangular space, half-way to the Minster, called the Wednesday Market, and I cannot honestly say that there is any charm or attractiveness to be found in this portion of the city. There is a rather poverty-stricken appearance in the houses and the shops that seems unnecessary, and hardly what we should expect on approaching the Minster precincts. When, in time, the splendid pile appears in front of us, it is with a sense of intense disappointment that we find the surroundings utterly unworthy. All who know Winchester or Salisbury or Canterbury realize the intense charm of their beautiful closes, where stately cedars pronounce a benediction over the gables and ancient leaded windows of houses whose every detail is exquisite. At Beverley, instead of any small suggestion of such charm, we find modern cottages, which, if not aggressively ugly, are so woefully out of place that they should be swept away at any cost. On the south side there is a space of uneven ground partially enclosed by dilapidated fragments of fence, littered with rubbish, and surrounded by squalid little houses. The unfinished aspect of this miserable scene is less depressing than it might otherwise be, in the hope it inspires that some scheme of improvement may make use of the present opportunity. It is on account of its dismal environment on the south side that I prefer the north, and in painting the western towers under an evening light I have chosen a time when the commonplace cottages facing them lose their offensiveness. Without the towers I should not regard the exterior of the Minster with any real pleasure, for the Early English chancel and greater and lesser transepts, although imposing and massive, are lacking in proper proportion, and in that deficiency suffer a loss of dignity. The eulogies so many architects and writers have poured out upon the Early English work of this great church, and the strangely adverse comments the same critics have levelled at the Perpendicular additions, do not blind me to what I regard as a most strange misconception on the part of these people. The homogeneity of the central and eastern portions of the Minster is undeniable, but because what appears to be the design of one master-builder of the thirteenth century was apparently carried out in the short period of twenty years, I do not feel obliged to consider the result beautiful. The five pairs of turrets at the outer angles of the transepts and chancel are so ponderous and so tall that they dwarf the great gables and spoil the general outline by their wrong proportions. And as for the windows, they are unrestful and unpleasing to the eye in a way that is typical of the period. I explain my dislike for this style of English church architecture from the lack of those continuous lines that made their appearance in the Decorated period, and not only softened the crude