"Well, I should certainly think Wedgwood did his bit!" declared Theo.

"Ah, but this was not all he did," retorted Mr. Croyden quickly. "His most important work I have not yet mentioned."

"What was that?"

"He invented two things of widely different nature which have been of the greatest practical value to our civilization ever since. One was a hard biscuit porcelain such as is used in laboratories, and for chemist's and pharmacist's utensils. This meant far greater convenience in the mixing and preparation of drugs and medicines."

"And the other?"

"The other was the glazing of common earthenware or terra-cotta drain-pipes. This non-aesthetic product was perhaps Wedgwood's greatest contribution to his time, for it revolutionized sanitation, and was a mighty step toward better living conditions. Surely no one can say that Josiah Wedgwood did not let his art serve his generation both from an artistic and a practical standpoint."



CHAPTER VII

PORCELAIN AT LAST

Progress toward health now became quite rapid, for Theo, being a normal boy, the injured bone knit quickly, and before long Dr. Swift said:

"I have sent for some crutches for you, son, and as soon as they come I see no reason why you should not be up and about. Of course you cannot expect to go hiking off over these rough trails; but you can certainly get out of bed and move about the camp."

Theo's eyes sparkled.

"My, but won't it seem good!" he sighed.

"I am sure it will," answered the Doctor. "You have been very patient, Theo."

"Going to get the invalid up, Doctor?" questioned Mr. Croyden, who had just poked his head in at the door.

"Yes, just as soon as the crutches I have ordered from New York arrive."

Mr. Croyden looked rueful.

"That means I shall be losing my lecture audience," he mourned playfully. "You will no longer be a spoiled child, Theo, after those crutches come. We shan't serve all your meals in your room, nor give you the biggest fish in the catch. You will have to come down to common fare like the rest of us."

"You won't find me doing any fussing on that score," laughed Theo. "As for the lectures—why, I have a season ticket, and shall expect a lecture every day."

"Mercy on us!" gasped Mr. Croyden. "Do you realize, young man, that I came into these woods to rest? If I am to make pottery and porcelain with you every day I might just as well be at home."

Nevertheless it was plain that the elder man was pleased.

"Well, so long as you have secured a season ticket in advance I suppose there is no help for it," he added with a comic expression of resignation. "When, by the by, does the next lecture come?"

Theo pretended to produce an imaginary ticket from his pocket and consult it.

"The next lecture seems to be listed for this evening just after dinner," he replied gravely.

"It does, does it!" exclaimed Mr. Croyden. "Very well; the lecturer will be ready at seven sharp. I make it a point never to disappoint an audience."

With a good-natured laugh he was gone.

"I hope I don't bother Mr. Croyden too much, Father," observed Theo reflectively, after the older man was out of hearing.

"I guess you don't," answered the Doctor. "At first I was afraid you might be taking too much of his time, so I asked him; but I soon found he enjoyed these talks quite as much as you. He is a good talker, and like the rest of us finds it pleasant to discuss his hobby. I begged him to be frank and tell you whenever he was too tired or busy to talk, and he promised he would."

"He has been mighty good to me."

"He certainly has," agreed Dr. Swift. "He likes boys very much. It is a pity he has no son of his own."

"It is a shame!" exclaimed Theo. "He would make such a splendid father for some boy."

Dr. Swift nodded.

"Boys are of course a great nuisance, and they make us lots of trouble," he remarked dryly, "but they are good things to have in the house in spite of that."

As he rose to go he cast a whimsical glance at his son.

"I'll leave you this book to read," he said. "Mother sent it. And here are some letters. Here, too, is a picture puzzle which looks as if it might keep you busy for some time. I guess you won't be idle before I get back."

Theo met his eye with a bright smile.

"I guess I won't have a chance to be," he replied.

The book proved to be an aeroplane story of just the kind Theo liked; and the puzzle was so hard that he worked on it at intervals most of the day. Then came twilight and with it a game of cribbage with his father, after which he had a deliciously cooked dinner of fried perch, browned potatoes, and a marvelous three-story chocolate pie, a masterpiece of Franz's cookery.

"I think this has been about the best day yet," Theo remarked when promptly at seven Mr. Croyden drew his chair up into the firelight. "Father does plan such jolly things for me to do! And you, and Manuel, and Franz are so kind!"

"Those of us who have our legs ought to be, that's sure," was Mr. Croyden's grim response. "It is the least we can do. In my opinion you have been a real hero, Theo. If my leg had been broken I should never have been so patient. You would have seen me storming round like a caged tiger. In fact I doubt even if lectures delivered by such a brilliant speaker as myself would have kept me still."

Theo chuckled.

"What is the subject of the lecture you are to give this evening?" he inquired with mock seriousness.

"Wasn't it printed on your ticket?"

"No, sir."

"No?" exclaimed Mr. Croyden in surprise. "A great oversight! The man who printed these tickets is a stupid fellow. I believe I shall have to discharge him and try somebody else. The subject of this evening's lecture is, of course, Porcelain."

"Porcelain! Have we really come to porcelain at last!" cried Theo, much delighted.

"Yes, we have now finished with the potteries and earthenwares—at least for the present, and we shall begin on porcelain, the great art-work of the Chinese."

Mr. Croyden stopped to cram tobacco into his pipe.

"Already I have told you that the Chinese made beautiful porcelains from kaolin and petuntse, two clays which produced a hard, semi-transparent china," he began. "And I have also told you how for a long time they were the only nation to have a knowledge of the necessary ingredients for such a ware. I only wish I had here at this moment some specimens of the exquisite porcelains they have made that you might see them and get some idea of their richness and beauty. It is difficult to describe them in words."

"Maybe when we go home Father will take me to the Metropolitan Museum to see some Chinese porcelains," suggested Theo.

"I am sure he will," Mr. Croyden said. "And if he is too busy to do it, I will take you myself. Maybe some day we could go china-hunting together."

"That would be corking!"

"I'd enjoy it as much as you," affirmed Mr. Croyden. "We would prowl around among the different collections and look for the celebrated Nankin blue which, although not strictly speaking a porcelain, would give you a glimpse of some of the finest work ever done in a blue and white ware. Of the very early Chinese porcelains we should, alas, find no specimens, because most of these were destroyed during the wars that raged against the various ancient dynasties; but we should see some examples of what is called the Chrysanthemo-Paeonienne period."

"Jove, what a name!"

"Not such a terrible one when you think about it," returned Mr. Croyden. "Get to work with your brain and you can soon tell me what it means."

"Chrysanthe——" ruminated Theo, thinking aloud. "Has it anything to do with chrysanthemum?"

"It surely has. Go on," urged the elder man encouragingly.

"Paeonienne—I'll bet it is another flower! Peony?"

"There you have it!" came triumphantly from the china manufacturer. "It was not half as bad as it sounded, you see. Chrysanthemums and peonies—the two flowers almost exclusively used as decoration on the porcelain of that particular period. So universally was one or the other of these flowers employed, and so individual was their treatment, that the name serves to cover one of the oldest types of Chinese porcelain remaining to us. This porcelain was not so beautiful, however, as some of that which follows it; the clay or body of the ware being less fine. One can easily see that at that time the Chinese had not perfected their art. Nevertheless it is remarkable, and the flower designs on it most artistic."

"And what came next?" inquired Theo.

"Next we come to some other varieties of porcelains which connoisseurs have grouped together because of their color and called Famille-vert. Think out what that name means as you did the other. You have studied French at school, haven't you?"

"A little," replied Theo modestly. "Famille is family; and I think vert is green. But of course it could not mean Green Family."

"That is precisely what it does mean," Mr. Croyden returned heartily. "The name refers to the delicate color of the ware. 'Sky after a summer rain' was what the Chinese sometimes poetically called it. It is a porcelain of wonderful rarity and beauty. Some of it even ranges to as deep hue as apple-green. One does not find much of it now, for it is a very choice and expensive variety; nor was it widely made. The ware for which the Chinese were most celebrated was the Famille-rose."

"Rose Family!" exclaimed Theo, instantly.

"Yes. Broadly speaking the Red Family. I am glad to see you have your French so at your tongue's end. This porcelain of the Rose Family was the masterpiece of the Chinese. The word rose did not in this case refer to the flower but to the rich red tone of the porcelain. Some of it is as deep and almost as brilliant as a ruby; and neither its decoration nor its coloring can be surpassed. For the Chinese, you must not forget, were the most original and unhampered of artists. They were never content to copy flowers, faces, or figures as we do to-day. Instead they aimed to catch the spirit of the object from which they were working, and then with freedom and boldness to execute a design that should have something more than mere reproduction in it. It did not matter in the least to them if a flower in one of their pictures was sometimes larger than a man; or a boat many sizes bigger than the bridge beneath which it sailed. They were making a sort of fairyland decoration where anything they pleased was possible; it was not a world of fact. As a result they got an imaginative quality in their decoration which none of our more prosaic and literal western nations have ever equaled."

Mr. Croyden took a pull at his pipe.

"Much of their design was symbolic, and much of the coloring they used had a national significance. For example, the Dragon was a symbol of empire and power; the Dog, a sacred animal, was often used; but it was no ordinary dog. Instead it had great teeth, a curling mane, and claws like a lion. A Chinese artist would have scorned to copy a real dog, for that would not have been considered art; nor would a picture of any living type of dog be half as imposing as was this imaginary creature with its fierce teeth, mane, and claws. Sometimes the Kylin, a sort of stag with a dragon's head, and a symbol of good-fortune, was used. There were many other of these symbolic designs employed to enhance the beauty of Chinese porcelains, and of course to the Chinese each one had its meaning."

"It is an interesting idea, isn't it?" Theo said slowly.

"Very; and makes much of our own art seem pitifully thin. And when you consider that the colors the Chinese used also had their meaning, as did various geometric forms introduced, you can readily see how much one must study to understand Chinese—and for that matter, Japanese art; for the Japanese used much the same methods in decorating their potteries and porcelains, although of course their symbolism varied. With the Chinese green and vermilion were colors sacred to the wall decorations of Emperors' houses; red typified fire; black, water; green, wood; white, metal. Fire was also sometimes represented by a circle, and the earth by a square. All this I tell you that you may see how much thought went into everything they did. In addition certain objects were made for especial purposes, and decorated in accordance with their use. There were drinking cups for poets, authors, and government officials, each cup having an appropriate picture in the bottom. Then there were incense-burners, vases, bowls, and vessels for libations at ceremonials; there were, too, statues of the various gods. Besides these many types of workmanship the Chinese made a very thin egg-shell porcelain, the most fragile and transparent of which we now get from Japan; and a porcelain decorated with a fine, open-work design cut through the ware, and styled 'grains-of-rice pattern.' Moreover they manufactured a variety which in firing took on a crackled effect and has for that reason been christened Chinese Crackle. You see how many kinds of thing they worked out."

"I should say so!" exclaimed Theo.

"Most of the painting of Chinese porcelain was done directly on the glaze instead of underneath it, although some of the brush work was done on the clay itself before the glaze was put over it. In either case the ware required several firings, and before even such a simple article as a cup was completed it frequently passed through as many as seventy pairs of hands. Add to this the dangers risked in packing and importing, and the tumult of the many wars that racked China, and is it anything short of a marvel that so many perfect pieces of ancient make have come down to us?"

"I think it is wonderful that all of them were not broken," gasped Theo.

"It is not until 1171 that there is any mention of porcelain being seen outside of China. Then the Mohammedan Saladin sent as a present to another ruler forty pieces of Chinese porcelain. In 1487 the Sultan of Turkey gave to Lorenzo de Medici, a great art lover, a porcelain vase. After that porcelain began, as I have already told you, to find its way into Europe—first through the Portuguese traders, and later through the Dutch. What we know of Chinese porcelain applies largely to that of Japan, because for many years Japan was merely an imitator of China so far as porcelain-making was concerned. By and by, however, the Japanese Government encouraged the industry by giving money toward its manufacture, and as a result about the year 1200 the porcelains of the Japanese rivaled those of China. The Chrysanthemo-Paeonienne was worked out to a degree of perfection hitherto unknown; and the Famille-rose was also made, but not as perfectly as in China. The Famille-vert, on the contrary, was not attempted to any extent in Japan, probably because the Japanese lacked the necessary clays to make it."

Mr. Croyden paused as if reflecting, then added:

"As I explained to you, the Japanese had their symbolism of color and design as well as the Chinese; and not only did they make similar sorts of porcelain, but they subsequently invented styles of decoration of their own. They did much medallion-painting, a form of design unknown in China. They also gave to the world their wonderful Japanese lacquer, a varnish of gums that could be applied not only to wood but in some cases to porcelain. They also were the race to invent Cloisonne ware, a very difficult type of thing when made as they made it. To the surface of the porcelain they fastened a tiny metal outline of the design and afterward filled in the spaces between it with colored enamels. You can easily see what careful workmanship such a process required."

"We have a Cloisonne vase at home," said Theo soberly, "but I never knew it was made that way."

"If it is the genuine old Japanese Cloisonne it was," answered Mr. Croyden. "The Japanese also gave us the Mandarin china so highly prized by collectors. This is an interesting ware because on it we find the tiny Mandarins pictured in the decoration, wearing their little toques or caps topped with the button denoting their rank. You see when the Thsing victors conquered the Ming Dynasty of China they decreed that many of the old Chinese customs and modes of dress should give place to those of Japan. Among other things they ordered that officials wear the toque or mandarin-cap. The Chinese were, as you can well imagine, very angry; and although they wore the cap you see no little mandarins thus arrayed adorning their porcelain. But the Japanese not only immortalized these reminders of their supremacy on their chinaware, but they even took some of their mandarin-decorated porcelain to China and forced the Chinese to buy it. In most collections you will find some of this Mandarin china; but remember, although it may have come from China, it probably was not made there."

Theo smiled.

"The Japanese came in time to be great traders," continued Mr. Croyden, "and they are going to be still greater ones some day. They invented many other kinds of pottery and porcelain which they sold to the merchants of Holland. Satsuma is a pottery in which they excelled. It has a body of cream-colored earthenware not unlike Wedgwood's Queen's ware, and this is richly decorated in dull colors and gold. In order to please the Dutch traders the Japanese even painted angels, saints, and other Christian figures both on their pottery and porcelain, which proves they must have been pretty eager for European customers. At the present moment they are equally willing to cater to American and European demands, and to gratify our inartistic public by sending into our markets all sorts of cheap, gaudily decorated goods which they themselves would not tolerate. It is a deplorable fact, too, that we buy them. Now you surely have got your money's worth of lecture for to-night. If you are not tired, I am. Good-night, sonny!"

"Good-night," called Theo as Mr. Croyden passed out, "and thank you. I'm sorry you're tired. I am not. I could listen all over again."



CHAPTER VIII

THE THIRD FAMOUS POTTER

Theo's crutches did not arrive as soon as he expected, both because of the remoteness of the camp and a confusion in transportation.

Poor Theo! After getting his hopes up it was hard to be cheerful over this disappointment, and the courage that until now had buoyed him up suddenly began to fail.

"I just wish one of those miserable expressmen could have a broken leg and then he'd see how good it is to be laid up like this," fretted the boy indignantly.

"Oh, come, don't wish that!" Mr. Croyden protested laughing, "for if you decree that the expressmen be disabled you will never get your crutches."

"I suppose not," admitted Theo grudgingly. "But it is so irritating."

"I know that; still, it might be worse, Theo. You really are pretty comfortable, you know."

"Yes."

"You are not suffering."

"No," murmured the lad, hanging his head.

"You have plenty to eat."

"Yes."

"And the food is good."

Theo flushed, but said nothing.

"There is many a boy worse off than you are."

"Probably."

"I guess your father could show you a score of them were you to accompany him on one of his hospital rounds. Suppose, for example, you were in pain every moment, and were never to walk again. That would be a real calamity, and something to fuss about."

Theo raised his eyes.

"I know it, sir," he said instantly. "I'm afraid I have been pretty grumpy and cross."

"No. Until now you have been most patient—phenomenally patient for a lad who loves to be doing something every minute. It is precisely because you have done so well that I'd like you to hold out a little longer."

Theo's lip quivered; then suddenly his scowl melted into a mischievous smile.

"I believe, Mr. Croyden, that you are as good at preaching as you are at lecturing," he observed gaily.

Mr. Croyden nodded his head.

"You are one of the few persons, Theo, who appreciate me at my full value. I am really a very gifted person if only other people suspected it. In return for your recognition of my talents I have half a mind to favor you with another of my celebrated lectures this very instant."

"I wish you would," came eagerly from Theo. "But aren't you going off fishing this morning?"

"No. Your father and Manuel are going to fish some secret trout hole, and they did not invite me. You see, your father's guide and mine are the best of friends until it comes to trout holes; then they are sworn enemies. Manuel won't tell Tony where he finds his five and six pounders; and Tony won't tell Manuel. Yesterday Tony actually led me nearly half a mile out of my way so Manuel should not see where we were going. He wanted to throw him off the scent, and I guess he did it, too. This rivalry between fishing guides is very common and sometimes, I am sorry to say, it is less good-natured than here."

"It seems very silly," Theo remarked.

"It is the same old question of protecting the source of one's income. Governments as well as individuals have to confront the problem. You remember how the Chinese tried to shut every one out from knowing how they made their porcelain?"

"Yes, indeed. And you never have told me yet how the European nations found out the secret."

"Until now we had not come to that story," replied Mr. Croyden. "But to-day it chances that that is the very tale I have in mind to tell you."

Theo rubbed his hands, and with a contented smile settled back against the pillows prepared to listen.

"As I told you," began Mr. Croyden, "about 1518 Portuguese traders brought Chinese porcelains into Europe; and following their lead the Dutch imported the same goods in even greater quantities. Everywhere people marveled at the beauty of these wares just as you would have done if up to that time you had never seen anything but crude clay dishes. The whiteness of the porcelain seemed a miracle, and on every hand people were eager to make such china themselves. Especially eager were the rulers of the different European countries, who were clever enough to see that such production would greatly increase their national fame and prosperity. Now there chanced to be a Prussian by the name of Boettger, an alchemist, who because of the wars had fled for safety to Meissen. He was a man well-versed in the composition of minerals and chemicals, and in consequence Augustus II, who was at that time Elector of Saxony, sent for him, and asked him to join his other skilled chemists, who for a long time had been busy experimenting with clays in the hope of discovering how the Chinese made their porcelain. This was no unusual thing, for chemists of most of the other countries were working feverishly in their laboratories at the same enigma."

"Doesn't it seem funny?"

"As you look back on it, yes," answered Mr. Croyden. "It is almost tragic when you consider the time, patience, and money that went into these experiments—most of them failures, at that."

"Did Boettger fail too?"

"I am coming to that," replied the story-teller. "While mixing various combinations of clays Boettger and his associates came upon a hard pottery clay which was neither white nor translucent like the Chinese, but which nevertheless was nearer that ware than anything they had previously succeeded in making. In 1708 some dishes were made from this material, but they were not very satisfactory. After that Boettger tried again. You see he was not a person who was easily discouraged. The next time he got a white ware, but it was not thin; instead it was thick and ugly. He now had the hardness and the whiteness, but not the semi-transparency and fine texture of the Chinese porcelain; and although he tried repeatedly he was unable to fathom the secret of these qualities."

Theo waited while Mr. Croyden stopped to rest.

"The one thing Boettger needed he did not know where to find and that was——"

"Kaolin!" cried Theo.

"Exactly," assented Mr. Croyden. "What a pity it is that you could not have shouted the magic word in his ear as lustily as you have in mine. It would have saved poor Boettger no end of worry and hard work. However, even if he had heard the name it probably would have conveyed nothing to him, for no one in Europe had ever heard of kaolin."

"I suppose it is a Chinese word."

"Yes. The name was taken from the Chinese mountain of Kailing, where the first kaolin, or decomposed feldspar, was found."

"Now please go on with the story," urged Theo.

"Well, one day it happened that a rich Saxon iron-master was taking a ride, and as he went along his horse's foot stuck in the soft clay at the roadside. As the rider glanced down to see what the trouble was he was amazed to discover that the clay was white, and being a business man the thought instantly came into his mind that here was a way to make some money. At that time all the nobles of the Court wore powdered wigs, and the quick-witted iron-master said to himself: 'I will get some of this clay, sift it very fine, do it up in packages, and sell it for powdering the hair; thus I will make my fortune.' Accordingly his servants dug some of the clay, and after it had been carefully sifted through cloth, he put it upon the market as a new wig-powder. Now in those days the more well-to-do persons had several wigs or at least two, in order that while the one was being worn the other might be sent away to the hair-dresser's to be curled and powdered. Therefore, in the course of time it chanced that Boettger's servant, like others, sent away his master's wig to have it freshened up. When it came back it was beautifully dressed and was powdered with some of the iron-master's new powder. It looked very fine indeed, and Boettger had no fault to find with it until he took it up to put it on his head; then he observed that it was strangely heavy. 'What's this!' he cried to his servant. 'What have you been doing to my wig, rascal?' Terror-stricken the servant protested that he had done nothing. Boettger carried the wig into his laboratory that he might examine it more carefully, and he soon came to the conclusion that the weight of the article lay in the powder. He therefore shook it off and set to work to analyze it. What was his surprise to find the powder a white mineral substance of which he knew nothing. You may be sure he was not long in tracking down the hair-dresser and learning from him where he got his new powder. Next he went to the Saxon iron-master and bought from him a great quantity of the stuff, after which the chemist shut himself up in his laboratory to try out the new material. Think how excited he must have been! And think how much more excited he was when he found that this mysterious white clay was the substance for which he had so long been searching!"



"Kaolin?" gasped Theo.

"Kaolin!"

The room was very still; then Theo stammered hurriedly:

"And what happened next?"

"Well, you can imagine the joy the discovery brought; but it was a carefully stifled joy, for with all his delight Boettger was far too discreet to allow his wonderful discovery to travel outside the confines of his laboratory. When the Elector Augustus was told the news at his Dresden palace near by he was wild with delight, and immediately began building a great porcelain factory at Meissen. By 1715 there was enough of the new ware ready to be put on sale at Leipsic; and thus our beautiful porcelain, dubbed Dresden ware in honor of the Saxon capitol, came into being. The first that was made was plain white with a decoration of vines and leaves in low relief. Later some of the dishes were made with a perforated border in imitation of the Chinese and Japanese 'grains-of-rice' pattern. Afterward the potters attempted the use of blue in a vain attempt to reproduce Nankin Blue ware."

"I guess the other countries were pretty sore when they found Saxony had learned how to make porcelain," put in Theo.

"They were greatly agitated, my son," laughed Mr. Croyden. "They begged, bribed, and schemed to find out what the new clay was; but all to no purpose. The works at Meissen were guarded day and night, and every person employed in the factory was compelled to swear to keep the great secret. Men were cautioned they would be shot should they divulge the process. Be secret to Death was the motto of the manufactory, and that meant not only that they never should tell anybody all their life-long; but if threatened with harm they should prefer death to betraying their trust. They must even endure torture itself rather than open their mouths. Some histories go so far as to say that in order to secure absolute secrecy only the deaf and dumb were allowed to transport the clay."

"I don't see but they were just as selfish as the Chinese."

"Quite as selfish, alas!"

"What became of Boettger?"

"I am sorry to say he never did much of anything else that was praiseworthy. Sometimes too much success spoils people. But he had done his work, and a great work, too, in launching this vast industry. When he died he left behind him a group of thriving factories. After his death the artists at the Meissen works gradually abandoned copying Chinese and Japanese designs and began inventing decorations of their own, using both gold and an increasing variety of colors. They also began to secure the aid of sculptors, among them the famed sculptor Kaendler who modeled statuettes of saints, animals, birds, and persons in much the way the Dutch had done. These figures or groups, however, were more finely executed, and were beautifully colored. As the makers of them became more expert larger figures were attempted until some of them were life-sized."

"Goodness!"

"It does seem absurd, doesn't it?" agreed Mr. Croyden. "It is a childish impulse to want to make everything as big as one can make it. Nevertheless in a land where much of the population was Catholic you can readily understand how these gigantic figures readily found places upon altars in the churches of Europe. All might have gone well with this great porcelain plant had not the Seven Years' War arisen just at this time, lasting from 1756 to 1763. During this period Frederick the Great, the grandfather of the present Emperor of Germany, went into Saxony, stopped the royal factories at Meissen, and took the workmen as captives to Berlin."

"But——" began Theo indignantly.

"Such things are the issues of war," said Mr. Croyden gravely. "We cannot uphold them, nor cease to deplore their injustice. We can only pray that a day may come when the envy between nations will cease, and when each country shall respect its neighbor's rights in a truly Christian spirit. Then we shall have a world for which we shall not need to blush, and which will really be civilized."

"Did the Saxon workmen have to make Dresden china in Germany?"

"Yes. Works under the patronage of the Emperor were opened at Berlin, and here porcelain was made, the profits of which went to the Royal Treasury, the workmen being paid very little indeed. Much of the ware manufactured the monarch kept for his own use; and much of it he gave away whenever he wished to make a fine present to his friends. But so lavishly did the Saxon potters use the deposits of native clay that later the supply became poorer in quality, and as a consequence the body of the later Dresden was not so perfect as that made at Meissen. For this reason collectors set great value on the early Dresden work, that made between 1731 and 1756; also on the figures modeled by the sculptor, Kaendler."

"Did the works at Berlin continue?" inquired Theo, who had become absorbed in the story.

"Yes," replied Mr. Croyden. "You see, even before the capital at Dresden was captured by the Germans and the Meissen workmen carried off, attempts had been made in Prussia to manufacture porcelain from ordinary stone. Several private business concerns as well as various individuals had put their money into the enterprise and had even met with some success. But this ware was manufactured on no very extended scale. Now, however, the Emperor was determined that his venture should succeed. Not only did he bring to Berlin the workmen and the clay, but he even sent forth the edict that no Jew in his kingdom should marry until he had purchased an entire supply of porcelain from the Royal factories. As most of the Jews were rich this law assured their master a wide sale for his product. That they did not wish to spend all this money for china and resented the order troubled him not at all. Most of these unlucky Jews bought their expensive porcelain sets only to sell them afterward to other customers, and thus get them off their hands. In this way much of the early Berlin Dresden ware found its way into Russia, where rich Russian Jews were glad to buy it. After repeated improvements the Berlin porcelain came in time to be as fine as that made originally at Meissen; and not only were the Meissen works reopened under German patronage, but the State also established another factory at Charlottenberg.

"Now, do not forget, Theo, that all this early Meissen or Dresden porcelain, as well as that eventually manufactured at Berlin, was made from hard paste, or a combination of clays resulting in what we call true porcelain. Later on I shall tell you much about soft paste wares, and about bone china. None of those varieties, however, ranks as real porcelain. Remember that only the hard paste products are genuine." Mr. Croyden paused a moment, then added: "And while we are speaking of this period in history you may perhaps be interested to know that it was a workman who escaped from Meissen into Austria who started in Vienna the art of making porcelain from hard paste."

"True porcelain," remarked Theo, who had profited by his lesson.

"Just so, son. Work in porcelain-making had been going on in Austria since about 1717; but it had been done in a small way by private individuals, who had only small capital to put into it, and who had met with little success because the ware they had turned out had been thick and muddy in appearance. In 1744 the Empress Maria Theresa purchased these works, and from that time on they began to prosper. You see, the monarchs of those days could make almost any industry a success if they once set out to do so. Not only had they the capital to back their undertaking but they could compel their subjects to patronize the venture."

Theo laughed. "I see."

"Therefore by 1785 the Empress's china factory was a very busy place which was supplying with porcelain not only Austria, but also Turkey. In 1796 Lamprecht, one of the leading animal painters of the monarchy, was decorating this ware with wonderful pictures of stags, hounds, horses, in which work he excelled. But because of the Mohammedan law that no copies of living creatures could be used for designs the Turks refused to purchase these dishes. Hence Vienna, eager to retain the Oriental trade, was forced to change its artistic trend and make instead porcelains adorned with arabesques and geometrical figures. At the present time," concluded Mr. Croyden, "there are extensive pottery and porcelain factories throughout Germany and Austria-Hungary, and much of our finest ware comes from these countries. Were you to study history you would find that many of these factories sprang up from small beginnings, and that amid the turmoil of European strife they had a stiff fight for existence."

"I think I never considered before the effect of war upon anything but persons," remarked Theo musingly.

"Alas, the destruction war wages against human life is bad enough," answered Mr. Croyden. "But see, too, how it retards the arts and industries of the world. May the day be not far distant when nations shall find a more Christian and intelligent method of settling their differences, and when wars shall cease forevermore!"



CHAPTER IX

THE ROMANCE OF FRENCH CHINA-MAKING

The next day when Mr. Croyden put his head in at Theo's door to say good-morning he found the boy sitting up in bed eating his breakfast and his first remark was:

"How long did it take France to find out how to make porcelain, Mr. Croyden?"

The manufacturer laughed.

"I declare if you are not beginning this morning just where you left off last night!" he exclaimed. "What kind of porcelain do you mean, hard or soft paste?"

"Oh, any kind."

"You have not forgotten the vast difference between the hard and soft ware, have you? I should be discouraged if you had."

Theo shook his head.

"I don't believe you would let me forget even if I wanted to," he replied with an impish chuckle.

"I certainly shouldn't," smiled Mr. Croyden. Then he added more seriously: "Soft paste china, or pate tendre, as it is called, was made at St. Cloud as early as 1695, and some of it was very beautiful. Such ware looks more creamy and is not so cold and harsh to the touch. It is, however, much more fragile and for that reason, although a great deal of it was manufactured, the industry never became a wide-spread success. Later soft paste was also made at Chantilly, Vincennes, Limoges, Paris, and a number of French cities. Even the celebrated Sevres ware, the finest thing in china-making that France ever produced, was at first made from soft paste. This is easily understood when you recall that at the beginning the only clays the French knew anything about were pate tendre clays. It was not until kaolin was discovered in 1765 and taken from the section about St. Yrieix that hard paste, or pate dure, was made in France."

"I see."

"Nevertheless the French people got wonderful results from their pate tendre, and became wildly enthusiastic over the pieces the china-designers turned out. And well they might for the French were an inventive, art-loving people who certainly got fine results from their early china-making. To understand the place art occupied at that time you must remember that the Court was a centre for all those who were interested in beautiful things. The King was ever on the lookout for what was novel or artistic, and ready to give it his patronage; and whatever the King patronized became the fad among the rich, idle courtiers. So when the King turned his attention to the new art of china-making its success was assured; as a matter of course all the rest of the fashionable world did the same."

"It was a good fashion."

"A very good fashion. Often a monarch's patronage of arts and letters called public attention to a praiseworthy production that might otherwise live unrecognized for years. I sometimes think that in our day it would be a fortunate custom if more persons of influence would give thought and money to elevating the arts to their rightful position of dignity. The old custom of placing artists and scientists beyond the stress of financial worry is not a bad one. Such persons are benefactors of the race and should be endowed that they may work more freely. That is practically what the kings and emperors of the past did for some of our great writers, artists, and inventors. That is in reality what King Louis did for the newly-born china-industry. When between 1740 and 1750 a company was formed at Vincennes to make pate tendre, the King himself contributed to the venture 100,000 livres for its encouragment."

"How splendid!"

"It meant prosperity for France if the undertaking succeeded, so the act was not perhaps as unselfish as it seems; however, such a donation was of course a great spur to the workmen, who immediately began making not only dinner-sets and ordinary dishes but all sorts of fantastic and beautiful things. They fashioned colored statuettes, vases of fanciful pattern, and an abundance of most exquisitely modeled flowers. How such fragile products as these latter could be fired without injury was a marvel. Among other presents which the china-makers gave to the Queen was a vase three feet in height containing a bouquet of four hundred and eighty of these flowers, each one carefully copied from nature. These china flowers promptly became the rage. Two bouquets of them, each costing 3,000 livres, were made for the King and the Dauphin; and these remain to this day in one of the French museums. The work of this period all reflects the nation-wide enthusiasm for these china flowers. Statuettes were made with a central figure surrounded by them; there were shepherds and shepherdesses seated beneath arbors or trellises covered with the daintiest of vines and blossoms; figures of court ladies at whose feet masses of lovely flowers seemed growing. You can see some of this work in our own museums, and I am sure you will agree with me that it is little short of miraculous. The Art Museum at Boston has three very fine specimens of these early French ornaments, and there are others to be found elsewhere."

"I am going to hunt some of them up when I go home to the city," affirmed Theo.

"That's right! See all you can of the beautiful things the past has given us; you never will be sorry," declared Mr. Croyden. "Now you can imagine with a background of such progress at china-making, what a furore and transformation followed when kaolin was discovered. Pate dure was far more desirable than pate tendre, for it was much less breakable. The works at Vincennes where Sevres china really had its birth were now moved to Sevres itself, where the art of porcelain-making was gradually perfected. The plant was not far from Versailles, where the Royal palace was, and the industry immediately came under the control of the King.

"Then there was excitement indeed! Money was poured in lavishly that the infant venture might have every chance to grow. The King ordered beautiful gardens to be made about the factories, and not a week passed that he and Madame de Pompadour did not visit the works accompanied by a train of nobles and ladies of the Court. Madame de Pompadour, herself something of an artist, often touched up the decoration on a bit of china that pleased her fancy. Professional artists also lent their aid, their designs ranging from the shepherdesses of Watteau to copies of Chinese and Japanese scenes. Flowers, cupids, garlands, landscapes—never was such a diversity of decoration attempted as during the reigns of Louis XIV and XV. As a result the output became very overdone and ornate. Fortunately for art, Louis XVI had better taste. Instead of continuing this garish type of design he procured a collection of Greek vases to serve as models for his workmen, and as a result the product came back to a more classic and less florid style."

Mr. Croyden paused.

"With all this beauty in the body of the porcelain itself, and all the wonder of the modeling and painting, you must remember that throughout the period the chemists employed were making great strides in the use of pigments. No little science was necessary to find colors that would stand the intense heat necessary for firing this hard paste. You know of course that most of the mineral pigments used to decorate china do not look at all the same after they have been subjected to a high temperature as they look before. Many colors which fire out to exquisite tones look quite ugly when applied to the biscuit clay. Both chemists and artists have to be skilled in the knowledge of how these paints will react under heat. So when I say the Sevres workers reached a richness and harmony of color never before known in china-making you can imagine how much patient experimental labor probably preceded this triumph of art."

Theo's eyes had not left the story-teller's face for an instant.

"It was not as if the painters used only a touch of color here and there," continued Mr. Croyden. "Much of the ware was designed with a solid color that covered the body, small spaces being reserved for medallions in which there were heads or landscapes. The gilding, too, was very heavy, and sometimes in combination with it imitation gems were used. At the present time a color known as Rose du Barry brings the highest price in old Sevres. Other famous colors in which the French china-makers excelled were Bleu Roi, which was made from cobalt——"

"King's blue," murmured Theo.

"Bleu Celeste, a turquoise blue made from copper——"

"Sky blue!" put in Theo.

"There was also a rare canary yellow; an apple green; a fine tone of violet; and a bright red that had not been seen before in the china world. So intense was the interest in the Sevres factory that even when the French Revolution came and every relic of royalty was destroyed by the hooting mobs, the Sevres works were not touched. You see in what a magic realm the old Sevres ware had its being. We call everything dating up to 1800 Old Sevres, and you will probably find it so marked in both public and private collections."

"Is Sevres ware still manufactured?" questioned Theo, stumbling timidly over the French word.

"Yes," answered Mr. Croyden, "there is a modern Sevres, much of the success of which is due to Alexandre Brongniart who was both a geologist and chemist, and who was the director of the Sevres factories from 1800 to 1850. He did much to perpetuate the industry and keep up its standard. During his time no piece with an imperfection in it was allowed to go out from the factory."

"Was Sevres the only famous ware the French people made?"

"It is undoubtedly the most celebrated," replied Mr. Croyden, "but there are now many other fine porcelains made in France. For example at Limoges, where in 1775 pate tendre was made, there is a very extensive porcelain plant founded in 1840 by David Haviland, an American, from which quantities of pate dure or genuine porcelain for the American market are annually turned out. Much of the other French china, however—dainty, exquisite, and artistic as it is, is pate tendre. It is of course sold in quantities, but it is very perishable. There is also a so-called porcelain made from a mixture of clays and phosphates—a ware known to the trade as bone china. But of course this variety is not real porcelain. You see that much of what we call porcelain is not porcelain at all when you judge it by this strict standard. It is nevertheless very useful, and a hungry boy like you can manage nicely to eat his breakfast off it and be quite as happy. Now give me your tray and I'm off. There will be no more china-making to-day, you young scoundrel! See how long you have cajoled me into lingering already. You almost made me forget that I was going fishing."

With a friendly pat on the boy's shoulder Mr. Croyden disappeared.



CHAPTER X

HOW THE ITALIANS MADE CHINA

For the next few days Theo was in no frame of mind to talk porcelain or any other serious subject, for his new crutches came, and after Dr. Swift had adjusted them the boy was like a bird freed from its cage. He could not, to be sure, go far from the house; but even to clump up and down the veranda and the plank walks that connected the cabins was a joy. How good it was to get about once more! But, alas, the pace at which the convalescent moved was a constant source of alarm to all who beheld it. Before the expiration of the first day Theo had acquired such skill and speed that he hopped about like a sparrow. There was no such thing as stopping him. He felt bound, however, on his father's account to use some caution, and the realization that he had already caused trouble enough was a potent factor in restraining his fearlessness. Each day saw a gain in his condition, and it was evident that before long the injured leg would be as good as new.

Yet the exasperating hardship of having still to remain a captive in the camp had to be endured. In the meantime the date for the return home drew nearer and as the hours of the vacation shortened Theo's determination that his father should enjoy every possible moment of the time increased. So he was plucky enough to be as careful as he could, and while the Doctor and Mr. Croyden fished he invented for himself such amusements as were practical within his own more limited confines.

Perhaps, although he did not appear to notice this, Mr. Croyden fathomed the lad's unselfish intention more completely than did any one else. However this may be, certain it was that in spite of his sorties from the camp the merchant contrived to devote a part of every evening to Theo, whose father was occupied in writing a medical paper to be read before some convention on his return to the city. To these evenings with Mr. Croyden the lad looked forward eagerly. They were the bright spot in the day. The talks the two had together usually took place in Mr. Croyden's cabin before the open fire where the china-makers could converse freely and not disturb Dr. Swift. Such a genuine friendship between the boy and the elder man had sprung up that it would have been difficult to tell which of them anticipated this bedtime hour the more.

"Do you realize, Theo, that we shall not be having many more of these talks?" observed Mr. Croyden one evening as they sat cozily ensconced before a roaring blaze. "The last of the week we shall be starting back to civilization—to starched collars and cuffs, and the rush and hubbub of city life. For you I suppose it will mean school again; and for me it will be a matter of wading through a mountain of business correspondence that has been accumulating while I have been away. We shall miss these cozy evenings together, shan't we?"

"I certainly shall, Mr. Croyden," answered Theo earnestly.

"Well, I do not mean they shall die out altogether," Mr. Croyden affirmed cheerfully. "My plan is to have you come over to Trenton and make us a little visit when you get stronger. Would you like to? We'd go all over the china factories, and you could see porcelain made at first hand. What do you think of the scheme?"

"I'd like it better than anything else," cried Theo instantly.

"It's settled, then," replied Mr. Croyden. "I fancy your father and mother will be willing to lend you to me for a little while. You see, Mrs. Croyden and I both enjoy young people very much and we have none at home. We are particularly fond of boys, and like nothing better than to borrow one now and then. If you come you run the risk of our forgetting to return you; but I guess your parents will see to that," he concluded with a merry laugh.

"I rather think they will," replied Theo with a smile.

"Trust them for that," said Mr. Croyden. "You'd make no mistake to go back, either, for you have a mighty fine father, sonny."

"Father's—well, he's all right!" declared Theo tersely but emphatically. "So is Mother! You must meet Mother some time. She's a peach!"

"The vacation has done your father a world of good, Theo," reflected Mr. Croyden, looking into the embers. "Do you realize how much better he looks? He is much less nervous and tired."

"I hope so, sir," came heartily from Theo. "I have wanted so much not to spoil his vacation, for he needed it badly."

"I am sure you have not spoiled it," put in Mr. Croyden quickly. "You can consider that in sending a doctor back to his job in A1 condition you have done your bit to help the war. Doctors are among our most useful and necessary men."

"I know it," Theo returned. "Mother and I are tremendously proud of Father. We feel he is doing a lot of good in the world. I guess now I'll feel that way more than ever for I never knew what it was to be sick before."

There was a long pause, broken only by the velvety rustle of the logs burning in the chimney; then Theo remarked abruptly:

"Aren't you going to tell me anything about china to-night?"

"Do you wish me to?"

"Of course I do; that is, unless you are too tired."

"I'm not tired at all," responded Mr. Croyden. "I thought you might be the tired one."

"I!"

"Not bored?"

"Not so you'd notice it."

"All right, then; only you'll have to let me think a minute," said Mr. Croyden. "Where did we leave off?"

"You had been telling me about Sevres ware and other French porcelains."

"Oh, yes! Now I remember. Well, as you can imagine, after kaolin was discovered the secret gradually leaked out, and everybody went to work at making china. Kings, emperors, and princes; nobles of high birth, all took up the art with zest, spending great sums of money on fabriques, as the porcelain factories came to be called. In Florence Francis, one of the Dukes of the Medici, built a tiny laboratory in the garden of the Boboli palace and there made a rude ware, some of it hard paste and some of it soft. This was even before the St. Cloud works were opened, and certain historians say that this was the first true porcelain made in Europe. At a much later period (about 1735, to be exact) the Ginori family, another titled Italian household of wealth and position, owning estates just outside Florence, took up porcelain-making, even sending ships to China for the necessary clay. Fancy it! And to show you how highly this industry was esteemed I will add that the Marquise himself superintended his workmen and helped in manufacturing this Doccia ware, as they styled their output."

"Did this happen during the Renaissance?" inquired Theo timidly. "It sounds as if it might have."

Mr. Croyden nodded, cordially, much gratified by the lad's understanding.

"That was just when it happened," he said. "In the meantime, at about the same period, a beautiful soft paste called Capo di Monte was being made down in Naples under the patronage of Charles IV—the Charles who afterward became Charles III of Spain. Like the rest of royalty this King became absorbed in china-making—so absorbed that he went frequently to work in his factories himself, and each year held a sale of his products at the gates of his palace; whenever a piece was sold a record of it was made and later the name of the purchaser was reported to the King."

"I suppose he, too, made the nobles buy his china," laughed Theo.

"I am afraid he did," agreed Mr. Croyden. "At least it was a fact that he showed especial favor to those who did buy it, which was practically the same thing. I think I forgot to tell you that the French kings also forced, or perhaps I should say expected, their courtiers and ladies to purchase Sevres ware. It was a custom of the time."

"I think it was a rotten custom!" ejaculated Theo wrathfully.

"Certainly it was not a desirable thing. In our day we should call it graft. Still at that time there were plenty of people who were only too anxious to keep their heads on their shoulders, and who would have been glad to buy almost anything in order to do so. Doubtless they considered a little porcelain a small price for their lives, and were glad to win the favor of a capricious monarch by purchasing it. King Charles was no worse than all the rest. Later, when he became ruler of Spain, he took many of his Italian workmen there with him, and as a consequence in 1821 the Naples fabrique was closed; many of the moulds, as well as much of the outfitting, was sold to the Doccia works. As a result Capo di Monte was afterward imitated in Doccia hard and soft paste; but the original ware which is of value to collectors was that made at Naples. It is very difficult to distinguish this variety, for the Doccia people even copied the King's trade-mark."

"I suppose people could do that then," ventured Theo.

"Oh, yes. There was nothing to protect an invention as there is now," replied Mr. Croyden.

"Did King Charles continue to make porcelain in Spain?"

"Yes, he had a palace called Buen Retiro and here he established fabriques that continued to thrive even up to the time of King Ferdinand in 1780, and would probably have prospered much longer had not the Napoleonic wars come and the French destroyed the factories."

"And what became of the Doccia works in the meantime?" queried Theo.

"I am glad you asked that question," answered Mr. Croyden, "for I had not finished speaking about the Doccia fabrique. It was unique in its management. You know in our day how much we hear of proper factory conditions? Doubtless you have seen mills where there are neatly graded lawns, flower-beds, and perhaps a recreation ground. We consider such mill-owners very progressive and speak of them with keenest approval. Yet in our enlightened times such things are none too common. Now it is interesting to know that this Ginori family who founded the Doccia porcelain works were far in advance of anything we yet have done for our employees. Not only did they have lawns and gardens for their workmen, but they also had a park; a farm where vegetables were raised for the common good; a school for the workmen's children; an academy of music where all could go to concerts; and a savings-bank in which earnings could be deposited. What do you think of that for progressiveness?"

The boy's eyes opened wide.

"I guess we're not so civilized as we think we are," he remarked soberly.

"We are not the only people who ever lived—that's sure!" retorted the Trenton man grimly. "As you can well imagine, the men under the Ginori were very appreciative, and as a mark of their gratitude for all this kindness they set to work and made for the Ginori chapel beautiful porcelain monuments as a tribute to the dead and gone Ginori nobles. They also made a marvelous high altar all of porcelain, with magnificent candlesticks, fonts, and statues—a wonderful embodiment of their skill as well as their devotion."

"It must have taken some clay!" exclaimed Theo.

"I guess it did," Mr. Croyden assented. "Aside from this work the output of the Doccia fabrique was largely imitative. They made so many copies of Sevres, Capo di Monte, and Majolica that it soon became a great problem to tell the real from the imitation, and this has caused collectors no end of trouble."

"Was no other porcelain made in Italy?"

"Yes, as far back as 1515 pottery, as I told you, was made in Venice; and with the discovery of kaolin Venetian merchants imported the true clay which did not exist in Italy, and manufactured both hard and soft paste. But the industry was never a success because the expense of getting the material was so great. In 1753 the Germans, because of the cheapness of Italian labor, tried making porcelain there, thinking that they could furnish their own clays at slight cost. But the scheme was a failure. There was, however, some imitative work done later by a potter named Cozzi which was very good. But Italy has never excelled in china-making as she did in the making of glass because she had not the material to do any very extensive work. There has, to be sure, been a scattering of porcelains turned out—some from Turin; some from Treviso; and some from other cities. But aside from the Majolica pottery, and Delia Robbia's terra-cottas, Italy has not made any distinctive contribution to the china-making art. Still she has done so much in almost every other art that she should rest content. One cannot excel in everything."

"Some of us never excel in anything," laughed Theo.

"Some of us excel in falling off roofs and breaking our legs," chuckled Mr. Croyden teasingly. "And some of us excel in being very patient about it afterward," he added, patting the boy's shoulder affectionately.



CHAPTER XI

OUR ENGLISH COUSINS

All too soon the time came when grips had to be packed, tackle stowed away, and the campers start out over the carry to meet the train that was to take them to New York. The trip was a long and tedious one of two days' duration. Nevertheless our travelers did not find it wearisome. On the train were papers and magazines in plenty, and whenever Dr. Swift went into the smoking car Theo always found Mr. Croyden near at hand and willing to talk.

"And when Mr. Croyden is around no place could be dull or stupid," affirmed Theo to his father.

"I believe I shall begin to be jealous of Mr. Croyden, Theo," laughed Dr. Swift good-naturedly. "I am coming to fear that if you go to visit him as he wants you to, you never will come back home."

Theo smiled.

"You can't lose me so easily, Dad," he answered. "Just the same, I know if I do go and visit the Croydens I'll have a bully time. But I'd like to wait until I get rid of these crutches so I won't be a bother to anybody."

"That is wise. I should not feel easy if you started out on a visit before you were quite well," replied Dr. Swift. "However, it won't be long now before you can cast your crutches into the rubbish heap. In the meantime your own family can have a visit with you. I rather fancy your mother will be thankful to have you home again; she has been pretty anxious about you. No mother likes having her boy where she cannot get to him when he is ill."

"But you were there, Dad."

Dr. Swift smiled into the eyes that met his.

"Yes, I was there, to be sure," he assented. "But a doctor is not necessarily a good nurse."

"I don't see how anybody could be a better nurse than you, Father."

The Doctor shook his head.

"I'm afraid I did not fuss much over you," he answered. "At least I did not smother you with attention the way your mother would have done. You got no spoiling from me. I expect, though, that when your mother gets hold of you she won't be able to do enough for you. I can see her to-day flying round the house ordering all the things you like to eat, and getting everything ready for your coming. I shall have no attention at all."

Theo beamed.

"You will have all the attention you want, and more too, Dad, I guess," he remarked drily. "Probably a string of patients as long as this car will be waiting to pounce on you the minute you set foot in New York."

"I expect so, son. However, I shall not begrudge that sort of a welcome now, for I feel like a fighting cock."

"You really are rested, aren't you, Father?"

"I am like another man," was the vehement reply. "I was about all in when we went into camp. Thanks to you and Mr. Croyden I have had a fine chance to pull myself together and prepare for whatever comes next. You have been very thoughtful and unselfish, Theo, in leaving me free to get all I could out of my vacation. It has meant everything."

"I wanted to help you, Dad."

"You've certainly proved that, my boy. I've appreciated every bit of it."

A quick glance passed between the two.

They understood each other very well, Theo and his father.

"Here is Mr. Croyden," observed Theo. "He has been getting off some mail and telegrams."

"That is precisely what I must do," declared the Doctor rising. "I'll leave you to have one of your china-making talks while I am gone."

As the Doctor passed through into the next car Mr. Croyden sauntered down the aisle and dropped into the seat he had just vacated.

"There," announced the merchant with a satisfied sigh, "I have done my duty. I have sent off three telegrams and a lot of letters. How funny it seems to get busy after being so idle! Next week will see us all back at the grind, I suppose, and rushing about as if we had never been away."

"Are you sorry?"

"No," was the hearty response. "I like to play when I play; but I like also to work. I enjoy my business very much. It is an interesting and useful one, and I like to think that in my small way I am helping to furnish the world with things that are necessary, and tend toward comfort and convenience as well as toward beauty. People cannot get on without dishes—you and I have proved that."

"Not unless we all go back to being savages," said Theo humorously.

"We shall not do that, I hope," returned Mr. Croyden gravely. "Each century should see the race farther ahead—a more honest, kindlier, Christian nation. That is the motto we must bring with us out of this war. Not more territory, more money, more power; but truer manhood and purer souls. If the conflict does this for our people all the sacrifice and loss of life it has meant will not have been in vain. Out of the wreck a better America should arise, and we each must help it to arise—you as well as I, for we need not only good men and women but good boys and girls, if we are to have a fine country."

"A boy can't do much toward it, I'm afraid," Theo said.

"On the contrary, a boy can do a great deal," replied Mr. Croyden. "It is the boys of to-day who are going to be the men of to-morrow; and there is no such thing as suddenly becoming a good man, any more than there is such a thing as a seed suddenly becoming a full-blown plant. Everything has to grow, and grow slowly, too. So if you wish to be a wise, honest citizen who will help forward this glorious country we all love so much, you want to be setting about it right now, you and every other boy. And you want to go at the work earnestly, too, for you will be a man before you know it."

"It looks a long way off to me now," mused Theo.

"Such things always do; but time flies pretty fast. You will find yourself in college the next thing you know; and after that you will be beginning to plan your career. What are you going to be, Theo?"

"I don't know, sir," was the uncertain answer. "I'd just like to do something that really needs to be done; something that people cannot get on without."

"That is a splendid ambition," came heartily from Mr. Croyden. "I thought perhaps you'd be thinking of taking up your father's job."

"I be a surgeon!" gasped Theo.

"Why not?"

"Oh, because I'd be no good at it," the boy said. "I should never know what to do with sick people. I'd be scared to death. It seems to me now that I would rather go into making something; but I do not just know what."

"You want to be a business man, eh?"

"That is what I'd rather do."

"Humph!"

There was an interval of silence; then Mr. Croyden said:

"Well, if when you are through your education, Theo, we are out of this war and you are still of the same mind, you come to me. Who knows but you might end your days in my factories?"

The boy's eyes sparkled.

"Croyden and Swift—how would that sound?"

"It would sound all right," chuckled Theo, "but I am afraid the sound would be the best part of it. Why, I'd never be able to learn all you know about china if I lived to be a hundred years old."

"Aren't you learning things about china right now? Haven't you already learned about the pottery and porcelain of almost every nation under the sun?"

"I have liked to have you tell me about it," replied Theo modestly.

"Well, isn't that making a beginning?" queried the pottery merchant. "We have discussed the china output of almost every country, haven't we?"

Theo reflected.

"All the big countries except England."

"How did we happen to leave England out?"

"I guess you did not have time to get round to England," answered Theo. "Still all the time isn't gone yet, you know; you might tell me about England now."

They both laughed.

"I believe you are something of a diplomat, Theo," observed Mr. Croyden. "You are either a diplomat or you are a schemer. Sometimes it is very hard to tell the one from the other. In either case you seem determined to give me no peace, so I fancy I may as well tell you about English porcelain and have done with it. If I do not do it now I shall have to do it some other time, I suppose."

"I suppose you will," came delightedly from Theo.

"Well, here goes, then!"

The elder man settled back into a comfortable position and Theo wriggled contentedly into the opposite corner of the seat.

"As you can well understand," began Mr. Croyden, "the discovery of kaolin set England as eagerly to experimenting at porcelain-making as it had the other nations. Contrary, however, to other countries the English Government lent no helping hand to the industry, offering neither money nor inducements to those who would take it up. Therefore only those persons who were sufficiently interested in the new venture, and could afford to make the attempt with their own capital, dared go into it. Fortunately there were at hand some of these ambitious manufacturers. Their early experiences are interesting not so much because of the quality of their work though much of it was good, as because they were the forerunners of later workers. The paste they used was not as fine as that of the Chinese or Japanese; or in fact, that of the early Dresden or Sevres ware. Gradually, however, it became better, until now—although England turns out almost no true porcelain, that is, the scientifically blended kaolin and petuntse clays—she makes some of the most beautiful and durable china manufactured anywhere."

"What is it made of?" inquired Theo, much puzzled.

"Different combinations of kaolin clays and phosphates; a ware which in the porcelain trade is known as bone china," replied Mr. Croyden. "The phosphate of lime that is mixed with the kaolin renders the body of the ware more porous and elastic. On such china the glaze does not blend with the body and become an actual part of it as is the case with a true porcelain, but on the contrary is an outer coating which can be scratched through. But bone china is very strong, and does not chip as does a more brittle variety. For that reason where wear and durability are desired it is often preferred."

Mr. Croyden stopped a second.

"When I tell you these facts you must not think I am crying down the English wares," he said. "I could show you beautiful varieties of English porcelain. I merely wish you to understand that it has not the qualities of the Chinese, Japanese, Sevres, Dresden, or even the more modern Limoges ware. But what it loses in delicacy and translucence it makes up in strength, and perhaps after all strength is as desirable as any other quality."

"Didn't the English ever make any real hard paste china?" asked Theo.

"It is said that between 1730 and 1744 they did make some; and this product is supposed to be the only true porcelain ever made in England. It was manufactured at Stratford-le-Bow, and where do you think the clay for it came from? Strangely enough from our own State of Virginia. You can imagine the expense of bringing the clay across the Atlantic. This ware known for convenience as Bow became very popular. The first of it was hand-painted, but later the designs were transferred, and the product became cheaper. Not only were tea sets made, but also a great number of china figures of birds, animals, and shepherdesses; there were even some statuettes of celebrities of the time, which remain as an interesting record of the costumes of the period. Owing to the fact that much of the Bow china was unmarked it is frequently confused with the soft ware made at Chelsea, which was also of early English manufacture."

"Did the Bow factories continue?" asked Theo.

"About 1775 the Bow works were merged with those of Derby; and in 1784, the Chelsea fabrique was also absorbed by the Derby company. Derby china, especially Crown Derby, you must remember, is one of the finest of present day English wares. About 1777 these factories came under the patronage of King George III, at which time the term Crown Derby was bestowed on the product."

"Then an English king did help in English porcelain-making after all!" exclaimed Theo.

"To a certain extent, yes," answered Mr. Croyden. "The English nobility, too, patronized the royal factories. The ware was so beautiful perhaps people were only too glad to do so. There were plates with deep borders of solid rich color, frequently adorned with heavy gold work; and there were vases, pitchers, and bowls of magnificent hue. In fact, the use of blue and gold was brought to a greater perfection in this ware than ever before, and it established for the makers a wide-reaching reputation. Possibly this reputation might have remained preeminent had not the short-sighted manufacturers begun to sell at a lower rate their imperfect pieces, or seconds. Great quantities of these flooded the market and immediately the fame of the ware decreased."

"What a pity!"

"Since then this erroneous policy has been corrected in so far as has been possible; but the blot on the history of the Derby porcelain remains, proving that a firm that values its standing should never allow imperfect products to go beyond its doors. William Cookworthy, who, by the way, made the Bow china and who lived at Plymouth, England, in 1760, finally discovered deposits of true kaolin at Cornwall, and of this material made some more true porcelain; but unfortunately much of it was injured in the firing. His workmen did not understand the difficulties and dangers of exposing the ware to the extreme heat. But this Plymouth ware held an interesting place in the development of English china-making."

"Did the Plymouth works grow and become larger?" asked Theo.

"Alas, much beautiful porcelain, copied to a great extent from Chinese and Continental wares, was made there, but the expense of turning it out was so great that poor Cookworthy sunk a fortune in the enterprise. However, the venture was not without its fruits, for out of the Plymouth fabrique developed that of Bristol, and later that of Shelton, or New Hall. All of these plants manufactured hard paste chinas. At Bristol in 1774 a wonderfully fine tea and coffee set was made for Edmund Burke, the renowned English orator. In the meantime all over England small fabriques were springing up. At Pinxton, Swansea, Coalport, Liverpool and Rockingham; most of these factories made soft paste chinas. Then came an innovation. One of the most perfect of English porcelains, known as Spode, was produced by combining with this type of paste pulverized bones."

"Bones!"

"Yes. It seems a strange idea, doesn't it? But it was a great discovery, and one that has been generally adopted and used ever since by the principal china-making firms of England. The bone element, or phosphate of lime, as it is more properly termed, imparts both strength and elasticity to the china. Minton ware, first made in 1791 and now extensively manufactured in England and sold throughout the china-buying world, is one of these bone chinas. It is a great favorite because of its durability as well as its beauty. There were in addition many other very fine chinas made in England—far too many of them for me to enumerate. One was the Lowestoft, made from about 1756 in soft paste, and in 1775 in hard. Much of it is in imitation of the Chinese, although some was decorated with roses, and some with landscapes or coats of arms. As it had no mark upon it it is now difficult to be sure of the genuine ware. Moreover, a large amount of the white porcelain, it is said, was sent from China to Lowestoft to be decorated, and therefore the body of it is of Oriental and not English make. Worcester is another of the celebrated soft paste chinas, which at first copied Oriental designs, and later branched off into imitations of Dresden or Sevres wares. It is still made and widely sold."

"It seems as if a great many of the English wares were copies of somebody else's work," remarked Theo.

"I am afraid they were," owned Mr. Croyden. "England was not rich in originality of design. The work of Wedgwood is the only distinctively inventive contribution made to the china-making art. However, the English bone porcelains are very beautiful, and though they are not genuine feldspathic products they are highly esteemed and in demand everywhere. Now you must own, Theo, that I have given you a pretty complete outline of the pottery and porcelain-making of the European countries. Holland and Belgium, as I have told you, lack both clay and fuel and therefore had not a fair chance to compete with the other nations; but they did make some little porcelain. Sweden also turned out a little. Denmark gave a real contribution to the world in its Copenhagen ware, a type of white porcelain decorated beneath the glaze in cobalt. The fabrique for making this china was opened as early as 1760 but it never paid, and in 1775 the Government took over the works and it became a royal factory where women of rank and position joined the artists in designing and decorating the porcelain. The undertaking, however, proved so expensive that in 1876 the factories went back into private hands. But the porcelain has become world-famous and holds its place in the list of the distinctive chinas of the art universe. Look up Royal Copenhagen some time, and see how beautiful it is."

"I will," nodded Theo. "But in all this china-making did Russia do nothing?"

"Russia made her try," Mr. Croyden said. "Peter the Great was an ambitious ruler who traveled the Continent over to see what other countries were doing in the way of commerce and manufacture. When he returned from one of his pilgrimages he made the people build a new commercial and industrial centre—St. Petersburg, now Petrograd. Here he set his subjects to making all sorts of artistic things such as he had seen in Europe, especially brass, copper, and silver articles. From 1744 to 1765 under the Empresses Elizabeth and Catherine II a little really fine hard paste was produced. It was a porcelain in imitation of Dresden; but there never was very much of it manufactured. A little Russian porcelain was also made at Moscow and Poland. The Russians never excelled in pottery and porcelain-making, however, as they did in metal work."

Mr. Croyden rose.

"See," he said, "here comes your father! That means that we must bid good-bye to china-making for to-day. I fear we shall have to say good-bye to it altogether, too, for by to-morrow morning we shall be getting into New York and separating for home. But you are not to forget, Theo, that I want you to come to Trenton the first minute you are rid of these crutches. Then I shall tramp you through my factories and you shall see how all this porcelain we have talked of is made."

"I shall be mighty glad to come," responded Theo.

"I must leave it to your father's discretion, then, to notify me when he thinks you are able to make the visit," added the merchant, turning to Dr. Swift who had just joined them. "You just telephone me, Doctor, when you think you can spare this boy of yours; will you?"

"You are very kind, Croyden."

"Not a bit! Not a bit!" protested Mr. Croyden. "I shall want to see Theo, and I am anxious to have Mrs. Croyden meet him too. I only wish we had a boy just like him; then I'd have somebody to leave my business to."

He drummed on the window moodily.

"Who knows but I may be coming to help you make china one of these days, sir," suggested Theo half jokingly.

The man wheeled sharply.

"I wish I thought you would," was his quick response. "If at the end of your college career you find yourself with any such notion, sonny, you'll be very welcome."

With an affectionate glance at the boy Mr. Croyden strode off into the smoking-car.



CHAPTER XII

THEO MAKES A PRESENT

There was great rejoicing when Theo and his father reached home. It seemed as if Mrs. Swift could never do enough for her boy. The whole house was turned upside down to make him comfortable, and on the dinner table were all his favorite dishes.

"To see your mother, Theo, anybody would think you were a fragile invalid just out of the hospital rather than a husky young camper returned from the woods," growled the Doctor. "My dear," he continued, addressing his wife, "Theo hasn't had as much attention as this in all the time he has been ill. Croyden and I have not pranced round after him, I assure you. He has had to brace up and bear his troubles like a soldier; and he has done it, too."

"I suppose soldiers do have to be pretty patient," remarked Theo meditatively. "I never thought before how hard it must be for them when they are hurt."

"It is one of the great tests of courage," said Dr. Swift. "We all are liable to think of soldiers only when the drums are beating and the flags flying. Then it seems a very easy and pleasant thing to be a soldier. But there is much more to it than that. A great deal of drudgery is attached to a soldier's life, and frequently a great deal of suffering. One of the tests of a hero is to be patient when there is nothing to do but await orders, or perform some menial and uninteresting task, or lie tossing on a sick-bed. Then you find out very quickly the sort of stuff your man is made of. Those who fight are not the biggest heroes. Often the noblest and most helpful men are those who themselves are not only cheerful under monotony and dullness, but aid their comrades to be so. Therefore, Theo, when you took it upon yourself to bear your troubles in the Maine woods bravely you proved you had the first essential of a good soldier."

Theo flushed with pleasure.

"That is why we cannot have your mother undoing your virtuous deeds," continued the Doctor whimsically. "We must make her realize she has a man and not a baby to deal with. Theo is no invalid, Louisa. On the contrary, he is going right to school to-morrow."

"Not with those crutches!" protested Mrs. Swift.

"Why not? He has the term to finish, and certainly you would not have him flat out on his job when the end is in sight. It is only a few weeks to the last of June. The fishing trip was a vacation; and if he got more vacation out of it than he calculated," went on Dr. Swift with a twinkle in his eye, "why, so much the better. He is that much to the good."

"I'd rather finish my school year, Mother," rejoined Theo.

"Well, apparently it is two against one," smiled Mrs. Swift. "Your father is, of course, a far better judge of your condition than I. Broken bones are in his line. But do be careful, son, and not go skipping on and off cars when they are moving, or doing things that are going to worry me."

"Rest easy, Mother. I'll promise not to take any chances," Theo replied promptly. "I am far too eager to get well. It is no fun to be hobbling about. Besides, I want to be in trim to go to the Croydens as soon as school is over."

"Your father says Mr. Croyden was very kind to you while you were in camp."

"He was bully!"

"It would be nice if you could do something to show that you appreciated it," observed Mrs. Swift vaguely.

Instantly Theo caught at the suggestion.

"I wish I could!" he declared. "Can't you think of something, Mother?"

Mrs. Swift paused a moment.

"It would be of no use to do anything unless it was something you did yourself," she said at last. "Of course your father and I could give you the money to buy a present; but after all that would be our present and not yours."

"Oh, a gift we bought would not be of the slightest use," cut in Dr. Swift. "It would spoil the whole idea. Either Theo would have to purchase something with his own money——"

"I have only saved a dollar out of my allowance," interrupted Theo dubiously.

"Or he would have to do something, or make something, for Mr. Croyden," concluded the Doctor.

"I don't see what I could do," mused Theo.

"You couldn't make anything, son?" asked his mother.

"Nothing good enough," responded Theo, shaking his head.

"Don't they teach you how to make anything at school?"

"No, sir."

"All head and no hands, I suppose," retorted Dr. Swift scornfully. "That is the way with our modern educational system. It is a poor plan on which to bring up a boy. I wish I had realized it before. Louisa, why didn't you see to this?" blustered the Doctor.

"You picked out Theo's studies yourself, my dear."

"I?"

"Certainly. You took the outline and checked off the things you wished Theo to take this year."

"You did, Father," put in Theo.

"When did I do it?"

"Oh, one day when you were on your way to a hospital meeting," answered the boy. "You were in a hurry, and you stood out in the hall and marked the list with your fountain-pen."

"Then I am heartily ashamed of myself," confessed Dr. Swift candidly. "I had no right to do anything of the sort. I should have sat down and put some thought into the matter. Do you suppose it would be too late, son, for you to change your course of study this term?"

"I shouldn't want to change it much, Dad," replied Theo. "I'd be sorry to give up any of the things I am taking, for I have worked hard at them and it would be discouraging to have my time all thrown away. But perhaps now that I am knocked out of athletics I might put those extra hours into something else. Some of the boys take sloyd."

"The very thing!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Manual training is just what we're after. You would enjoy it, too."

"I don't know whether I would or not, Dad," returned Theo frankly. "I never was much good with tools. I like athletics better."

"That is because you have never learned to use tools properly," said his father. "Where do you suppose I'd be now if I hadn't started out when I was a boy to tinker round a farm? That's where I got my manual training, and there isn't a course in the country that can equal it. I had to use my brains, too, as well as my hands, for very often the things I needed were not to be had and I was forced to make something else do. It was a great education, I can tell you! What skill I have at surgery I attribute largely to that early training. Now we'll set right to work to remedy this lack in you, son. I'll see your principal to-day and arrange for you to begin sloyd when you go back to school."

Theo made a grimace at which his father laughed.

"If you don't like it you can at least take it as a medicine," remarked the Doctor with a grin.

Dr. Swift was as good as his word, for when Theo returned to school the following day he found that in addition to his other work he was expected to spend an hour each morning in the carpenter's shop, a realm toward which he had always maintained the keenest scorn. It seemed such a foolish thing to learn to saw and drive nails! What was the use of taking lessons? When a board was to be cut what was there to do but take the saw and cut it? It was easy enough. As for driving nails—that feat required no teaching.

But to Theo's amazement it needed only the first lesson to demonstrate to him that these superficial conclusions were quite wrong. It was one thing to cut a board haphazard; but quite another matter to cut it evenly, and on a ruled line. Nor was the driving of nails as simple as he had supposed. At the end of the first hour Theo, feeling very awkward and clumsy, and rubbing a finger that had been too slow to get out of the path of the hammer, left the workshop.

"I never dreamed it would be so hard!" he muttered, viewing his bleeding knuckle with chagrin.

The lesson of the following day did not prove much easier, and its difficulties aroused the lad's fighting spirit.

"I am going to learn to saw and drive nails properly if it takes me the rest of my life!" he declared resolutely. "The very idea! Why, some of those little chaps in the sloyd room can chisel and plane like carpenters. I'll bet I can do it, too, if I stick at it."

Therefore it came about that instead of missing tennis and basket-ball as he had expected, Theo became completely absorbed in his new interest—so absorbed that his father soon began to fear that his studies would suffer. Early and late Theo was at his bench with his tools. He tried faithfully not to slight his books, but there was no use pretending he did not enjoy his carpentry. He was making a footstool now, a little wooden piece with turned legs which he was to stain with orange shellac and give to his mother. Already he had finished a square tray and a handkerchief box. When the stool was completed he was preparing for a more ambitious enterprise, a thing he longed yet hesitated to venture upon—a wooden bookrack for Mr. Croyden.

It was to be made from oak, not from the ordinary pine wood on which, up to this time, he had been working; and it was to be a much more elaborately finished article than anything he had undertaken. He had delayed beginning it until the closing part of the term in order that he might have the benefit of every atom of training he could get before he made the first cuts in the wood. As he now framed his plans for the making of the gift he smiled to think how impossible such a project would have been a few months ago.