n two-thirds of
it distracted by the stress of needless work which is only fit for a
navvy, and the only tendency of which can be towards turning him into
one.

[Illustration: FIG. 66.]

A GLASS-RACK FOR WASTE PIECES.

Then the cutter, who throws away half the stuff under his bench! How
easy it would be, if things were thought of from the beginning and the
place built for the work, to have such width of bench and space of
window that, along the latter, easily and comfortably within reach,
should run stages, tier above tier, of strong sheet or thin plate glass,
sloping at such an angle that the cuttings might lie along them against
the light, with a fillet to stop them from falling off. Then it would be
a pleasure, as all handy things are, for the workman to put his bits of
glass there, and when he wanted a piece of similar colour, to raise his
head and choose one, instead of wastefully cutting a fresh piece out of
the unbroken sheet, or wasting his time rummaging amongst the bits on
the bench. A stage on the same principle for _choosing_ glass is
illustrated in fig. 67.

But it is in easels that improvement seems most wanted and would be most
easy, and here I really must tell you a story.

AN INCONVENIENT EASEL.

Having once some very large lights to paint, against time, the friends
in whose shop I was to work (wishing to give me every advantage and to
_save time_), had had special easels made to take in the main part of
each light at once. But an "Easel," in stained-glass work, meaning
always the single slab of plate-glass in a wooden frame, these were of
that type. I forget their exact size and could hazard no guess at their
weight, but it took four men to get one from the ground on to the bench.
Why, I wanted it done a dozen times an hour! and should have wished to
be able to do it at any moment. Instead of that it was, "Now then, Bill;
ease her over!" "Steady!" "Now lift!" "All together, boys!" and so
forth. I wonder there wasn't a strike! But did no one, then, ever see in
a club or hotel a plate-glass window about as big as a billiard-table,
and a slim waiter come up to it, and, with a polite "Would you like the
window open, sir?" quietly lift it with one hand?

[Illustration: FIG. 67.]

A CONVENIENT EASEL.

Fig. 68 is a diagram of the kind of easel I would suggest. It can either
stand on the bench or on the floor, and with the touch of a hand can be
lifted, weighing often well over a hundredweigh