osition
in the midst of a pile of pancakes, into which he had sunk.

The old statue of St. Hugh at Lincoln is an attractive early Gothic
work. In 1743 he was removed from his precarious perch on the top
of a stone pinnacle, and was placed more firmly afterwards. In a
letter from the Clerk of the Works this process was described.
"I must acquaint you that I took down the antient image of St.
Hugh, which is about six foot high, and stood upon the summit of a
stone pinnacle at the South corner of the West Front... and pulled
down twenty-two feet of the pinnacle itself, which was ready to
tumble into ruins, the shell being but six inches thick, and the
ribs so much decayed that it declined visibly.... I hope to see
the saint fixed upon a firmer basis before the Winter." On the top
of a turret opposite St. Hugh is the statue of the Swineherd of
Stowe. This personage became famous through contributing a peck of
silver pennies toward the building of the cathedral. As is usually
the case, the saint and the donor therefore occupy positions of
equal exaltation! The swineherd is equipped with a winding horn.
A foolish tradition without foundation maintains that this figure
does not represent the Swineherd at all, but is a play upon the
name of Bishop Bloet,--the horn being intended to suggest "Blow
it!" It seems hardly possible to credit the mediaeval wit with no
keener sense of humour than to perpetrate such a far-fetched pun.

The Lincoln Imp, who sits enthroned at the foot of a cul-de-lampe
in the choir, is so familiar to every child, now, through his
photographs and casts, that it is hardly necessary to describe
him. But many visitors to the cathedral fail to come across the old
legend of his origin. It is as follows: "The wind one day brought
two imps to view the new Minster at Lincoln. Both imps were greatly
impressed with the magnitude and beauty of the structure, and one
of them, smitten by a fatal curiosity, slipped inside the building
to see what was going on. His temerity, however, cost him dear,
for he was so petrified with astonishment, that his heart became
as stone within him, and he remained rooted to the spot. The other
imp, full of grief at the loss of his brother, flew madly round
the Minster, seeking in vain for the lost one. At length, being
wearied out, he alighted, quite unwittingly, upon the shoulders
of a certain witch, and was also, and in like manner, instantly
turned to stone. But the wind still haun