THE thoughtful wanderer in the old world, gaining 
_ freshness and vigor for the stress and speed of the 
new, naturally avoids cities and journeys peacefully along 
‘country roads, staying for the night in some wayside inn 
or mountain monastery. 
Gradually, as the workings of his mind adjust them- 
selves to the conditions of the life with which he comes 
in contact, he begins to notice the manner of being afar 
from clanging of cars, flash of arc lights and the never 
ceasing murmur of pent up human life. The very industries 
seem like quiet streams, along which the voyagers paddle 
with little effort, resting frequently while the boat drifts, 
to gaze at a smokeless sky or listen to singing birds. 
To the writer most charming of crafts is that of the 
‘peasant potter, whose individual touch proclaims his 
country, wherever his piece is found and gifts it, however 
fragile in itself, with an imperishable picture of its maker 
and his home. 
__-_-—«*That two-handled water jar, for instance, on the 
-newel post, does it not speak of a little kiln in the crags 
of Capri? (Does it not recall the sturdy peasant with 
_ quiet eyes and firm hands? Can you not almost see, 
_ mirrored in its surface, the sparkling Mediterranean 
_ bearing on its glancing waves the castelled crags with 
- colors of the orient against a sky whose tint the potter 
_ has vainly tried to borrow ? 
7 That funny little vase covered with what appear to 
_ be rain drops of glaze, speaks of a smooth haired womaa 
in neat print gown, sitting placidly beside a window with 
~ outlook across fields so gay with crimson tipped daisies 
that it seems as though white snow from the distant 
Aips, still rosy with the after-glow had drifted in clouds 
across the level meadows. 
What else could those fire tiles with their perfectly 
geometrical designs speak of than a canal with high 
bridges and great, slow-moving barges, thereon blue 
gowned Dutch fraus perform various domestic duties 
quite’ in the open. 
In his low-timbered cot under the far-reaching 
branches of mighty firs in a little village of the Black 
Forestia German potter lovingly formed, glazed and fired 
with his own hands that huge brown plate bordered with 
white edelweiss. 
at tall, turquois jar yonder with its cloud of 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE and Reminder ; 
A Manchester Craft-Shop 
fieecy wild carrot nodding in the western wind, that too 
kas for me a distinct picture of charming, brown-eyed 
girls in long, white aprons, each with a tiower on her 
work table, each with a happy look on her face, each 
with a belief that the Paul Revere Pottery is to speak 
through its wares of an old world charm, quite possible 
to preserve, in spite of the deafening roar of a progress 
regardless of who is crushed beneath its wheels; a charm 
which speaks of a different progress that allows the 
worker time to breathe the scent ot the rose as he works, 
freedom to speak to his fellow craftsman without fear of 
cheating his employer of the price of his servitude and 
finally, which gives the piece at which he works a right 
to say for itself "we derive all the values in us from the 
fact that our makers wrought at us with zeal, with in- 
tegrity, with faith to do nobly an honest thing.” 
This pottery which takes its name from the fact that 
it had its beginning under the shadow of the Old North 
Church where Paul Revere hung his famous lanterns in 
1775, was started seven years ago as its little circular 
states “to give interesting, stimulating, pleasant and pro- 
fitable work to girls connected with the Saturday Evening 
club of the North End of Boston.” It has been financed 
from the beginning by Mrs. James J. Storrow, to 
the end that an industry may be established whici 
shall give its workers a chance to live fully and 
completely while their days’ work is going on, 
as well as in those evening hours usually known 
as free; in short, an industry which shall liberate rather 
than enslave its workers; which shall develop rather than 
stunt a love and appreciation of beauty; which  sha'l 
teach a worker that his craft is not his master, but that 
he is master of his craft. 
Those who, like the writer, love the charm of hand- 
work intelligently and lovingly wrought cannot pass the 
little Manchester cottage with its green and white sign 
“S. E. G. Bowl Shop” without stopping to greet the 
young pottery worker in charge, who has for the present 
laid aside the tools of her craft to introduce the ware to 
those who would experience the feeling called forth by 
original, individual examples of craftsmanship; a feeling 
so frequently appealed to in the old word, so seldom in 
the new. 
—THE PASSER-BY. 
AMONG the latest discoveries of science is what Wil- 
liams calls the “radiant push,” the physical pressure 
which light actually exerts upon all objects with which it 
comes in contact. That it does so act is finally demon- 
strated by the radiometer, an instrument so delicate as 9 
register the physical force of the ray from a candle a third 
of a mile distant, or the reflected light from a human face. 
A famous Swedish physicist has even gone to the 
extent of estimating the exact size of a particle of matter 
that may be swept before the light waves as objects are 
carried onward before waves of water. 
Since every material object from the sun to the atom 
is continually giving off radiations, either direct or 
reflected, this new descovery gives science an entirely new 
outlook upon Creation, for it shows an almost infinite sys- 
tem of repulsions, which no doubt have much to do with 
the continuous changes going on in the universe. 
Arrhenius believes that this radiation pressure accounts 
for the sun’s corona and the aurora borealis, insisting that 
the latter is electrified particles driven by light waves from 
the sun to the earth in defiance of gravitation. 
Prof. Campbell believes that the nebulae consist of 
minute bits of matter swept out into space on the crest 
of the light waves. There is by no means a general con- 
currence in these views among scientific men; but the 
physical push of the light wave is everywhere recognized 
as a demonstrated fact. 
As for the past two seasons, the boulevard in front 
of the Midway attractions at Revere beach is closed to 
motor and all vehicular traffic on Sundays and holidays. 
Although this is not entirely pleasing to autoists, the park 
commission considers it necessary to eliminate the acci- 
dents which have been quite numerous in the past. It 
seems too bad, however, that something can’t be done 
toward improving the “back road” at Revere, That 
road is a disgrace to a civilized community. 
