Pottery opens a wide course, gives much chance of success, finds scope for research and discrimination, and has also the advantage of not taking up much room, so the collector can usually hang on to anything he may fancy. In hunting for antiques you get exercise, a certain amount of excitement, and a great deal of uncertainty. It is a fine school for cultivating patience which repays you in the long run. I have times innumerable gone out of my way to pass a certain shop, to be rewarded, quite recently, by finding half a dozen blue and white pottery plates of a pattern I have wanted for years. This was doubly consoling, for my previous purchase there was broken in my pocket. In doing my own collecting of pottery I have had many strange experiences, and several of the pieces have some interesting incident associated with their coming into my possession. As they total over 250 specimens the reminiscences make good reflections, while the finding, tracing, naming and arranging for show on shelves or whatnots to the best advantage has enabled me to pass many and many an hour pleasantly, and the result is always gratifying.

Whenever I chance to be from home I make it a part of my programme to do the old shops; sometimes the old shops do me, but not often. I recently went round the shops of a seaside town and drew a blank, but I saw a jug dated 1806 which I liked. On handling it I was informed it was an old Staffordshire farmer’s jug, with farm implements painted on. The price was £10, and they had already refused £6. I felt uneasy until I had put the jug back on the shelf. In contrast to that, in almost the last inland town I visited by road we pulled up near a second-hand place and the first thing I noticed was a quaint-shaped, very early Staffordshire jug, hand painted, with blue band and some floral decoration, and so I went in. Blowing off the dust which other collectors had failed to disturb, although the town is their hunting-ground, I was told I could have it for a shilling as it was a bit snipped at the bottom. I bought that jug, and I should have been quite ready and pleased to buy the other at a reasonable price. My plough jug cost me five shillings in 1911; it is not dated, but may possibly be prior to 1806.

Soon after I set up in the pottery line I espied an old two-handled Wesleyan loving cup, with “Bethel” painted on the sides in black. While I was examining the mug an elderly gentleman came in from the back room and the following enlightening conversation ensued:

Moderato:

Good afternoon.

Eh?

Crescendo:

How much for the mug?

Thruppence.

Forte:

Where did it come from?

Thruppence.

Fortissimo:

How old do you consider it?

Thruppence.

Piano:

Oh, help!

I saw the figure of “Wesley over the Clock” in a small grocery window, and on asking if it was for sale was told “Yes! We are sick to death of seeing him on the mantel”—and then bang went saxpence.

After these reckless purchases it is consoling to remember that the bust of Whitfield by Enoch Wood was given me by a neighbour who fished it out of his lumber room. (See Plate XXXII).

I purchased several pieces at odd times from a man who spoke Yiddish to his wife and broken English to me, and no matter whether the article was Wheildon, Wedgwood, or Worcester, he invariably assured me “It was a fine bit of old Zwanzee.”

On the shelves round two of my rooms I have some quite uncommon dark blue printed plates and dishes, some unmarked, others by Rogers, Challenor, Adams, Spode, Davenport, Turner, also part set of a dinner service with fine illustrations of Pera, Mosque in Latachia, Triumphal Arch, Latachia, Pillar of Absalom. I also have the tureen, which illustrates Eski-Estamboul. One of the dishes is marked “B” and they can with safety be attributed to the Burtons of Hanley, 1820.

A dish in rich blue, illustrating Little Boy Blue blowing his horn for the cows in the meadow and the sheep in the corn; I fail to identify the cow and surmise that on this particular farm these animals must have been very much alike. I espied the rim of this dish nearly hidden on the shelf of a broker and I enquired, “Is that a blue and white dish?” and was answered, “Yes, but it’s more than you’ll pay, we are saving that for a swell who comes in a motor-car.” After this, of course I had to see it, and ascertaining the price paid up at once. I left my name and address and they promised to let me know if they got anything more like it. A few weeks later I received a postcard and caught the earliest train in great expectancy, to find on my arrival a few Willow Pattern dishes. I left these to swell the swell motorist’s collection.

Never mind the absence of marks on the back, for if you desire to decorate you want good illustrations, and these are the main consideration. When a visitor, after contemplating these plates for a time, remarks, “I like your Willow Pattern” when there is no Willow Pattern on view, I usually change the subject and switch on to domestics, as I find so many people are on the look out for these, and I gather from the conversation that in collecting them they have the greatest difficulty in finding good specimens to add lustre and charm to the home.

SALT GLAZE

Readers who are familiar with salt glaze will not be surprised when I say that the four pieces shown on Plate XXXV are all that I have fit to be trotted out, and they will probably not be taken aback when I confess to having been absolutely bewildered for some time in distinguishing this class of pottery. I read of £50 being given at, I think, the Bemrose Sale for a little ugly group, and I felt a desire to find something of this sort, though at a somewhat less fancy price. I poked in many a dusty cupboard, and messed myself up continuously for a time, until one day in an auctioneer’s stock-room I dug out a white coffee pot with a pewter lid which I felt sure was salt glaze. When the auctioneer told me I could have it for two shillings if it was any good to me, I thought how little he knew of his business. It takes two to make a bargain, and he was not the fool. I found the coffee pot was salt glaze, but only about fifty years old, so it is again hidden away in a cupboard. I had looked at bits of salt glaze in glass cases under lock and key, so I think of presenting this piece to some museum where, owing to its comparatively small value, visitors may be allowed to touch and examine it under a magnifying glass, but I should first have it labelled, “Caution to Collectors—this is the class of salt glaze to avoid.” This dud purchase turned out to be rather fortunate than otherwise, as after winking at it for a week I went carefully through my collection and found three salt glaze pieces which had remained unidentified for two years past. They are, a jug painted and gilded over the glaze, and which I had bought in my ignorance in Wakefield; a little crudely painted lustre Staffordshire jug, which I caught busy catching the drips from a paraffin tap and secured for a trifle; and a blue painted castor-oil spoon.

Later I added a salt glaze delft dish with mark showing it was made by Petit of Lille, about 1788, which proves that the statement made in more than one book on old pottery that no delft was salt glazed is incorrect. This particular dish came from Sir J. D. Forest’s collection.

Anyone with a Castleford teapot will be struck with its likeness to salt glaze. I happened on one in a town where the manufacture of heavy chemicals is very evident in the atmosphere, and the brokeress said she had been told that the teapot was “salt-cake.” The same good old lady was once kind enough to invite me to step up to her bedroom, and a very nice room it was, its cleanliness, contents and comfort being greatly at variance with the shop and store-room below. Among the ornaments of which she offered me the choice was a fine “Cobbler’s Wife,” 12 inches high, probably Rockingham, which she had bought at a sale, and was pleased to part with at a profit. I have searched for years for the “Cobbler,” but have failed to trace him. If anyone knows his present address, and will communicate with the author, they will be suitably rewarded.

TOBY JUGS (See Plate XXXIII)

None of these Toby jugs have any maker’s names on them, but I believe the large and small of the same design are by Davenport. “The Squire” appears to be the oldest, but whether it or the “Hearty Good Fellow” is the most valuable from a collector’s point of view I cannot say, and I will tell you why. My first impression of “The Squire,” which I obtained through a window, was “What a beauty!” I had seen a letter in the Connoisseur just before giving a photograph of one like it, so I was on the alert at once. Enquiry elicited the information that the dealer thought it was really old, that he bought it off a man who looked through the shop door, then went away and came back when the dealer was disengaged. “I didn’t know the man; apparently he was hard up—wouldn’t give any name, but he wanted a sovereign, so I gave it him, and you can have the jug for twenty-five shillings.”

I have heard of a dog having a bad name, though Toby isn’t a bad name for a dog, but I soon came up against a Toby with a bad name. On mentioning to my late friend the collector-dealer my purchase of “The Squire,” what I had given for it, and where I bought it, he said he was sorry to hear it. He had seen that Toby and would not touch it, as he had been warned against it by another dealer, and if I wished for another like it he could give me an address in the Potteries where I might get one for 3s. 11d. The next time he was at my house he was hard to convince that he was mistaken; but when I told him I had shown it to a practical potter, who cautioned me that if I filled it with water I must not carry it by the handle, as it was partly perished with age, he gave in. Not long after I chanced to meet near home a well-known dealer who had just come from Harrogate to attend a sale of antiques in our neighbourhood and who enquired of me the way. I asked him to have lunch with us and offered to drive him to the sale later. I am afraid this was rather diluted hospitality, for I was desirous of having his opinion of, among other things, “The Squire.” After careful examination he pronounced it genuine, but he seemed to fancy the “Hearty Good Fellow” more.

When I first saw the “Hearty Good Fellow” it was in a window mainly given up to the display of modern ironmongery, and on enquiring the price was disappointed to hear it was sold and that a man was calling for it later. Then I said, “Ask him what he will take for his bargain, and don’t you part with it.” I am not sure how much I slept that night, but I know I called on my way to business, and I spent a bright and happy morning with the “Hearty Good Fellow” on my desk.

I had an amusing experience when purchasing “Uncle Toby,” for when the dealer asked me 25s. I was able to say (having had a look at the bottom of the jug) that it was marked in ink 15s. When I showed him this he let himself go, and if the female assistant—who was not about at the time—had heard one tithe of the forcible expressions of opinion in which he held her business acumen, she would have gone into service straight away, for among her qualifications he considered she was more fit for cooking potatoes in their jackets. I refer to this gentleman elsewhere as having some temper, but on this occasion I waited patiently until he had come down to nearly normal, bought some other things, and got “Uncle Toby” at the price (15s.) on which he still sits.

Toby teapots must be scarce. I have seen none other, except in 1915, when I noticed two in a shop window on the Pantiles at Tunbridge Wells. I obtained mine through the death of an old lady who lived in our locality.

LIVERPOOL POTTERY (See Plate XXXV)

To identify all the Liverpool pottery one may come across as being made in Liverpool is wellnigh impossible; the various factories seem each to have had some special features, while many of the jugs are very like those made by old Staffordshire firms. I say this partly by way of apology, as it is more than likely I have put under this group some jugs made elsewhere, and the same remark may apply to odd jugs in the Staffordshire group; but as I am not out to sell the things I cannot see that I lay myself out to any serious charge of misrepresentation. If you are of a different opinion, then I must plead that I have no fraudulent intent.

Away back in the days beyond recall an authority on this subject very kindly came out here and named my specimens as far as he could, but I notice among the labels I had then affixed the word “probably” sometimes appears before the name given. I was somewhat disappointed with the result of his visit, for he pronounced some of the jugs which I had hoped were Liverpool as not coming within that family, so I have decided to be my own judge in future, as by that means I may in time have one of the largest collections of “Old Liverpool” in the country. As those I include will be so near in appearance to some of the varieties made, I am hoping no collector will have reason to dispute my classification. Only one jug is marked, and that has a letter “P,” which denotes Pennington, and I spotted this mark without a suspicious dealer—to whose astuteness I refer later on—being aware of the fact, and so I got it for 3s., which is not an excessive price considering it is hand painted with line decoration, an uncommon design, and bears a very rare mark.

Collectors should be careful how they clean Old Liverpool which has been printed over the glaze, for I remember on one occasion I gave a sovereign for a jug with pictures done in brown which had a smudgy look. The dealer was a straight man, and said if I was not satisfied he would give me my money back. When I got home and filled the bathroom hand-basin with hot water and soda and began cleaning, I thought what a dirty condition the jug must be in, for the water soon began to look like brown ink. I thought it was time to probe deeper, and to my alarm found the picture still blurred, but not so dark in colour, and then I thought I was “done in brown”! I saw the dealer and told him all about it. When he asked was I not satisfied, I admitted I was not altogether enamoured with the running thing, and that it was the pictures by the Old Master I placed such value on, so he laughingly returned the money.

A collector from the south came along soon after and gave the dealer more than the even sovereign. My only wonder is how many times that jug has been washed since, and how much of the pictures remain.

A jug 8½ inches high shows “King William, Prince of Orange,” on horseback, and on the reverse side a print of Britannia and Erin throttling a snake coiled round a broken pillar, also the words “Great Britain and Ireland United MDCCC.” One 7-inch jug has an heraldic illustration headed “The Cooper’s Arms,” and on the reverse side a lion and anchor surmounted by “Great Britain and Ireland United 1800.” A specially fine specimen of Herculaneum pottery is the 7½-inch jug of uncommon pattern which gives the “Duke of York” and “Prince Coburg” in relief, and this jug is painted in the old delft colours, brown, yellow, orange and blue. The cups and saucers bear portraits of Washington and Lafayette; they must have missed the American boat over a hundred years ago, or I should not have found them in Wigan, and they were undoubtedly made for the American market.

SUNDERLAND (See Plate XXXIV)

Many of these jugs and mugs are very quaint, but it is to me impossible always to identify them. One evidently commemorates the opening of the cast-iron bridge over the River Wear on August 9th, 1796. The fact that maritime subjects were often used for illustration assists in deciding sometimes, so I include the frog-mug. Lake lustre and yellow lustre were largely used, the colours being brushed on in a careless way.

DON POTTERY (See Plate XXXV)

So much pottery was made without indication of its origin that it is well for a collector when he comes across a marked piece cheap, even if it is imperfect, to procure it. In 1915 I bought a pedestal oval-shaped bowl which bears the distinction of being the only piece in my collection which did not cost me more than 2d. It looked as if it had spent half its long life in an oven and most of the remainder in being knocked about, for both handles were off. I saw it was impressed “Don Pottery” and knew it would be made in Leeds about 1780, that it bore traces of being printed in black transfer at Liverpool, that it had been banded black by hand, and that the colour of the ware was of a dark grey cast. In June, 1919, I saw the uncommon plate shown in this group bearing many features tallying with the Don Pottery bowl but in perfect condition (unmarked), having also a silver lustre band, and on comparing these pieces satisfied myself they both came from the same factory. Such finds as these, trifling though they may be, help to make collecting a pastime.

TURNER LANE ENDS (See Plate XXXVI)

In 1911, in an old shop at Prescot, near the house in which Kemble lived, I discovered a well-printed blue-and-white dish impressed “Turner” and bought it, finding a place for it on the shelf over the mantel. Three years after I was in a manufacturing town 25 miles away looking about, and in a sort of a marine store window noticed a tureen (unmarked) with ladle complete which matched my Turner dish. Enquiring the price, the woman said “she didn’t know,” and “he was out.” So I asked her to fetch “him.” When “he” arrived, somewhat fuddled, I asked him the price, and on getting his answer remarked it seemed a bit stiff, when he huffily and huskily replied, “Why, the —— ladle’s worth the money,” and left me straightaway. With an assurance like that from such an authority I decided to buy. I knocked, and my lady friend appeared again and anxiously put the question:

“Did you pay him?”

“No.”

“That’s a good thing; I’ll have the money.”

The tureen has since adorned my mantel, and it might have been a part of the same set as the dish. I recently found at a Red Cross sale a little pickle-holder to match. I once priced a larger dish of the same pattern, but owing to the difficulty of getting it home left it, and the next time I was in that town it had been sold.

WEDGWOOD (See Plate XXXII)

Josiah Wedgwood must have been a wonderful man, and I am pleased to have a portrait of him on a jug bearing his name on a scroll with the dates “1730 to 1795.” I believe this to be a Centenary piece, and as his works started in 1752 the jug will be about seventy years old. I have seen so much of Wedgwood’s Jasper Ware that I have refrained from buying any, but I show two small pieces—a really old pepper-pot and a sugar bowl (part of a set here)—which I did not collect. Early on I placed the teapot, sugar bowl, and cream jug in my china cabinet, but as so many visitors after running their eyes over my rarer specimens usually remarked, “I see you have some Wedgwood,” I put them out of sight. This Jasper Ware has had a tremendous sale for years and years, and is better known than its age. For these three things I substituted a Jasper spill vase, and many a spill has been caused by the knowing ones calling this Wedgwood, when it is not.

I have been lucky in finding some early specimens of Wedgwood—a plate impressed “Pearl,” printed but touched up by hand, a pair of tortoise-shell (back and front) plates with raised daisy and bead border. One plate, octagonal shape, cupids dancing in centre, with a remarkable light and shade effect, with oak-leaf relief border, and having a fine tortoise-shell back. All these are heavy and have “Wedgwood” stamped in large type, so they will date 1760 to 1765. These are followed by a Cream-ware plate, partly hand coloured, and a little later by a plate of a whiter shade giving a brown printed view of sailing vessels in harbour. These have the impressed mark in smaller type. Two little teapots, one black basalt and the other bisque pattern, about 1780, complete this interesting group.

Another excellent specimen of Queen’s Ware will be seen on shelf No. 1, Plate XXXIII. This bears the early large type Wedgwood impressed mark, and has the lug and feather border carefully painted in brown and red over the glaze. As my ten plates—two of which were given me—have cost me just half the price I was once asked for a single cracked tortoise-shell plate, I conclude I have been working on right lines.

PUZZLE JUGS (See Plate XXXIV)

With the intention of describing to the reader the peculiarities of these jugs and the difference in the puzzles, I have just had the six filled with water to experiment with so that I might give lucid explanations of the enigmas, and I have been most successful—in making myself wet. That the investigation should be complete, I obtained the assistance of a young friend who revels in logarithms and abstruse problems, and as I noticed signs of his temper giving way under his many efforts to elucidate the why and the wherefore of these strange devices and their tricky behaviour, the enquiry is postponed sine die.

Of the two brown stoneware jugs the one with figures in relief hails from Brampton, and the other would have been made in some local pottery. The tall, fancy shape is a good specimen of those made at Leeds. The one with the pantomime group would be made in Staffordshire about eighty years ago, while the Harlequin jug was the work of Elsmore and Forster, about 1850. The white jug is the oldest of the tribe, and I should be surprised to hear of another like it being in existence. I fancy this to be the work of an industrious apprentice to show what a clever hand he was, and that the letters “G. B.” scratched on the bottom under the glaze will be his initials. I wish he had not given in his tally before he had added a date.

NELSON JUGS (See Plate XXXII)

The jug almost covered with blue printing is a fine specimen, showing Nelson, the Victory, and a list of his titles and his battles, together with his famed last signal and some eulogy. The jug with Nelson in relief bears on the reverse side a likeness of Hardy, and it is in such good condition that I believe the party I bought it from in Liverpool thought it was a reproduction, while I felt quite satisfied that it was a specially well preserved antique. The black printed jug is a disreputable-looking relic, and when found it appeared as if it had been in the battle of Trafalgar instead of commemorating the fight, for the jug had “got it in the neck” and had lost its handle. As the printing was all there I decided to salve it, and after going into dry dock it came out looking quite spick and span. Dampness, followed by a spell of hard frost, penetrating where it was berthed, shivered its timbers, and so you see the paint and enamel coming off. I give this as a warning to any collector who may pay about half a sovereign to get a piece of old pottery overhauled to ever after keep it in a warm, dry place and not to touch it unless compelled.

MASK JUGS (See Plate XXXIV)

My advice is, it you can buy old jugs like these two at a reasonable price, do so. You would not be able to see the handle of the one which faces the audience if it were in profile, for some “daft budy” had knocked it off before I came along.

DELFT (See Plate XXXV)

An amateur will find it difficult to get to know this when he finds it, but he will find it still more difficult to find it before he gets it. I think something of what I have, especially one 9-inch plate with coloured design, Liverpool Fazakerley pattern, and someone must have thought quite a lot of it before I gave a shilling for it, as they went to the trouble of breaking it and to the expense of having the pieces fastened together again with seventeen rivets. The two other coloured plates are not yet identified, while the hand-painted blue plate is semi-porcelain. The French candlestick, richly decorated by hand, bears the mark of Widow Perrin, of Marseilles, 1770. It was sold to me as a sauce-boat, and when I enquired the meaning of the chimney in the centre was answered, “How should I know?”

A large Bristol Delft dish, blue painted, figures at the top of the pictorial pottery on Plate XXXVI.

Twentieth-century Dutch delft is not antique; I have been where it was in the making in Holland and seen it on sale in old shops in England.

ROCKINGHAM (BROWN) (See Plate XXXIII)

I am fortunate in having a Cadogan pot impressed “Rockingham,” as by comparing I believe I have only included brown ware made at this factory. Brown “Rockingham” snuff-taker jugs have been made elsewhere by the thousand.

LUSTRE (See Plate XXXIII)

I have chosen for this group what I consider the best of my bunch, which consists of gilt, copper, silver, lake, brown, and yellow lustres. The only marked one shows that J. Aynsley was using lustre about 1800. My largest copper lustre jug bears the first owner’s initials, “W.P., 1823,” while the silver lustre cannon is lettered “Battle of Wagram, 1806,” so I can only surmise that most of these exhibits were made in the first half of the nineteenth century. The main difference between the modern and old lustre ware is usually noticeable on the bottom of the pieces, the finish of the old being more carefully executed.

WOOD, ENOCH AND RALPH (See Plate XXXII)

All students or collectors of old pottery will be anxious to have authentic representations of the work of these early potters. I was lucky in having the bust of Whitfield given to me, and I am convinced this is genuine. I have tried to procure Enoch Wood’s companion bust of Wesley, but the two I have had offered were reproductions, the features not being so sharp and the impress mark blurred and indistinct. Ralph Wood had a great reputation as an engraver of moulds, and this is certainly justified by my large light blue enamelled jug, impressed “Wood.” I also show an early brown printed plate impressed “Wood” beside the word “Ivory,” which plate will probably be contemporary with the Wedgwood “Pearl.”

BROWN AND BUFF STONEWARE (See Plate XXXIV)

The Doulton Jubilee Jug dated 1887 is probably the most modern of the pieces photographed, but the small jug next it will make up for the matter of age if it is Old Fulham, as I believe it to be. The jug with hunting scenes in relief is stamped Copeland, while the small “salt” with lion-head ends is by W. Briddon, and would be made in Chesterfield about 1770. This and the Fulham jug are salt glaze.

I have omitted to include a Spode buff mug with lion-head handle and blue rim giving “Wellington, with soldiers and a cannon” (9.2 in.), also a Continental tree with huge leaves in white relief commemorating the Battle of Vittoria, 1813.

TRANSFER PRINTING

Anyone interested in the evolution of this art would find in my collection enough specimens to point out the advancement as time went on, and evidence that not many years elapsed before the printing was all that it need to be. My earliest example is an irregular wavy edged 7½-inch plate, the glaze of which looks like thin tin enamel, and over this glaze there is a quaint picture of a woman and child in a garden under a palm tree, of course. To add to the impression that this is a very early effort at stipple printing on pottery there is a white line running nearly across the print, denoting the paper had either been torn or the blue ink had not entirely covered it. The plate is crazed all over like a fine spider’s web. The sauce-boat described on Plate XXXVI as printed over the glaze, probably dates next, and then must come a study of a 10-inch cream-coloured ware soup-plate. This is not among the pieces photographed, as I have only just discovered its peculiarities, which, now they have secured my attention, strike me as remarkable. It is the heaviest plate of its size I have, and weighs 1 lb. 9 oz.; it is well made, and is in good preservation. It is printed over the glaze with fern leaves and common English flowers, like poppies, lilies, and harebells, the stalks and foliage in green transfer, while the flowers are enamelled red and yellow by hand. With difficulty I have made out the mark to be an impressed crown, and this, together with the colour of the ware, satisfies me that it is an early piece of Herculaneum. It was pushed on to me nine years ago by a dealer, instead of a shilling change out of a sovereign, with the remark, “Perhaps you would rather take that plate,” and I did not wish to disappoint him by declining anything he desired to be rid of. Readers will do well not to miss any transfer printing over the glaze, and the search for it will keep them busy.

NOTES ON THE GROUPS

I now come to the arranging of the groups of the many jugs and pieces which I know are worthy of being shown, and I find I am up against the difficulty caused by so few of the makers marking their wares. The advantages of the markings on pottery are twofold. In the first place, you get a guide to the age of the piece, also an idea of the class of work the maker mainly went in for. Secondly, you can guess at the age fairly well of pieces made by other makers who copied the designs. By the Cottage Jug I know I have some Whieldon, but how much more I cannot say, so I shall confine my efforts in this direction to the endeavour to make the photographs a guide as to age, and I believe I can show that the period from 1750 to 1850 is covered. The style of the earliest specimens is so pronounced there is little difficulty in picking them out. The large jug with a farm-house painted on it bears on the front, “T. Clare, 1805,” which helps me to fix the date of others with somewhat similar handpainting. Then the illustrations give a clue, for instance, the Duke of Wellington and General Hill, Nelson and Hardy, Princess Royal and Prince of Prussia, Queen Caroline of England, pictures of the stage coach, prize-fighting, cock-fighting, the first railway trains, Disraeli and the Earl of Derby, Gladstone and John Bright, George IVth died 1830, Grace Darling died 1842, and, to end the list happily, a plate, cup, and saucer printed in green, “Commemorating Sir W. W. Wynn attaining his majority 1841.”

Photographic readers may be interested to know that I have used the same set of shelves for the pottery that I used for the metal subjects, but covered with brown paper for the former and white for the latter. A few of the light blue items are rather disappointing; these, of course, required less exposure than the darker colours, but I could not separate them all from the groups to which they belong. The groups have required six negatives, but they have had eight exposures. After the first six operations I sent the three slides to my developer, who reported Numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4 as “quite good,” but Numbers 5 and 6 had “no plates in them,” so the result failed to reach the high pitch of efficiency to which I had aspired. The groups had to be rearranged another day, and the slides chanced to be filled that time.

Pretty Poetry Printed on Pottery

Parents are advised, before compelling their children to commit the following gems from the jugs to memory, to insist on their repeating aloud the above title rapidly but accurately until they or their children are, so to speak, fed up.

On an “Oddfellows’ jug,” which holds about a gallon:

On a Sunderland jug, giving view of “Bridge over the River Wear”:

On a Sunderland jug, with picture of ship in full sail, titled, “True Love from Hull”:

On a Sunderland “Frog mug,” showing a black print of a man-of-war with all sails set:

The Fairy of the Sea

On a jug with print, touched up with colours, of a tavern called:

The Jolly Boatmen

On a Queen Caroline jug:

On a Staffordshire milk-bowl with a black printed farm scene:

God Speed The Plough

On a Liverpool jug bearing a representation of “Charity”:

Success To Commerce and Trade

On a Staffordshire jug, probably made by Daniels, and transfer printed with a picture of an old dandy, who has a paper headed “Oracle” on his knee, and whom the artist has crowned with a wig that would stuff a furnish-on-the-hire-system settee:

On a small plate with a rim edged with red, which carries the alphabet in raised letters, I see a quaint print of two men, one holding his hat in his hand, the other has his right hand thrust in his vest, while the left is in the flap pocket of his knee breeches. There is, of course, a cow, one sheep, and a lamb. In the background there is a thatched roof covering some house from out of which a lady, who appears to have donned her shop-soiled sables, has brought into the road a stool and a spinning-wheel. She is sitting on the former while she works the latter. It is a quiet road, and no motors are anticipated. The artist has wonderfully conveyed the idea that they are having a very warm time, and that the “Johnnies” are having a heated argument; further, it is the fly season, or why is the cow whisking her tail? It is a peaceful scene, for not a leaf stirs, and it is small wonder that the author has been carried away from his object, which was to report that at the top of the illustration there is printed:

While at the foot every child can read:

So I conclude the diligent spinner whose hands are hidden by his clothing is bothered by too large a shirt on this hot day, and that he is such a super-diligent spinner that he sees his wife does the spinning while he swanks about counting the cow, sheep, and lamb, and is accosted by an indigent acquaintance who is anxious to negotiate a loan—hence the heated argument.

WILLOW PATTERN (See Plate XXXVII)

Of course, everyone knows the Willow Pattern; if not, they fancy they do, and it was only natural that the first old looking dish I met with I bought. It was marked “stoneware K. & B.”; there was also a small cross in blue. I couldn’t find “K. & B.” in the book I then had, but I found a cross was a Bristol mark, so I concluded the dish was old Bristol, whereas it would be made by Knight and Bridgewood in Staffordshire. Then I bought other Willow Pattern plates and dishes, some marked on the back and some not, and found there were no two actually alike. On reference I found that the Willow Pattern was the original design of Thomas Minton, made for Thomas Turner, of Caughley, so I turn(er)ed to my guide books to look for a reproduction of the genuine picture, and I found each author showed photographs which differed in many particulars, but some specially recommended marks “C” or “S” and I surmise that we may take it that “C” is the most original of all the originals.

As I was growing older every day, and wished to solve this Anglo-Chinese problem for the benefit of a bewildered brain, I rambled farther afield, and at last discovered a dish marked “S,” this being the mark of the Salopian works which were early in the market with this remarkable design. When I found another dish marked “S,” I exchanged two of my mongrels for it, and I repeated this bargain when I found a third. I use the word “bargain” from the shopkeepers’ point of view, as they would by my generous treatment receive double from their sale than they had previously expected. One of them told me I was too good-natured ever to be well off, and I think he was a man of keen perception of character, but it is disconcerting if a bank-book can be revealed by the face, or by the old Burberry worn on the back. Having a trio of the genuine article, each one “bought” at different places, on comparing I found the pictures identical, although the blue varied slightly, and so I recommend the reader, if he is interested in this grave question, to study Plate XXXVII.

My cue is to look at the wagtails or love birds, and if the one on the off side is a cock and carries his wings perpendicularly, or if she is a hen and, after looping the loop, has also acquired the same wing position, which appears to be just the right one for billing and cooing, then it is about time for the collector to turn-er-over and see if there is anything more fascinating than a love story on the back of the piece.

To make myself doubly clear, and to remove any possible doubt whatsoever, I give an illustration of another Willow Pattern dish which has no mark, and is, to my mind, worth half a dozen of the “S” specimen as an antique, for it must be fifty years older, is a better shape, and a nicer blue. I obtained a pair of these from an auctioneer, one being broken in two, and whether I gave him three shillings for the whole one or for the whole lot I am uncertain, and so I cannot make up my pottery account, for I am unable to say the exact number of pieces I have bought. I rather think he sold me the whole one, and gave me the two halves; he certainly did not knock down the lot, or both the dishes would have been broken. With some stuff that is guaranteed to stick everything, on two occasions I joined the two halves, but each time they fell apart a while after. As the third time is like no other my reward for perseverance was that they held together until I nearly got the dish on the shelf, when half fell on the floor, broke in many pieces, and I dropped the other on the top of them in disgust. I suppose those uneasy birds started carrying-on, and the cement did not have a proper chance to set.

I shall now have to photograph No. 2, and I must see those cuckoos maintain their present positions.

“Birdie, come here a minute and help me take a photo. You keep an eye on that off-side budgeregar, and see he doesn’t budge, while I put a W.P. plate in the slide.”

“Hurry up, dad—they’re gliding.”

“A’hem! they’ve shifted—so like a bird to move; it’s a snapshot anyway.”

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, but when they are in the air, and you haven’t got your gun,—well, there you are. Talk about Willow Pattern—but those flighty birds are no pattern.

I once collected a pair of love-birds in London, and fetched them home. I thought they would do well in the nursery to teach the young idea how to love. One day Mr. Lovebird got loose and flew about the room until at last he found a perch out of reach in a hook in the ceiling from which was suspended a swing. The hook was kept well greased, and what with friction and dust he could not have found a handier place for disguising himself as a blackbird. To get him down the nurse hit upon the brilliant idea of dipping a stick in treacle, and poking about with this to entice him down, with the result that he got treacled as well as vaselined. At length he was caught, and put under the bathroom tap by my better half, who was rewarded by having his beak through the best half of her thumb. When I came home to lunch, on learning what had happened, I flew to the nursery, and then I saw something that looked akin to “L” on one end of the perch, looking very down in the feather, while Mrs. L. was at the other end. I enquired, “Lovey, why don’t you get on with your loving.” When swallowing a tear he answered, “She won’t let me, cos I’m sticky.” I said, “Oh, that’s foolish; if you love one another you should stick together whatever happens.”

I gave them to a local bird dealer eventually, and the last I saw of them they were playing about with some rabbits. This man came up to cure a Plymouth Rock rooster which I thought had the gout; he wrung its neck, and that is what I would like to do with those wriggling skylarks which have caused me all this trouble.

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“Hello—what’s this?” In reply the broker just said “Two.” Of course he meant the price of the plate, but I referred to the portrait; on my explaining he only answered, “Don’t ask me.” I felt sure it was intended for Tennyson, for although we writers are a bit jealous, we soon get to know one another. I wanted my impression confirmed, so I enquired of No. 1, “Who do you think this is?” “Oh, that’s Sir Stafford Northcote; I can tell by his beard.” No. 2 said it was “Garibaldi,” judging by his necktie. Then I considered, who do I know who runs a beard, because anyone who flies a kite at this angle usually trims it À la somebody, and so I thought of my friend the librarian. He has plenty of whiskers on his face, a store of information in his head, and much more on his shelves, and it’s no use having a lot of shelves if you store everything in the brain. He thought it might be Tennyson and yet it had a look of Browning; it had rather too much beard for Tennyson. I pointed out that at intervals beards were usually trimmed, and he, whilst stroking his own, agreed with me. He kindly produced volumes which gave Tennyson from photographs, woodcuts, and steel engravings, taken at various times, and the beard seemed to change after each poem; in the end I came away firmly convinced it was Tennyson, and he didn’t seem to mind who it was. I know that Tennyson was born in 1809, and the plate was made before 1867 by Copeland, otherwise the mark would be “Copeland and Son,” so if we call the plate sixty years old, we find that the great poet was honoured by a halo of Willow Pattern when he was about fifty, and that is as near as one can guess to with such an illustration. I need hardly say that Tennyson was not the writer of that much-whistled and enticing poem “Tit-willow, Tit-willow, Tit-willow.”

I thought I had done with Willow Pattern, but the arrival of Tennyson has caused a flutter in the dove-cot. When I came to arrange a photograph for this book I found he was out of place in any position for making an artistic group worthy to grace a standard work on the Willow Pattern such as this aspires to be. I therefore went through—or to be more accurate took up a position in front of—my collection, and seeing a set of Leeds bread dishes with beaded edges, found they were all too large. (By the way, these have no warblers on their design.) Then I saw an oval pie-dish by Job Meigh and Son, and thought that was no match; next I caught sight of a pair of dishes by the so-called Wedgwood and Co. of Stockton-on-Tees, but neither of those would fit the space. A small pickled-onion holder, shaped like a flat-bottomed boat or barge, was hardly dignified enough, especially as the futurist artist had given his coots two wings and two tails each. I was on the point of throwing up the sponge—which, of course, I did not have with me—when I espied on the top shelf a hot-water plate with an antique cork in the hole. This I thought very suitable, for had I not heard an ode to the odour of a cork by a poet who had lost his licence? Also the lapwings looked fairly normal. Perhaps they were tired with having had such warm times and fidgeting about trying to find a cool corner on a round surface. Anyway, they did not look like nesting in that beard and thereby upsetting the growth of years.

I must decline to discuss the matter further.

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