ent below.
The ideal thing now would be to hire a room and do the work on the spot;
but if this is impossible on account of expense and the thing has to
bear a journey, the sections, packed as above described, should be
themselves packed, two or three together, as may be convenient, in an
outer packing-case for travelling. It should be insured, for then a
representative of the railway must attend to certify the packing, and
also extra care will be taken in transit.

Arrived at the shop, the window should be laid out carefully on the
bench and each bit re-leaded into its place, the very fragile pieces
between two bits of thin sheet-glass.

Unless this last practice is adopted _throughout_, the ordinary process
of cementing must be omitted and careful puttying substituted for it.
While if it _is_ adopted the whole must be puttied _before_ cementing,
otherwise the cement will run in between the various thicknesses of
glass. It would be an expensive and tedious and rather thankless
process, for the repairer's whole aim would be to hide from the
spectator the fact that anything whatever had been done.

What does happen at present is this. A country clergyman, or, in the
case of a cathedral, an architectural surveyor, neither of whom know by
actual practice anything technically of stained-glass, hand the job over
to some one representing a stained-glass establishment. This gentleman
has studied stained-glass on paper, and knows as much about cutting or
leading technically and by personal practice, as an architect does of
masonry, or stone-carving--neither more nor less. That is to say, he has
made sketch-books full of water-colour or pencil studies, and endless
notes from old examples, and has never cut a bit of glass in his life,
or leaded it.

Well, he assumes the responsibility, and the client reposes in the
blissful confidence that all is well.

Is all well?

The work is placed in the charge of the manager, and through him it
filters down as part of the ordinary, natural course of events into the
glazing-shop. Here this precious and fragile work of art we have
described is handed over to a number of ordinary working men to treat by
the ordinary methods of their trade. They know perfectly well that
nobody above them knows as much as they, or, indeed, anything at all of
their craft. Division of labour has made them "glaziers," as it has made
the gentlemen above stairs, who do the cartoons or the painting,
"artists."