the application of any colour which might be required. He tried successively several hundreds of compounds of various ingredients in different proportions, upon fragments of earthenware which were submitted to furnaces constructed by himself. For weeks and months he pursued his experiments without the faintest prospect of success. Drugs were expensive, fuel was scarce, his family needed support; and it seemed as though he were wasting his time and energy upon a fruitless and unprofitable dream. Still, he was not to be baffled or dismayed; weeks, months, and years passed, while he still went on, every day pounding and grinding new materials, constructing new furnaces, consuming fresh drugs and fuel-all in vain!

Unable at length to bear the expense thus incurred, he proceeded to diminish it, by sending his trial-pieces to the furnace of a pottery not far off. His first batch so sent consisted of from three to four hundred pieces, not more than three of which were covered with the same compound. They were baked and drawn out, and turned out good-for-nothing. Palissy had not yet learnt that the potter's furnace was not hot enough to melt the enamel; so he laid the blame on his materials, and went on mixing fresh compounds, and sending them again and again to the potteries, and receiving nothing in return but disappointment, vexation, and

sorrow.

The increasing wants of his family compelled him for a time to desist, and betake himself seriously to some more profitable work. He obtained work in glasspainting, and fortunately procured some lucrative employment in a government survey of salt-marshes in the neighbourhood. But no sooner had he got together a little money in this way, than he began anew his search after the enamel.

Having failed both with his own and with the potter's furnaces, he resolved to try another plan, and

accordingly carried his earthen fragments to the furnace connected with a glass-house. Here the fire, being much hotter, produced its effect, and the next day, when Palissy drew out his trial-pieces, he found that some of his compounds had begun to melt.

Cheered by this his first encouragement, he worked on for two years more without success, but not without hope.

Distress and want once more called upon him to desist; but he determined to make a last trial, and if that failed, to abandon the search and devote himself henceforth to the zealous prosecution of his early trade. The batch of trial-pieces was larger than ever. Three hundred different mixtures were now submitted to the furnace, and Palissy stood by to watch the issue of his final endeavour. "God willed," he writes, in describing the event, "that when I had begun to lose my courage, and was gone for the last time to a glass-furnace having a man with me carrying more than three hundred kinds of trial-pieces, there was one among those pieces which was melted within four hours after it had been placed in the furnace, which trial turned out white and polished in a way that caused me such joy, as made me think I was a new creature; and I thought that from that time I had the full perfection of the white enamel, but I was very far from having what I thought."

Palissy had indeed, after six anxious years, achieved a grand discovery; but this was rather the commencement than the conclusion of his labours. He had not been brought up as a potter; he had no knowledge of clay, had never seen earth baked, or been inside a pottery, before he took his trial-pieces to the furnace. He must start from the very beginning, and gain every fresh step for himself amid failure and disappointment.

For seven months after the discovery of the enamel, he was occupied in moulding vessels of clay. This

done, he proceeded to build a furnace with his own hands, being obliged to carry every brick upon his back from the brickfield, for he was too poor to pay for a cart to carry them to his premises. He was his own mason and his own hodman; but the furnace was built.

The

The vessels which were already prepared were soon coated with the enamel, and he began to heat his furnace. Much fuel was required, for the furnace must be as hot as those used in glass-houses. Wood was scarce and costly, but Palissy did not spare it; for a day and a night he sat by heaping fuel upon the fire. enamel did not melt. His children brought him his scanty meals, for he would not leave his post; another day and night were gone, and the enamel was not melted. Thus passed six days and six nights. Palissy still sat by heaping fuel upon the fire-but the enamel did not melt.

He now believed that there was some defect in his mixture of the enamel. The cups and vases, which had cost him seven months' labour, were spoilt; so he bought fresh drugs and began again to pound and to grind. He covered with the new compound some common earthenware which he bought ready-made, and in three weeks was ready for a fresh experiment. All this time, in the midst of his preparation of the enamel, he had kept up his fire, lest the furnace should cool. The vessels were now put in, but fuel failed, and he had no money to purchase more wood. All depended upon his keeping up his fire. He pulled down the palings of his garden-he broke in pieces his tables and chairs-he even tore up the floors of his rooms, to feed the all-consuming fire. His neighbours cried out that he was a madman; but he persisted, regardless of their clamours, and was rewarded at last by drawing out his vessels from the furnace beautifully covered with white enamel.

He afterwards employed a potter to work under his

directions, and was obliged to pay him in part with some of his clothes. The vessels moulded by the potter were placed in a new furnace which Palissy built with his own hands, better, as he hoped, than the first. The enamel melted beautifully; but, alas! some flints he had used in the mortar were split by the heat, and covered his fine white ware with grit and stone. The work was

ruined, and though some neighbours offered to purchase the disfigured vessels for a small sum, yet he would not, even in the depth of his poverty, let his ware go forth with discredit, but broke them all, and cheerfully set to work again.

Another batch when drawn out was spoilt by ashes from the furnace. He invented a kind of lantern to protect his work, and began afresh.

Feeling that he was now fully master of the secret of enamel-making, he patiently rectified his previous mistakes, and his next batch was sufficiently successful to afford him some remuneration and more encouragement. He was from this time able to proceed steadily with his work; but new difficulties and new trials were still to be overcome, and it was sixteen years from the time when he first saw the Italian cup, before Palissy brought his art to anything like perfection.

He did succeed at last, though to the end of his life he was constantly striving after further improvement. His name became known, and his ware famous, and he was employed by nobles and kings to adorn the most magnificent palaces in the land.

Professing, as he had always done, boldly and faithfully, the principles of the Reformed Church, at a time when French Reformers were subject to the most cruel persecution, his life was saved by his art, when hundreds of every rank fell victims to their faith. It was felt that no one could supply his place, and none dared to harm or molest the Queen's Potter. It is melancholy to add, that in extreme old age he was arrested on account

of his religious opinions, and died in prison more than eighty years old.

He has left behind him a reputation more honourable than that of the princes among whom he lived-a reputation acquired by untiring energy and unflinching perseverance, exercised in subordination to Him to Whose name he gave the praise for his success, and Whom through a long and laborious life he never ceased faithfully to serve and honour!

CHAPTER XVIII.

EYES AND NO EYES; OR, THE ART OF
SEEING.

WELL, Robert, where have you been walking this afternoon? (said Mr. Andrews to one of his pupils at the close of a holiday).

Robert. I have been to Broom Heath, sir, and so round by the Windmill upon Camp Mount, and home through the meadows by the riverside.

Mr. Andrews. Well, that's a pleasant round.

R. I thought it very dull, sir; I scarcely met a single person. I would rather by half have gone along the turnpike road.

Mr. A. Why, if seeing men and horses is your object, you would indeed have been better entertained on the highroad. But did you see William ?

R. We set out together, but he lagged behind in the lane, so I walked on and left him.

Mr. A. That was a pity; he would have been company for you.

R. Oh, he is so tedious! He is always stopping to look to this thing and that! I would rather walk alone. I daresay he is not home yet.

Mr. A. Here he comes. Well, William, where have you been?