A potter raises a pot on a wheel while a boy and girl work on a pinchpot nearby.
It was when Theo had been three days in camp that the accident happened.
Outside the cook-house stood a ladder to be used in case of fire, and as one morning the boy passed it, it suddenly came to him what fun it would be to mount to the ridge-pole of the cabin and toss a handful of tiny pebbles down on the heads of the guides as they passed through the door beneath. What a surprise it would be to Tony and Franz to have the stones come clattering down upon them; and what sport it would be to watch them as they tried to solve the riddle as to where the missiles came from!
It was a foolish scheme, and probably had Theo thought it over a second time he would have abandoned it; but he was an impulsive boy who often acted before he carefully considered what he was doing. Therefore without a moment's hesitation he cautiously dragged the ladder to the end of the cabin and, making sure that no one was looking, began climbing it. He was on the top rung and was just stepping softly to the roof when there was a snapping of rotten wood and the bar beneath his foot gave way, sending him crashing headlong to the ground.
Fortunately for Theo the cabin was a low one, and he had not far to fall; but in trying to save himself he twisted one leg beneath him, and the result was most disastrous. He felt a sudden sharp pain as he struck the earth, and when a second later he attempted to rise he discovered to his chagrin that it was impossible for him to do so. Every movement he made hurt him excruciatingly, and presently feeling both faint and dizzy he abandoned further effort.
For an interval he lay very still, ashamed to callfor help; then pocketing his pride he began to yell lustily. His cries brought Franz and Manuel from the kitchen, Mr. Croyden from his cabin, and Dr. Swift from his room. Luckily it was just noontime and every one was indoors awaiting lunch.
Of what followed Theo had only a vague idea. He remembered that his father and Mr. Croyden raised him in their arms, and that in spite of their gentleness he had cried with pain at their touch. Then he had been put on his bed where his father proceeded to examine the injured leg. Every motion the Doctor made caused the boy intense agony. Afterward he had been allowed to rest, and then his father bent over him very gravely and with trembling lips said:
"Son, I've got to hurt you; I've got to hurt you a great deal. Your leg is broken, and we are miles from a hospital. I have no ether to give you, and the bone must be set. I want you to be as brave as you can and bear the pain that I must cause you. I need not tell you that I will work as gently as possible. Now pull yourself togetherand show me the sort of son I have. The more steady your nerve is the more it will help me, and the sooner I can finish what I must do."
"All right, Father."
"That's the stuff!" ejaculated Mr. Croyden, who was standing at the bedside. "You are a genuine Spartan, Theo."
The lad smiled feebly.
"I'll try to be."
"Of course you will! You are your father's own boy."
Dr. Swift stooped and touched the drawn forehead with his cool hand.
"I am going to leave you with Mr. Croyden for a few moments while I get some of the things I need," he said in a low tone. "Keep perfectly still and rest a little if you can. There is no need for you to worry. We will have you all fixed up within an hour. It is a clean break—a merciful thing, for we couldn't take an X-ray of it if we wanted to."
With these words he left the room.
It was some little time before he returned, and in the meanwhile Mr. Croyden sat beside Theo's bed and talked cheerily.
"Nothing like traveling with your own doctor," he remarked jocosely. "Now if my leg was broken I should have to hire some one in to see it, and it would cost me a pretty penny. But here you are miles from a settlement with your own private physician in attendance. Were you a young prince you could not be more royally cared for. Think of having one of the best New York surgeons at your beck and call here in this wilderness. You are a lucky beggar!"
Theo laughed faintly.
"As for splints—here is a forest of the finest, straightest, and strongest timber. What more can you ask? You couldn't do things on a grander scale if you were in New York City."
Again Theo smiled.
"Your father will have you comfortable as a cricket before long," went on Mr. Croyden, "and you will be all ready to start back——"
"Start back!" interrupted Theo in distress."Oh, surely, Mr. Croyden, Father is not going to take me home!"
The older man hesitated.
"Oh, of course I have no way of knowing what your father means to do," he protested hastily. "I only imagined that you would be more comfortable at home, and would rather go. There really would not be much point in staying out the month here, would there? You see, you won't be able to get about, and your father would not like to go off every day and leave you here alone in camp."
"But Father has spent all this money to come into the woods, and he has looked forward to the trip so much!" groaned Theo. "Besides, he is very tired and needs the rest; he told me so. If he takes me back home he will miss it all! He doesn't want the vacation just for his own fun, but so he can serve our country better if he is needed. I don't see why we couldn't stay on here just as we planned, even if I have a broken leg," was Theo's concluding plea.
"Think how stupid it would be for you to be left in the house alone.
"I shouldn't care. I could find some way to amuse myself."
"But your father——"
"He could go fishing just as he always does!" exclaimed Theo promptly. "You surely don't suppose I'd be so selfish as to make him stay in the house just because I had to, do you? You see"—Theo colored and then went on bravely—"this accident was my own fault. Father told me the other day to let that ladder alone—and I didn't. It serves me right to break my leg. If I had been in Dad's place I'd have said:I told you so. But he didn't even whisper it. He was just patient and kind as he always is. Can't you understand now, Mr. Croyden, that I am the one to be punished—not Dad? If we go back home it will be punishing him too, and that wouldn't be fair, would it?"
"No, not fair at all," admitted Mr. Croyden slowly.
"That is what I think," nodded Theo. "You see, I am the one to suffer."
"If you disobeyed, I guess you are."
"I did disobey.
"Humph! It was a pity."
"I'm sorry; but it is done now," said Theo soberly. "You know how you feel when you've done wrong. It's bad enough anyhow; and it makes you feel a hundred times worse if somebody else gets the blame for what you've done—somebody who doesn't deserve it."
"Yes."
"So, you see, that is why I want you to urge Father to stay on here," begged Theo. "Tell him the Maine air will do me good; tell him I'll get a fine rest keeping still; tell him—oh, tell him
anything; only don't let him pack up and go home, and have his whole vacation spoiled. If you'll just get him to stay, Mr. Croyden, I will promise not to bother, and he can go off every day and fish just as if I weren't here."
"You are a trump, Theo."
"It—it is only that I think it's square, sir," faltered Theo.
There was not time for further discussion, for at this juncture the door opened and Dr. Swift, followed by Manuel, entered.
Theo knew the moment for his boasted heroism had come.
He shut his lips tightly, and although the interval of anguish which followed forced the tears from his eyes he made no outcry. But never in his life had he experienced such pain. He did not know there was such pain in all the world.
When it was over and, faint from suffering, he lay languidly back among the pillows, Dr. Swift's stern face relaxed, and it was then Theo realized for the first time that his father, too, had been bracing himself to meet the ordeal and had also been suffering.
"My poor boy!" was all the Doctor said. "You have borne it like a man! I am proud of you, Theo."
The words were few, but the praise was at that moment very precious.
His father sat with him the remainder of the day, as well as a good part of the night, and during the wakeful hours when the boy tossed to and fro he would have ventured to speak about staying in camp had not Dr. Swift bidden him to bequiet every time he attempted to talk. The next morning, however, after the invalid had been bathed and had his breakfast the Doctor said of his own accord:
"So you think you would be happier to remain here in the woods, Theo, instead of going home."
The lad glanced up in surprise.
"Did Mr. Croyden tell you that?"
Dr. Swift nodded.
"He said you'd like to stay," he returned quickly.
"I should, very much."
"Suppose we call it settled then, and say no more about it. I am sure I have no wish to jolt you over those miles of rough corduroy road if it can be avoided. You seem better this morning. Your fever has gone down, and I see no reason why you should not get on all right from now on."
Theo smiled; then he whispered timidly:
"I just want to tell you I'm sorry I disobeyed you, Father."
His father put out his hand gently and covered the boy's two with his own.
"You have the worst of it, son. Experience is a great teacher, they say. Let it help you not to do such a foolish thing again."
Theo met his father's eyes gratefully. He still felt weak and shaken and he was thankful not to have his fault rubbed in.
During the long hours of the long days that followed the lad had many an opportunity to put his unselfish resolutions into practise. He insisted that his father and Mr. Croyden go off on the long tramps they had each season been accustomed to take together, and during their absence he remained with Franz, who was very kind to him. The Indian had a great many devices for entertaining him. Now he fashioned for the boy's amusement a miniature birch-bark canoe; now he showed him how to weave baskets from lithe twigs of alder. Sometimes he whittled wonderful whistles and toys from bits of wood; sometimes made tiny bows and arrows or snowshoes. His resources seemed never ending.
Then when night came and Dr. Swift and Mr. Croyden returned from fishing Theo was alwayscarried into the living-room of the cabin, and while he lay on the couch before the fire he would listen to the tale of the day's adventures. This bedtime hour was the best in the whole day.
At last there came a morning when Theo awoke to hear a storm beating noisily down upon the roof. The wind was blowing hard and sheets of rain drenched the windows.
"There'll be no fishing to-day," announced Dr. Swift after breakfast. "Instead Manuel is going out over the carry for provisions, and before he goes I must write some letters for him to take. In the meantime Mr. Croyden wants to know if you would like to have him come in and talk with you for a while?"
"Like it!" was the delighted exclamation.
"I believe I hear him now. Yes, here he is. Come in, Croyden!" called the Doctor heartily. "Our patient says he will be glad to see you."
"Glad? I should say I should!"
Mr. Croyden chuckled.
"I don't know that any audience ever gave me such a royal welcome before," he declared withamusement. "How do you find yourself this morning, sonny? Able to talk Greek pottery?"
"Able to hear you talk it," Theo answered instantly.
"I am thinking of shifting my subject to-day and telling you about Chinese and Japanese pottery instead."
"That will be fine."
"Very well, we'll begin our lecture right away, since the audience seems to be assembled," observed Mr. Croyden merrily. "Not only have you a private physician but a private lecturer, you see. My, but you are a royal personage! One thing will be very satisfactory about this audience. No matter whether it likes my talk or not it can't run away."
There was a peal of laughter from Theo.
In the meantime Mr. Croyden poked the fire into a blaze and sitting down in a comfortable chair began his story.
A potter raises a pot on a wheel while a boy and girl work on a pinchpot nearby.
Hundreds and hundreds of years ago," said Mr. Croyden, "while the Egyptians, Assyrians, Greeks, and Romans were experimenting at pottery-making, the Chinese, inside their great walled country, were busy with the same task. In fact as far back as two thousand years before Christ the Chinese were famous potters, making earthenware of such fine quality that it was difficult to tell whether it was pottery or porcelain. For the two are quite different, you must remember, Theo. It is not enough to say that pottery is thick and porcelain thin, for much of the Chinese and Japanese pottery is very thinindeed. The difference lies in the clay itself, of which the ware is made. Do not forget that. Pottery is an opaque ware composed of various combinations of clay which afterward may or may not have a coating of glaze put over it. But genuine porcelain is made from a mixture of quite different materials—a mixture of decomposed feldspar known as kaolin, and petuntse."
Mr. Croyden paused a moment.
"There are of course so-called porcelains made from other ingredients; but we call them soft paste chinas, and do not rate them as true porcelains. Only a hard paste, or kaolin ware, is acknowledged by experts to be genuine porcelain. Now all this sounds very simple. By putting the kaolin and the petuntse together in the right proportions, moulding the clay, and afterward applying to it a glaze of some sort the Chinese made their porcelain, and very beautiful porcelain it was. Some day I will tell you more about it. This porcelain was not only very hard but was semi-translucent; by that I mean that if it was held to the light one could see the glow throughit. It was not, of course, transparent like glass. These two qualities of hardness and translucence help us to distinguish porcelain from pottery."
Again Mr. Croyden stopped.
"For example, Canton ware, commonly known as Canton china, is not really china at all, but is instead a fine quality of stone, or earthenware, coated over with a slip or glaze containing porcelain. Nor is the exquisite Satsuma ware china; that too is a pottery."
Theo listened intently.
"Now all this time the Chinese kept the secret of how they made their wares to themselves, not sharing their knowledge with any outside peoples. Many a nation would have given almost anything to know from what materials the beautiful bowls, vases, and dishes were made. It would have saved years and years of the toil of patient men. But the Chinese had no mind to tell any one. Instead, they went on making more and more pottery and porcelain, improving their work with each successive generation. It is amusing to recall that while our ancestors in England werebarbarians, and were eating out of the crudest clay vessels or from trenchers of wood, the Chinese were enjoying the luxury of the finest pottery and porcelain."
Theo's eyes opened very wide.
"Undoubtedly the Chinese deserved the good results they obtained, for they selected their clays with extreme care; ground and mixed them most skilfully; modeled each piece with the keenest feeling for its beauty and perfection; and decorated it in a truly artistic spirit.
"In the meantime they constantly became more and more expert. They began to learn the use of colors, and to perfect them. Some of the blues or cobalts they employed have never been surpassed. One for instance is the blue used on their Nankin china, and known as Nankin blue."
"Did the Japanese make pottery too?" questioned Theo.
"Yes, but we do not know exactly how early they began to make it. Probably some of the Japanese crossed to China and there learned the art. Some think pottery-making came into Japanthrough Korea. However that may be, long before other countries had to any extent perfected the manufacture of glazed pottery and porcelain China, Japan, Persia, and India had turned their attention to it. As far back as 1000B. C.the Japanese were making porcelains similar to those of China. Then followed a long stretch of years when, because of various wars between China and Japan, the art of producing glazed pottery and porcelain was lost. All those workmen who possessed any knowledge of their manufacture perished. This was the period when the Greeks and Romans were making their red and black ware which, you recall, they did not know how to glaze, and therefore had no means of preventing liquids from leaking through it."
"I wish they had had the secrets of the Chinese and Japanese!" Theo said.
"I wish so too," echoed Mr. Croyden. "As it was, they struggled along with their beautiful pottery vases through which the water percolated just as it does through a flower-pot. And so it was for a time in China and Japan. It was not untilcenturies afterward that the Chinese and Japanese again rediscovered the art they had lost, and by that time the Greeks and Romans were no more, newer races having taken their places. Some of the wonderful old enamel work of the Chinese, however, was never reclaimed, and rare pieces of porcelain of a kind no one has yet been able to reproduce remain to tell us of the skill of those ancient Chinese workmen."
"If the Chinese kept everything so secret how did the art of glazed pottery-making ever get into Europe?" asked Theo.
Mr. Croyden smiled.
"It was a marvel that it ever did," he answered slowly. "Of course as people traveled little in those days one country did not know much about what another was doing. But there were wars when much booty was carried from one land to another; the pilgrimages of the Crusaders, too, helped to spread a knowledge of widely separated sections. Gradually bits of Chinese pottery and porcelain found their way into different parts of the East; and as a consequence men began to behighly dissatisfied with their red and black ware, and with the crude clay dishes they had previously thought so fine. They wanted to make white ware like that of the Chinese. But because they did not know what clays to use, or how to glaze their products, all their experiments failed. There did nevertheless appear throughout the Orient a ware of common clay over which a simple covering of white had been painted, and this slip or engobe of white gave to the variety the name of Oriental Engobe. This type of ware decorated with a conventional dull-hued design was many years later revived and imitated by Theodore Deck of Paris, one of the great French porcelain makers. But even this was not like the white Chinese ware everybody wanted so much to make."
"Did they never find out the secret?"
"Of that I will tell you some other time. It is a most interesting story," returned Mr. Croyden. "In the meantime the Moors and Arabs who had lived in the Orient had in some way learned that tin or lead could be used for enameling clay surfaces.The discovery apparently did not particularly interest them because, you see, in the East minerals were not plentiful. When, however, in the twelfth century they conquered Spain they found in that country quantities of lead and tin, and they then recalled that these could be used as a glaze for pottery. In consequence they promptly set to work making an enameled ware called Majolica or Maiolica from the Island of Maiorca. These Moors were a highly cultured race who built in Spain beautiful temples and palaces, among them the Alhambra, of which perhaps you have read."
Theo's eyes shone.
"We read about it at school!" he cried.
"I am glad to hear that," exclaimed Mr. Croyden. "Then you will remember what a wonderful structure it was. In its interior have been found many highly glazed tiles beautifully designed and decorated in colors and in gold. Within this palace, too, was found the famous Alhambra Vase, three feet four inches in height, and made in 1320. It is a piece of work quitedifferent from anything the Greeks made, but in its way is quite as perfect. It is of earthenware, with a white ground, and is enameled in two shades of blue with a further decoration of gold or copper lustre. I speak particularly of this use of glaze because it is very important. Until people knew how to glaze their wares many of the comforts and conveniences of living were impossible. Men carried water or wine in leather gourds, or in clay vessels coated on the inside with a layer of gum to prevent the contents from leaking or evaporating."
"I should think the gum would have made the liquid taste," said Theo.
"It did. That was precisely the trouble. Beside that think of the waste. Suppose you lost half the water you needed for your journey by having it evaporate. Think in addition what it meant if a large part of your food dried up in the cooking."
Theo looked grave.
"I should not like that at all."
"Nor did your ancestors," laughed Mr. Croyden."Well, it was to these Mohammedan Arabs, or Saracens, as they are termed, that Europe fundamentally owed its knowledge of the use of glaze, and its consequent beginning in the art of pottery-making. The Saracens did not, however, remain in Spain. There was an uprising of the Christians and they were either driven out or slaughtered, almost every relic of their civilization being destroyed. A stray temple or palace alone remains as a monument to them and this was more the result of chance, probably, than of intention. For two centuries following came an interval known as the Dark Ages, when none of the arts flourished. But before the Moors had fled from Spain the Italians who lived near at hand and whose territory the invaders often plundered had tired of their pillaging and in return had made an expedition into the Saracens' country bringing back with them to Italy some of the Majolica ware of the Arabs. When the nations began to awaken out of their two hundred years of warfare and strife, and Genoa, Venice, and Leghorn became great commercial centres, then the Renaissancecame and the Italians, who were ever an ingenious people, began among other things to attempt to copy the glaze on this Majolica ware. As a result in the fifteenth century Luca della Robbia, who was both a sculptor and a potter, contrived to perfect his wonderful glazed terra cotta."
"Not the Delia Robbia who did the Singing Boys we have on the wall at school!"
"The very same. He made great blue and white enameled tiles for wall decoration too; figures of babies and children, as well as whole altars fashioned entirely from this beautiful enamel. Whether he used a plumbiferous, or lead glaze; or a stanniferous, or tin glaze, we do not know. Probably it was of tin. But the important fact is that he got a fine durable surface, very shiny and very hard, which wrought a revolution in pottery-making. If you visit Florence some time you can still see set in the walls of some of the public buildings the identical enameled terra cottas made by Luca della Robbia."
"I'd like to see them."
"Then tell your dad to take you to Italy afterthis war is over. We will pray that Germany may spare these art works of the world."
Mr. Croyden did not speak for a moment; then he said:
"And while you are remembering so many things remember in addition that the wordglazecomes from the termglassingorglazing, which means putting a coating of glass over the surface. Of course the covering is not really glass, but it is hard and shiny, and so people used to think it was. Some day I will tell you more about the different kinds of glazes."
"So it was the Italians who gave Europe its glazed pottery and porcelain," remarked Theo.
"Not alone the Italians," protested Mr. Croyden, "although they helped. Somebody else had a share in the discovery—somebody very far away from Italy. It was the knowledge of the Italians combined with the skill of this other distant nation that gave to Europe the perfect product."
"What nation was that?" demanded Theo.
"The Dutch.
"The Dutch!"
"Yes. You see at this time the Dutch were great traders, and it was while the nation was at the height of its commercial glory that the Dutch began bringing from China shipments of Chinese porcelain. Portuguese traders had also brought some of it into Europe, so in these two ways the beautiful blue and white ware we know so well was introduced to the Continent.
"The Portuguese were content to import it; they never attempted to copy either the pottery or the porcelain. But the Dutch were more ambitious. As early as 1300 they began experimenting with glazed pottery. To the knowledge of glaze which they got from Italy they added all they could find out about the making of Chinese wares. They learned that the blue color the Chinese got came from oxide of cobalt, which would melt and mingle with the glaze when exposed to a high temperature; they also learned a little—a very little, of the clay. As a result they began to turn out a blue and white pottery known as Delft, which they soon made in great quantities and soldto European nations at a much lower price than imported Chinese potteries and porcelains could be bought."
Mr. Croyden bent forward and tossed a small log upon the fire.
"This fact revolutionized daily living throughout Europe. Up to this time you must remember the common people everywhere were using square pieces of tile or wood for plates, and were eating from wooden bowls or hollowed out slabs of wood called trenchers. The more well-to-do used pewter, and kings and queens dined from dishes of silver. There was, it is true, some earthenware made in Saxony and France, but as it was of a finer and more expensive quality than Delft ordinary persons could not afford to buy it.
"At the time the Dutch began importing their Delft ware into England Henry IV was on the throne; so you see how long ago all this happened."
Mr. Croyden smiled mischievously.
"I suppose you have that date at your tongue's end," he added.
"I think it was about 1400," ventured Theo thoughtfully.
"Bravo! I had no idea you would remember it. Henry IV reigned from 1399 to 1413, so you see you are nearly right. As Delft ware began to be manufactured in 1310 the art was pretty well developed by this time, and much beautiful pottery was being made. Some of the best Dutch painters were trying their hand at its decoration, and in the Museums of the Hague there are old Delft pieces painted by many of these famous artists. Most of the scenes upon them were copied from the landscapes the Dutch saw every day—windmills, ships, Dutch women in their quaint costumes, fishermen, and children in wooden shoes,—the ordinary sights, such as were common in Holland, but novel and interesting to those who lived in other places. There were, too, many imitations of Chinese ware adorned with copies of Chinese designs. Bear in mind, Theo, that all of this was pottery, not porcelain; for the secret of porcelain-making had not yet been fathomed," said Mr. Croyden impressively.
"It was glazed pottery," responded Theo.
"Exactly," nodded Mr. Croyden. "As time went on the Dutch increased and perfected their output until they became ambitious to make larger pieces. Potters began turning out small foot-stoves, vases, candlesticks, and dinner sets. One of the most amusing relics of this old Delft is now in one of the foreign museums. It is a violin perfectly modeled and exquisitely decorated. The story goes that it was one of four such instruments which were made as wedding gifts for the four daughters of a rich Dutch pottery manufacturer. It is even asserted that the instruments before being presented to the four brides were used by the musicians at the wedding festivities. I'm afraid they did not make very good music."
Theo smiled.
"Besides these fantastic things the Dutch also made tea sets, and when I say that you must realize that this was a very important fact; for up to about 1660 tea was a great novelty in England. It had but recently been introduced there by Oriental traders, and was very expensive, sellingfor about eight dollars a pound—at that time a great deal of money, and even quite a price when rated by our own standards. People were very ignorant still as to its use. You have probably heard the story of the servant who, knowing nothing about preparing the new delicacy, boiled the tea leaves, sprinkled them with salt and pepper and, throwing away the liquid, served the dainty to his master in a covered dish."
There was a hearty laugh from Theo.
"As late as 1661 an Englishman named Samuel Pepys, whose diary is an interesting record of the time, writes: 'I had to-day some tea—a China drink of which I had never drank before.' Isn't it a pity that while he was writing the little man did not also put down how he liked this new beverage?"
Mr. Croyden drew out his watch and rose.
"So you can see, Theo," he added as he stood with his back to the fire, "what it meant to have tea sets introduced into England. Of course the cups had no handles as do our teacups of to-day. The Chinese cups were in reality small bowls without either saucer or handle. Therefore theDelft teacups copied from them were made in the same way. The Chinese did not drink their tea very hot, you see, and therefore could take hold of the cup without burning their fingers; moreover, they used in their houses tables of teak-wood to which hot cups did no injury. Since, however, teak-wood was unknown in England and oak was in general use the English found that the hot cups marred their tables and later they invented saucers to go under them. Nevertheless it was a long time before it dawned on potters that they could make handles for their cups. One of the ear-marks of tea sets of early manufacture is these handleless cups. With this advent of dishes, of Delft plaques to be hung on the wall in place of pictures, and of Delft tiles, many of the common people for the first time awakened to the discovery that the interiors of their houses might be made attractive, and something more than mere shelters from cold and storm. They began buying vases and crude pottery ornaments, images of flower-girls, fishermen, and of the saints. In Holland people even hung Delft plaques on the walls oftheir stables. It was a new thought to have anything about which was not for actual use."
"I should think that with all this Chinese and Delft ware to copy from the English would have tried making earthenware of their own," speculated Theo.
"They did," was Mr. Croyden's prompt reply, "and of that I will tell you some other day. But there is one interesting fact in connection with these early tea sets. Remember that if ever you see in a museum or private house a tea set which you are told came over in theMayflowernothing of the sort could have happened. The Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock in 1620, and it was not until from 1660 to 1770 that tea and tea sets became general in England. By that time the Pilgrim Fathers, and more especially the Pilgrim Mothers, were far across the ocean."
Mr. Croyden moved toward the door.
"Some one may have brought tea sets to them but they never carried them in theMayflower," he concluded. "Now I have talked too much for one morning, and it is lunch time. Listen, thereis the horn! And see, Theo, the rain has ceased and the sun come out."
"I hadn't thought of the weather," smiled Theo. "I had not thought of anything, I guess, but what you were telling me. You will come again, sir?"
"Surely!"
"And you won't forget your promise to tell me about English pottery?"
"No indeed, son," was the cordial reply. "You are too good a listener for me to forget."
A potter raises a pot on a wheel while a boy and girl work on a pinchpot nearby.
It was not for some time that Mr. Croyden again had leisure for a long talk with Theo, because with the return of pleasant weather he and Dr. Swift went for a three days' canoe trip up Elk River, a small stream emptying into the lake on which the camp stood. Dr. Swift had thought of giving up this excursion, because it necessitated leaving Theo for such a long time; but the boy was insistent that his father should go.
"I won't be lonesome, Father," he protested. "Franz is here, and he is as good as a vaudeville show; besides I can read, and whittle, and writeto Mother. The days will pass so quickly I shall not have time to miss you. It would be too bad to have you stay in camp just for me. I have made trouble enough already."
Perhaps it was because of Theo's genuine regret for what he had done that Dr. Swift consented to carry out his original plan. The boy was intensely sensitive, and any allusion to his accident, or any interference with his father's pleasure because of it, immediately brought a shadow of distress to his face. The Doctor was quick to notice this fact; and eager, if possible, to avoid every reminder of the disaster. Accordingly on hearing Theo's plea he packed his tackle, and with a gentle word of caution to the invalid to be careful during his absence, set forth with Mr. Croyden to fish Elk River.
It was no easy thing for Theo to play an unselfish part and see them start off. How he wished that he, too, were going! But for his own folly he might have gone. Well, he had no one to blame but himself, that was certain. Therefore he put as brave a front on the matter as he could,resolving to make the best of it and be cheerful.
It was not, however, much fun to be lying there in bed during those fine spring days. From his window he could see the blue waters of the lake between the aisles of straight pines. It was a glorious world if one could only be abroad in it. Even the glimpse he had of it from his bed was beautiful. But to lie still and look out upon this alluring scene was not a satisfying rôle for an active boy. In spite of the wood-carving, the books, the writing; even despite the time Franz could spare to entertain him the hours dragged pitifully. Furthermore, now that the severed bone had begun to knit he felt restless and uncomfortable.
Hence when on the afternoon of the third day he awoke from an uneasy doze to find his father standing beside him it was a joyful surprise.
"Father!" he cried.
"Right here," came gruffly from the Doctor. "Glad to have your old dad home again?"
"Glad? Well, I guess!
"I am glad to see you again too, son. I've thought of you a hundred times. How did you get on?"
"All right, sir. Franz took fine care of me, and I found lots of things to do," answered Theo bravely. "But it is much nicer when you are here than when you're not."
His father smiled.
"You are a plucky youngster," he said huskily. "No matter how silly and childish your accident was you certainly have shown yourself a man since. Look! Here comes Mr. Croyden to see you. He has brought you a fine four-pounder, the record trout of the catch."
Theo beamed.
During the time the fishermen had been gone he had sadly missed the delicacy of fresh fish.
"Eating this trout will be the next best thing to pulling it in, Theo," said Mr. Croyden. "I only wish you might have had that pleasure, too."
"I shall be pretty glad to eat the trout, sir," Theo declared promptly.
"We shall let Franz get to work cooking itthen, right away, so to have it ready for your dinner," Dr. Swift said, passing out with the fish in his hand.
After the Doctor had gone Theo looked up into Mr. Croyden's face.
"I suppose you are dreadfully tired after your tramp," he remarked.
"I? Oh, no," was the instant answer. "Why?"
"I—I—don't know," faltered Theo. "I just wondered."
"Wondered what?"
"Whether after dinner you would be too tired to come in and talk to me a little while?"
"No, indeed. I'd be glad to come," responded Mr. Croyden. "I'll come and tell you all about our trip."
"If you don't mind I'd rather you'd leave that to Dad, and instead tell me some more about china-making," Theo said naively.
Mr. Croyden seemed vastly amused at the remark.
"Bless my soul! What a boy you are," he said."Of course I am perfectly willing to talk to you on anything you like. Would you rather hear about china than anything else?"
"Yes, sir, just now I should," came vigorously from Theo.
"All righty, china it shall be, then! But I am surprised that you should be so much interested in it. How came you to be so eager to learn about pottery and porcelain?"
"I guess because you make it all so much like a story book," answered Theo frankly. "How did you happen to know so much about it, Mr. Croyden?"
"Why, it chances to be my business, son," Mr. Croyden replied. "In Trenton, New Jersey, where I live, we make quantities of earthenware and porcelain; more of it than anywhere else in the United States. That is the way I earn my money to come on fishing trips."
"Oh, I see! Then of course it is no wonder that you know all about it!" cried Theo.
"I know some things, but not all," was Mr. Croyden's answer. "However, since you like tohear about it I am ready and glad to tell you what I can. We will have a session on French pottery to-night, if you say so; there are some things I want you to know before we take up the making of the English wares."
"Whatever you say!" exclaimed Theo.
"Very well. I'll be back after dinner, and unless your father wants you for something else we'll have a nice evening together before your bedtime."
Mr. Croyden was as good as his word.
Theo had just finished his share of the big trout when into his room came the china merchant.
"Your father and Manuel are busy icing some fish to ship home, so here I am," he affirmed.
After dragging a steamer chair up to Theo's bedside and stretching himself comfortably in it the elder man began:
"Most of the pottery of the seventeenth century was an outgrowth of the Italian Renaissance when all the arts such as painting, wood-carving, sculpture, literature, glass and pottery-making were revived.In France the attempt to imitate Italian Faenza ware gave rise to the wordfaience, a term applied to French porcelains made both from hard and soft paste. French potters at Nevers, spurred on by Dutch and Chinese products, began to turn out a type of pottery not unlike Delft, except that the method of coloring it was reversed, and instead of having blue figures on a white ground it had white figures on a background of blue. This innovation, however, was not an entirely new variety of pottery. It still remained for France to invent its own peculiar kind of ware, and this it soon did. Nevertheless you must not make the mistake of thinking that these first attempts were very far reaching, for on the contrary they were very limited. They are significant only because they are the beginnings of that wonderful art of porcelain-making which later the French carried to an amazing degree of perfection."
There was a moment's delay in the story while Mr. Croyden rearranged more comfortably the pillows behind Theo's head.
"Is that better?" he asked of the boy.
"Lots better, thank you," said Theo gratefully.
"All right, son. Then we'll go on. Two of the most important of these beginnings are the Henri Deux ware, as it is called; and the enamel work of Bernard Palissy."
"We read about Palissy in school," put in Theo.
"I am glad to hear that, for he was one of the three men whose names have come down to us as being most vitally connected with pottery and porcelain-making. But before we talk of him I am going to tell you just a little about the Henri Deux ware, sometimes known as Faience d'Orion. Very few pieces of it now remain; but for perfection of workmanship and beauty of quality it has never been approached. Just who made it we do not know; nor do we know anything of the conditions under which it was manufactured. Only about fifty pieces of it are in existence—half of them in England and half in France; and it is from these, and from vague historic hints, that we have welded together the rather uncertain tale that I am now to tell you."
A smile of anticipation passed over Theo's face.
"Long ago there lived in France a wealthy woman named Helene d'Hengest, who was deeply interested in all the arts, and who owned a beautiful home known as Château d'Orion. Here she had a library, a rather rare possession in those days, and a librarian called Bernard. Now many persons think that it was this Bernard who was the maker of the now famous Henri Deux ware, or Faience d'Orion."
"Why should they think that?" questioned Theo.
"Well, there are several excellent reasons," Mr. Croyden replied. "One is that the ware shows traces of a book-binding tool. Book-binders, you know, use many small instruments to decorate or tool their leather. This faience was a ware of natural cream-colored clay, and upon it was tooled a flat design the hollows of which were filled in with darker clays that were afterward covered with a lead glaze. Infinite care and pains had evidently been expended upon each piece of the ware, such pains that it must have taken much time to complete even a single article. No manufacturercould have afforded to do this, and therefore the inference had been drawn that the pottery was made purely for pleasure by some one who had an abundance of leisure. Perhaps this very Bernard, the librarian, who may have become interested in the art as a recreation, and done the work in his idle hours."
"What a funny thing to do as a pastime!" exclaimed Theo.
"No stranger than that now many persons take up metal work, wood-carving, or other of the so-called arts and crafts for diversion."
"I suppose not," admitted Theo thoughtfully.
"It certainly is possible such a thing might have happened even so long ago as the time when the Henri Deux ware was made. History offers us no aid in solving the puzzle, so we can only find an answer as best we may. The ware, however, is unique, and there is no mistaking it. Some of it bears the monogram of King Henry II, and that accounts for the name by which the product passes. There are authorities that assert the H does not stand for the king's name, but forHelene, mistress of the Château d'Orion; others declare the king's monogram was used merely to fix the date when the pottery was made. Hence you will find some china collectors calling it Henri Deux ware, and others speaking of it as Faience d'Orion; while still others refer to it as Saint Porchaire. When examining it it is interesting to notice how much finer the later pieces are than the earlier ones. Evidently Bernard, if Bernard it was, improved a great deal with practice."
It was obvious that Mr. Croyden had no more to say about the elusive Bernard, for he came to an abrupt stop.
Theo waited a second, and then remarked suggestively:
"And Palissy?"
"Palissy? Oh, he was another matter altogether. What did you learn about him when you were at school?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," responded Theo with a shrug. "At least I do not remember much of it now. The teacher told us that one day Palissysaw an enameled cup of Saracen workmanship and that he was so anxious to discover how the glaze on it was made that he worked years experimenting; he even chopped up all his furniture as fuel for his furnaces."
"This is quite correct," smiled Mr. Croyden. "I see you recall a good deal. What you have told me are the main facts of the story. Palissy did work fifteen years. He used every splinter of wood he could lay hands on as fuel, and indeed burned up every particle of his household furniture, until he had not a chair to sit upon. He spent every cent he had, too, until he was so poor that he could scarcely feed his family, and owed money to all his neighbors."
"In the end did he find out how to make the enamel?" came breathlessly from Theo.
"No, not that particular kind of enamel the Moors made in Spain. That is the sad part of the story," replied Mr. Croyden. "He did, however, find out by his experimenting how to get marvelous colored enamels of another kind, and this was a very important discovery. He colored hisglazes before putting them over the clay, instead of using a white enamel and then painting it as had previously been done everywhere. So you see after all Palissy did a great deal for pottery-making, since up to this time no one had ever thought of coloring the glaze itself. He made many vases, platters, and covered dishes adorned with designs in this colored enamel, often putting on the cover of a dish a fruit or vegetable in relief, tinted in its natural colors. Much of this work now can be seen in the museums of France; but it never became a distinctive type of art. What we chiefly remember of Palissy is his introduction into china-making of these hitherto unknown colored enamels.