manufacture of earthenware is almost the same today as it was a century ago, but the appliances of the present day workmen are not so primitive as were those of the old German potters.  Mary, a new pottery works has been started quite lately in the exact locality where, over one hundred years ago, were situated the Dichl and Headman potteries, where my highly-prized, old sgraffito plate was manufactured.  I hear the new pottery has improved machinery for the manufacture of vases, flower pots, tiles, etc.  They intend manufacturing principally ‘Spanish tiles’ from the many acres of fine clay found at that place.  The clay, it is said, burns a beautiful dark, creamy red.  As you are so much interested in this subject, Mary, we shall visit this new pottery some day in the near future, in company with your Uncle John.  It is no great distance from the farm.  Quite an interesting story I have heard in connection with a pottery owned by a very worthy Quaker in a near-by town may interest you, as your father was a Philadelphia Quaker and Ralph’s parents were Quakers also.”

[Illustration:  A-38 Schmutz Amschel]

[Illustration:  A-39 Antiquated Tin Lantern]

[Illustration:  A-40 Schmutz Amschel]

[Illustration:  A-41 Fluid Lamp]

[Illustration:  A-42 Candle Mould]

“Yes, indeed, Aunt Sarah!  I’d love to hear the story.”

“This Quaker sympathized with the colored race, or negroes, in the South.  This was, of course, before slavery was abolished.  You don’t remember that time, Mary, You are too young.  It is only history to you, but I lived it, and when the slaves ran away from their owners and came North to Philadelphia they were sent from there, by sympathizers, to this Quaker, who kept an underground station.  The slaves were then placed, under his direction, in a high ‘pot wagon,’ covered with layers or nests of earthenware pots of graduated sizes.  I heard the driver of one of these pot wagons remark one time that when going down a steep hill, he put on the brake and always held his breath until the bottom of the hill was reached, fearing the pots might all be broken.  The wagon-load containing earthenware and slaves was driven to Stroudsburg, where the pots were delivered to a wholesale customer.  Here the runaways were released from their cramped quarters and turned over to sympathizing friends, who assisted them in reaching Canada and safety.  I have frequently met the fine-looking, courtly old gentleman who owned the pottery, and old Zacariah Mast, the skilled German potter whom he employed.  They were for many years familiar figures in the little Quaker town, not many miles distant.  Both passed away many years ago.”

Mary, who still continued her explorations of the corner cupboard, exclaimed:  “Oh!  Aunt Sarah!  Here is another odd, old plate, way back on the lop shelf, out of sight.”