to say nothing of trying to fit them into other types, as frequently happens. The simple fact that all these papyri, with their various distinctive characteristics, did exist side by side, in the same ecclesiastical province, that is, Egypt, where they were found, is the best argument against the existence of any text-types, including the Alexandrian and the Antiochian. We still live in the world of Westcott and Hort with our conception of different recensions and text-types, although this conception has lost its raison d'être, or, it needs at least to be newly and convincingly demonstrated.
 In 2006, Holger Strutwolf, current director of the INTF, “advanced the view that it is time to abandon the concept of text-types altogether.”
 The map and dendrogram presented here imply that textual clusters are real, although they differ from the three or four clearly defined text-types employed by earlier generations to describe the New Testament textual tradition. Rather than abandon the concept of text-types altogether, we should align our understanding with the reality, which is that New Testament textual clusters are hard to delineate but nevertheless exist. Epp provides a suitable analogy for their nebulous nature:
A text-type is not a closely concentrated entity with rigid boundaries, but is more like a galaxy — with a compact nucleus and additional but less closely related members which range out from the nucleus toward the perimeter. An obvious problem is how to determine when the outer limits of those more remote, accompanying members have been reached for one text-type and where the next begins.
 Being the result of an objective analytical procedure, a dendrogram generated by divisive clustering should be a better approximation of the textual reality than the conventional system of text-types. However, using a partitioned dendrogram presents the immediate challenge of what to name each cluster. One possibility is to apply a label to each, perhaps based on a supposed geographic association or leading members of the relevant cluster; another is to enumerate each member; yet another orders the members of each cluster in some way then gives the first and last separated by an ellipsis. Hopefully, whichever approach prevails will not lead to a profusion of different names for the same clusters. In what follows, I will identify each cluster with its first and last members as ordered in the dendrogram.
 The dendrogram has a self-similar character whereby each subtree has a similar appearance to the whole. A subtree can itself be partitioned by chopping at some height. Thus, the great cloud of witnesses which make up the fourth cluster of the six-way partition (i.e. K, L, P, and the rest) can be divided into seven by cutting at a height of 0.4:
K ... 1319
104 ... 263
365 ... slav
P ... 044
 Although some details of this partition would probably change if a larger sample was analysed, what is seen here serves as a starting point for discussion. The fourth, fifth, and sixth clusters are solitary, having only one or two members among the sampled witnesses. Nevertheless, they are kindred to the other witnesses in this great cloud. With one possible exception, all of the remaining clusters have been identified before: the K ... 1319 cluster is associated with the Byzantine standard text which became dominant after the fourth century; Waltz lists five members of the 104 ... 263 cluster under his “family 2127,” noting that some belong to von Soden's Ia3 group in Paul; as for the P ... 044 cluster, MDS maps produced during my doctoral research reveal that P, 044, and 0150 are neighbours. Concerning the possible exception, I don't know whether anyone has previously noticed a similarity between 365, 1912, and the Greek text presumed to stand behind the Old Church Slavonic version.
 It is natural to ask what each cluster represents and how the overall picture came to have its present form. If it was possible to produce a sequence of maps showing the distribution of witnesses in textual space at the end of each year for the first few centur