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 haunts the Minster precincts, waiting their return, now hopelessly desolate, now raging with fury.”  A verse, also, is interesting in this connection: 

  “The Bishop we know died long ago,
   The wind still waits, nor will he go,
   Till he has a chance of beating his foe. 
   But the devil hopped without a limp,
   And at once took shape as the Lincoln Imp. 
   And there he sits atop of a column,
   And grins at the people who gaze so solemn,
   Moreover, he mocks at the wind below,
   And says:  ‘You may wait till doomsday, O!’”

The effigies in the Round Church at the Temple in London have created much discussion.  They represent Crusaders, two dating from the twelfth century, and seven from the thirteenth.  Most of them have their feet crossed, and the British antiquarian mind has exploited and tormented itself for some centuries in order to prove, or to disprove, that this signifies that the warriors were crusaders who had actually fought.  There seems now to be rather a concensus of opinion that they do not represent Knights Templars, but “associates of the Temple.”  As none of them can be certainly identified, this controversy would appear to be of little consequence to the world at large.  The effigies are extremely interesting from an artistic point of view, and, in repairing them, in 1840, Mr. Richardson discovered traces of coloured enamels and gilding, which must have rendered them most attractive.

Henry III. of England was a genuine art patron, and even evinced some of the spirit of socialism so dear to the heart of William Morris, for the old records relate that the Master Mason, John of Gloucester, was in the habit of taking wine each day with the King!  This shows that Henry recognized the levelling as Well as the raising power of the arts.  In 1255 the king sent five casks of wine to the mason, in payment for five with which John of Gloucester had accommodated his Majesty at Oxford!  This is an intimate and agreeable departure from the despotic and grim reputation of early Kings of England.