be inevitably vitrified together by the melting of the glaze in the fire. The saggers, being properly loaded, are now carried to the kiln or "glossoven" for a second firing. The gloss-oven is not so large as the biscuit-oven, nor do the goods remain in it so long, nor is the fire so fierce; all that is wanted being heat enough to fuse the glaze upon the surface. When this is satisfactorily accomplished the fires are slacked, the oven allowed to cool, and the goods drawn forth and removed in baskets to the glossed warehouse, where they undergo a rigid examination, and some little necessary dressing with steel implements, to remove any trifling projections of the glaze occasioned by the use of the small spurs and stilts. The separate pieces are now sounded, and, the defective ones being rejected, are ready for sale.

In the above description of the potter's operations, so far as it goes, we have had reference to earthenware articles alone; but the reader will naturally be expecting some observations on the subject of porcelain or china wares, for which a few words, however, will suffice. Theoretically there is a considerable difference in the materials which compose the substance of china, from those used for earthenware; in practice, however, the chief difference seems to consist in the addition of a large per-centage of calcined and ground bones to the earthenware material, in some manufactories amounting to as much as nearly, if not quite, half of the entire substance. The bones are used thus largely for the sake of the phosphoric acid they contain, the effect of which is to render the aluminous and silicious earths with which they are combined translucent. The glaze for china should be harder than that used for earthenware, but its application and the mode of firing differ in nothing from the modes above described. Though it is undoubtedly true that the finest and most beautiful wares produced in the potteries are made of china, it by no means follows that all china wares are necessarily superior to earthenware of good quality. Some of the first-class potters produce a species of earthenware which is as much superior to the rough, ill-shaped china wares of the cheap makers as good silver is to base coin. It is with the productions of the potter as it is with those of the artist; if people will have Raphaels and Corregios at seven and sixpence a piece, they can be manufactured at a corresponding cost; and if people will set a china tea-service on their tables at a cost of a few shillings, the makers are to be found who will minister to their pride and their economy in the same contract, and get a profit out of it too.

We must glance now at the ornamental and artistic departments of the potter's art. As a general rule, both the artist and the modeller may be said to work upon the finest material, porcelain or china forming usually the body of the wares and the substance of the figures which the one adorns and the other moulds. This rule is however not universal, as specimens of earthenware are to be found, at Etruria at least, and perhaps in other places, as rich in ornamentation as are the choicest specimens in china. We have already seen women and girls at work painting in colours upon the biscuit, previous to glazing; and we have seen that they are limited in choice of tints,

in consequence of the trying ordeal their work undergoes after it leaves their hands. There are no such limits, however, affecting the artist who paints upon the glaze; he can spread a rich palette and make use of colours of the greatest brilliancy, and he may produce pictures upon any subject in any branch of art in which he may happen to excel. He has one great disadvantage to contend with, but he soon becomes familiarized with it, and probably is hardly aware of it after the practice of years: we allude, of course, to the fact that he has to paint in disguised colours, which only manifest their real hues when they come out of the fire. In this establishment we find a group of artists in an upper room by themselves, quietly pursuing their fascinating art. Flower-pieces, landscapes, sporting-pieces, fruit-pieces, are gradually growing into form and brilliancy under their hands. Rich and elaborate designs, fanciful ornaments, arabesque patterns, and heraldic or civic blazonries displayed in minute interlacings of scarlet and gold-such are some of the glittering evidences of their taste and industry which greet the eye at every turn. The colours used, which look rather dull upon the palette, here represented by a square Dutch tile, are one and all prepared from metallic oxides, and they are ground up on the premises with certain fusible transparent materials suited for the several colours of which they are made the vehicle, and which, melting in the kiln, actually become so many coloured glasses incorporated with the body of the ware. A great deal of gold is used for ornamental purposes, and this is applied to china in the state of an amalgam with a metallic flux, ground fine with turpentine; it is mostly prepared in London for the potter's use. When the artist has finished his picture, it has to be placed in the enamel-kiln, where the flux used as the vehicle of the colours vitrifies, and the tints assume their proper hues and brilliancy: this, however, is not the case with the gold, which still retains a dull brownish hue, and has to be bur nished by hand before the finishing is complete. On entering the burnishing-room our ears are assailed by a rapid clattering noise, such as might be made by a score or two of pairs of castanets all in exercise at once: this proceeds from the enthu siastic operations of the polishers, a band of a dozen or two young women each armed with a blood-stone burnisher, and all rattling away to gether upon such parts of the surfaces of a variety of costly wares of every description as are ornamented with gold. The process they perform ap pears to be the last which the wares undergr after which they are ready to be packed for consignment to the retail trader, or for removal to the show-room.

Besides the printing, the biscuit-painting, and the enamel-painting, there is a style of ornamentation which has lately sprung up, and which, being susceptible of indefinite improvement, and at the same time not necessarily expensive, bids fair to become exceedingly popular. We allude to the practice, of which we saw many successful speci mens in the various show-rooms of the first-class potters, of transferring engraved landscapes and views in the same way as the common printed pat terns are transferred, and afterwards colouring them artistically with enamel colours upon the

glaze. There is no reason why engravings of the first excellence should not be thus transferred and coloured; and it appears to us more than probable that a manufacturer, who should bring taste and judgment along with a little spare capital to bear upon this comparatively new branch of the art, would succeed in creating a demand for articles which might be rendered eminently beautiful and supplied at no very extravagant cost.

Passing from one imitative art to another, we are next introduced to the makers of the exquisite statuettes in porcelain, or, as it is here called, parian ware, and to which we have already alluded. The mode of manufacturing these charming figures is as follows: the separate parts of the figure are cast in separate moulds by pouring in the fluid slip, and allowing it to remain in the mould until the plaster of paris, of which the mould is formed, has absorbed a certain quantity of the water; the remaining liquid is then poured or drawn off, leaving that portion of the composition from which the moisture has been absorbed adhering in the form of a hollow cast to the inside of the mould. This is allowed to harden for a certain time, and is then released from the matrix. For a single figure, it may happen that as many as twelve or fifteen moulds are required; and some of the groups of two or three figures, we were informed, are cast in the first instance in as many as fifty different pieces. The putting the pieces together, so as to preserve the most perfect proportion, is of course the difficult part of the business; heads, arms, trunks, legs, hands, feet, lumps of drapery, military boots and naked toes, etc., etc., lie jumbled together before the workman, who gradually builds up from them the perfect statue, or the seulptured group, to the semblance almost of life. The several parts are cemented together with the fluid material in the state of a thin paste, and the numerous joinings are so artfully filled up, and so perfectly surfaced, as to defy the most scrutinizing examination to detect them. There are many difficulties to contend with, however, in perfecting these figures. The material of which they are formed is of such a nature as to shrink in the firing, to which it must be subjected to such a degree that it comes out of the furnace threefourths only of the size of the original model. It happens moreover that, until burnt, the ware is not sufficiently strong to retain the form into which it is sometimes cast; thus Apollo with his outstretched arm must have a support beneath it, or the limb would bend downwards with the weight of the material: some figures and some groups especially require numerons supports, and these must necessarily be all made of the same substance, in order that they may shrink as the statue shrinks in the fire; otherwise the result would be some intolerable absurdity or deformity, rendering it of no value. It is fortunate that the shrinking of this fine composition is always uniform in every part, and that the minutest points of resemblance, even in a small bust, are never injured by it. Perhaps there is no invention of the present era which has done more to popularize the love and appreciation of fine art than that which has given us the parian statuettes. It has multiplied innumerable copies of the classic productions of both native and foreign sculptors, and has made the

people better acquainted with what constitutes excellence, by setting before them examples of it which constrain the admiration even of the most rigid connoisseur.

On leaving the manufactory, having witnessed the gradual progress of the ware from the native clay up to the costly equipage from which a monarch might be pleased to dine, we are led into the show-rooms, where we are made aware of the extent of the potter's resources, and the numberless purposes to which his art is applied in the present day. He not only employs the services of the artist and supplements those of the sculptor, but he supersedes the labours of the marble-mason, and enables his patrons in some degree to dispense with those of the cabinet-maker. He casts slabs of porcelain or earthenware whiter than alabaster, and adorns them with wreaths and bouquets of flowers on which the butterflies rest and the dewdrops glisten; and these are to blossom by the winter fire-sides of the wealthy, in place of the veined marble of Italy or the home-dug porphyry of Cornwall. He paints sunny landscapes upon panels of porcelain for the virtuoso's cabinet or the lady's boudoir. He vies with the jeweller in the costliness of his dessert services, and excels him altogether in appropriateness of design. He has perfect confidence in the virtues of clay, and fashions it into any form he chooses, from a child's drinking-cup not worth a penny to my lord's inkstand worth twenty guineas, or a pair of vases cheap at a hundred. He will make you a goblet no thicker than a bank note, the weight of which shall hardly turn the scale, or a bouncing pickle-pot: in short, he does what he likes with it, always supposing that he makes a profit out of it.

Thus much for a glance at the operations of the potter. Were we to chronicle the results of our visits to other establishments, we should in the main be going again over the same ground, such differences as exist in the modes of manufacture at different potteries being scarcely perceptible by a casual visitor, and of no interest, if they were, to the general reader. The stranger who perambulates the large factories and the splendid showrooms of the district will come to the conclusion, that though some of them affect and excel in peculiar branches of manufacture more than others, yet the modes of production are necessarily similar, and that having witnessed them once he need not recur to them. At Ridgway's, delightfully situated on a rising ground upon the skirts of Shelton, he will find that particular attention has been bestowed upon the sanitary branch of the art, and he may witness some admirable, simple, and effective contrivances adapted for the preservation of domestic cleanliness and atmospheric purity in dwellings. Here, too, he may chance to see in operation a machine for making conserve and toilet-pots, for which a prodigious and increasing demand has arisen within these few years; and in the showroom he may perhaps imbibe the conviction, that though the specimens of art in painting on china are neither so large nor so numerous as he has seen elsewhere, some of them are executed with a vigour and at the same time with a delicacy and feeling rarely if at all equalled in other places. At

Etruria he will be struck with the extraordinary perfection of finish, even in the commonest articles there produced, with the general chasteness of design and harmony of colour that characterizes the whole the absence of gaudy hues and tawdry contrasts, and the judicious use of gold in combination with mixed tints, evidencing the influence of a true taste in the management. He will mark the marvellous marble-like surface of the specimens of finished earthenware, and the elegant equipages composed of that material, the sharp impression it brings from the mould, and the rigid integrity of form which every article retains in spite of the fiery ordeal of the kilns. He will not fail, either, to admire the exquisite jasper wares in body of purest blue, overlaid with floral designs modelled in a material pure as snow, and delicate and transparent as the finest cameos. At Alcocks-hill Pottery, at Burslem, he may, if he have time, spend hours in the long galleries filled with triumphs of the potter's art in all their endless variety, from the most elaborate modellings which, being wrought by hand, must have taken months to execute one specimen of which is a bird of paradise, finished in every film-like feather to the perfection of life-down to the commonest domestic wares. He will doubtless find other distinguishing excellences among other potters, but we must decline attending him further on his journey, being compelled to return to Stoke, where we must devote an hour to the tile-works of Messrs. Minton, which present some very remarkable subjects for observation.

It may be in the recollection of our readers that the Messrs. Minton carried off the council medal, in consequence of the artistic merit of their great dessert service, which attracted universal notice at the Great Exhibition. They have two large establishments at Stoke, and they have carried out the practice of the potter's art with the greatest success in all its branches. Their imitations of ancient vases are unrivalled in beauty of design: their parian figures, of which they manufacture large quantities, are not to be surpassed either as to purity of material or quality of workmanship; while, in all the decorative branches of the business, they have obtained a character for high mechanical skill combined with excellent taste. They have further succeeded in the making of hard porcelain vessels for chemical purposes, for which the chemists of this country were formerly indebted to the manufacturers of Germany; their crucibles are found to be equal in all respects to these of Dresden, and have the advantage of being much cheaper. It is in the manufacture of tiles, however, for mosaic pavements and inlaid floorings, and for the walls or courts of public edifices, that they stand almost alone and altogether unrivalled. The demand for these naturally arose with the revival (in many respects to be regretted) of medieval art in this country, and the attention of architects and designers was directed to the means of producing them in accordance with principles of sound taste. They are of various sorts: some of a single colour, such as black, buff, or red, and some with ornamental designs of various colours; some are reproductions of the antique, and others from devices by Pugin, Wyatt, and other artists. They are of all sizes, from those

near a foot square to those not a quarter of an inch; and of various polygonal shapes, from octagons to triangular sections of a square. They are applicable to numerous building and decorative purposes; any pattern, however intricate and elabo rate, may be wrought with them in mosaic; and being hard almost as flint, they are likely to endure as long as the building in which they are laid down. On entering Stoke from the railway sta tion, the first thing upon which the traveller sets his foot is a handsome sample of this mosaic tile-work, the gift of the Messrs. Minton; which serves to remind him that he ought to witness the process of their manufacture before he leaves.

The tile-works of the Messrs. Minton are in the same street with the pottery of alderman Copeland, and but a few minutes walk from it. We shall describe, as briefly as possible, their mode of manufacture as we happened to witness it, being obliged, however, from want of space, to condense it. The clay, after having been carefully prepared, is dried in pans only to the consistency of glaziers' putty. While yet soft, it is impressed in moulds fixed in small hand-presses, which imprint the design or pattern in intaglio upon the surface of the tile. In order to form the different colours, the colouring matter is ground up with some fusible material to the consistence of thickish cream, and the tints required are poured in a fluid state into the hollows which a die has depressed for their reception. The moist tiles are then removed to a chamber heated with flues to a temperature of eighty or ninety degrees, where they dry gradually; and while they yet retain a certain amount of moisture, being in about the same condition as earthenware in the hands of the turner, their surfaces are scraped perfectly level, and they are dressed to shape with the greatest care and precision. After this, when sufficiently dried, they are placed in saggers, piled in prodigious quantities in the kiln, and fired at a high degree of heat for a period of eighty or ninety hours. When taken from the kiln, the colours are fast and unchangeable, and the tiles, hard as flint, are ready for use. Looking to the im mense number of dies necessary to complete the pattern of a single floor, where that is formed of one design, a small and trifling portion of which can only be impressed on each tile, the expense of getting a manufactory of this description into working order must be something terrific. We saw a flooring thus designed, no three pieces of which appeared to be perfectly alike, laid out on the floor of the warehouse ready to be packed, and thought it would be difficult to conceive anything more beautifully appropriate to the purpose for which it was designed. The most chaste application of tile-work, however, in Stoke, and perhaps in England, is a lofty staircase opening into the magnificent show-rooms of the Messrs. Minton. The walls are a complete mosaic of sober greenish grey, figured with a half-invisible pattern, which agree ably breaks without disturbing that quiet and retiring hue which forms the best back-ground for the human figure.

We must now bid farewell to the Potteries; thanking all parties for the courtesy which we experienced in the course of our inquiries.

POMPEII.

TIME carries on many trades: it is a builder and dilapidator, a varnisher and a corroder; it sometimes heaps rubbish and sometimes removes it; it is by turns an engraver, a painter, a reporter, a refiner; it digs new graves and acts as a resurrectionist upon old ones. Some of its doings in the last department are very characteristic of modern discovery, and illustrate the apparent paradox, that history is often better understood by us than it was by those who lived nearer to the events themselves. What a tale is told by modern museums of Egypt, Babylon, Nineveh, Athens, Herculaneum, and Pompeii! To the exhumations which have taken place in the last-named cities, we owe nearly all the information we possess respecting the domestic manners of ancient Rome; more, indeed, than could have been derived from the vestiges of the Eternal City itself. By electric agency, the east now begins to speak to the west; but by volcanic agency, antiquity has here spoken to posterity.

Pompeii, we need hardly tell our readers, is the name of an ancient town of Campania, distant about thirteen miles from Naples, and situated at the base of Vesuvius. Though the name of Pompeii occurs occasionally in the Roman annals, it did not possess any splendid historical celebrity; but, in consequence of a quarrel with the neighbouring city of Nuceria, it is reported to have fallen under the displeasure of Nero, and to have been interdicted by his command from celebrating theatrical games during the period of ten years. It suffered severely from earthquakes in the years A.D. 63 and 64, and fifteen years afterwards was entirely overwhelmed by an eruption of Vesuviusthe first catastrophe of that kind known to have occurred. Herculaneum and its neighbouring city of Pompeii were by that event simultaneously destroyed; the former by the melted lava which poured upon it from the volcano, the latter by showers of cinders and ashes which accompanied the eruption. The nature of the visitation allowed most of the inhabitants time to escape and even to remove their most precious property, though their dwellings were altogether buried by the rain of ashes.

During sixteen centuries Pompeii remained hidden from the eye of man. Grass, corn, and vineyards flourished above the prostrate city, till, in the year 1689, the attention of the neighbouring inhabitants was first called to the relics of buildings protruding themselves through the soil. It was not, however, before 1755 that any considerable excavations were made. The process of exhumation was then begun, and it has since been carried on, though unequally and at irregular periods, till about a fourth of the ancient city has become visible; laying open to the eyes of a wondering posterity traces of ancient habitudes untouched by time; revealing the very finger-marks of distant ages; and exhibiting, in the most perfect state of preservation, an embalmed mummy of a Roman city, which may be regarded as now partially unswathed.

Most travellers in Italy are familiar with the deep indentation of coast in which Naples is situated, and have regarded with unbounded admira. tion a scene said to be unrivalled throughout the world. Lying between the two promontories of Misenum and Sorrento, each of which is flanked with islands seeming greatly to prolong their projection-possessing a soil of almost inconceivable richness, presenting a quick succession of natural curiosities, and associated with the most precious memories of past history-the bay of Naples has no parallel to the varied interest it excites. From some vine-clad ridge of Vesuvius the eye can range over the tideless waters of the blue Mediterranean, sparkling with the life of a summer's day and dotted with white and distant sails; whilst, as it wanders along the shore, it fixes successively on Cuma, the fabled home of the ancient Sybil on the

TEMPLE OF ISIS.

singularly bold promontory of Misenum and its beautiful contiguous islands-on Puteoli, lying back in the bay of Baix, and which once formed a week's resting-place of the apostle Paul in his voyage towards Rome-on the city of Naples itself, presenting towards the sea a mass of lofty buildings in the shape of a double crescent, and associated with the memory of Belisarius and of the crusades-and, immediately beneath the feet, on Portici, the site of the ancient Herculaneum; whilst wandering farther on, it rests upon the white buildings which mark the place of Pompeii, now distant from the sea, but once upon the shore of an encircling bay; and further still upon the somewhat level but volcanic promontory of Sorrento, terminated by the bold and picturesque island of Capræa, the scene of the pleasures and too frequently of the vices of Roman emperors. When we remember that the scene we