Sitting in a cool green shade of trees and flowers, in the still heat
of a summer afternoon, I read in your most interesting paper, dear Mr.
Editor, a record of noble women who, from the slippery places of wealth
and ease, had sprung a mine of happiness in lightening the burdens, and
in sympathies for the sorrows, of many who had no helper.
I read and enthusiastically admired, and while admiring tried to
appreciate the difficulty which women so placed would find in realising
sufferings of which they could know so little by experience–of some
troubles they could absolutely know nothing–the want of bread, the
deadly fatigue of overwork, the misery of children crying for food, the
bitterness of bare poverty, of homes which do not shelter, of empty
fireplaces in cold, and shadowless rooms in the heat–and in such heat
as we have been taught lately can be suffered even in this dear England
In the intense heat of the day–while the roses drooped and seemed to
sigh for rain, and the birds were silent, and by the shaded pool, at
the dark water’s edge, the cows were enjoying some freshness, and the
white flocks of waterfowl cowered and waited for the evening breeze–in
the stillness my thoughts floated away to curious visions, partly
suggested by a lovely series of pictures in the _Arabian Nights_ of
magical help and daring exploits, and one, the last (not in any English
edition), of a range of mountain caverns, with glittering temptations,
through which the prince has to fight his way till he comes to the
last vast hall shrouded in darkness and ended by dim heavy curtains,
which opened, disclosing the radiant islands in the seven seas, where
his love reigns, and the water-nymphs receive him as he leaps into the
waves and, singing, bear him to his queen, to rescue and love her.
Visions are curious and arbitrary things, and while dreaming of this
often haunting story, I thought that, instead of the gigantic fiend
who in the story waves his scimitar over the lover, I saw two radiant
angels parting those magic curtains as I in my dream gazed, and they
said to me–
“You have loved and revered the courage and self-devotion of the noble
servants of the Most High, who have abandoned the luxuries and repose
of wealth to save their fellow mortals–the poor, the helpless, and the
suffering. Would you know what more can be done?
“There are records in the kingdom of our Master of fellow-servants of
ours–women, with no power but their faith, no means but those like the
feast for five thousand provided by their Lord by the Galilean lake
from a few loaves and small fishes, no strength but the divine energy
of love–these servants of God, poor, weak, alone, have done work which
has caused joy in Heaven and saved those who, but for them and others
like them, would have been lost. Will you dream on, and we will show
you visions of some of these?”
In breathless expectation I waited, and gradually the vision resolved
itself before me into a wild mountainous country. A castle up the hills
was besieged by a horde of savage and furious soldiery. Defence was
hopeless, but the few loyal retainers held their own till the three
little orphan children of the lord were hurried out of the back postern
by their nurse and one (the only) trooper who could be spared to drive
the mule on which the two little leddies were seated and to carry the
Heaven helped them and they safely reached the hut where, concealed
and protected by Elspeth the nurse, they escaped the search of their
enemies. By day and night this devoted servant worked for them, tended
them. To feed them she starved, to clothe them she managed to get by
night and hidden mountain paths to the few nobles still left on whom
she could rely with the words “My young leddies need this,” “My little
lord needs that.”
Years go by, and the brave old Scotchwoman has fulfilled her trust. The
young lord has regained his inheritance, and now they all plead that
she to whom they owe everything should accompany them to the noble home
she has so helped them to regain. But I see her, in advancing years,
still spinning on in the Highland home. At all times of need, whether
of joy or woe, they call for Elspeth, and she is with them again; but
she died as she lived, in the poor home of her fathers, but up-borne
by the prayers and the reverence of her people. “Poor, yet making many
It was in vain the young lord and her leddies claimed her for their
richer life of competence and power, but the old Hieland woman said,
“Na, na.” She would go to them when on great occasions they wanted her,
but her strong independent life was still to be lived among the hills
she loved and among her own people; and by the work of her own hands
she would still live, and in her hut she would die.
The dream curtains slowly descended, but my last look at the beautiful
Highland scene was on the cottage on which the sunshine of Heaven’s
blessing still lingered, and on the noble peasant woman who had saved
her chieftain’s children.
I might be allowed to mention that, remembering this touching story of
fidelity and loyalty as it was told me by the Earl himself years ago, I
have searched through many volumes of the history of this great family
for further details of the time and place, but in vain, so I must leave
the little history as I heard it from the chief’s own lips.
In writing of servants, an anecdote of Lord Shaftesbury, mentioned in a
recent work–_Collections and Recollections_–is worth remembering.
“Speaking of his early and troubled childhood, he said, one only
element of joy he recognised in looking back to those dark days, and
that was the devotion of an old maid-servant, who comforted him in his
childish sorrows and taught him the rudiments of the Christian faith.
In all the struggles and distresses of boyhood and manhood, he used the
words of prayer which he had learned from the good woman before he was
seven years old. And of a keepsake which she left him–the gold watch
which he wore to the last day of his life–he used to say, ‘That was
given to me by the best friend I ever had in the world.’”
In olden days the ingle-nook was the centre of the home. Built in a
deep recess of the wall, with its copper or brazen cupola, it had
benches fitted into its chimney corner on each side. Here, after a
day’s work was done, assembled the mistress with her distaff, maidens
with their lovers, sons with their netting, and the father with his
book. Here chat and song and sacred lore flowed freely and fast. On its
wide breast lay large logs of hazel and oak, beechen boughs and green
ashwood. Bit by bit as they smouldered away fresh limbs were added,
keeping up a crimson glow on the wide hearth.
Nowadays, in mine house slow combustion grates and stoves reign
supreme. By their use much of the picturesqueness of our fires is done
away with, but a wonderful economy in the coal-bill effected. This
is not the case, however, if our particular Mary Jane be allowed to
make and mend at her own sweet will. The “Eagle Range” is quite as
omnivorous as its namesake if cook keeps every damper out and every
cross-door shut. Unless she cleans each flue scrupulously, the “Eagle”
and its ilk will only consume lumps of best Orrell–and consume them
much faster than an open fireplace would do.
In mine house the first lesson taught a new maid is how to lay and
light a fire. Scientifically done, it takes far less kindling wood
and far fewer matches than when built up at haphazard. There are two
methods of laying a fire. A range or stove must burn from the bottom
upwards; the open grate may be ignited on the top.
We will consider our drawing-room fire first. See that every bit of
ancient fire is raked away and every cinder riddled on the spot through
a 6d. wire-shovel. The meshes of this instrument are wide apart, so
only the large cinders are retained by its use; all small morsels
and dust fall through without raising a “pother,” and may be sifted
afterwards. Now fit a sheet of brown paper across the lower bars and
lay over it some lumps of clean round coal. On the top of these empty
your cinders, and over them again place wood and bits of crumpled paper
in the order named. One match applied to this topmost layer will ignite
the tissue, and very slowly it will burn downwards until the Orrell be
This glowing mass must on no account be poked. In fact, if this mode of
lighting our sitting-room fires be adopted, sets of fire-irons should
be conspicuous by their absence. A very distinct saving is effected
by this; first we are spared initial cost of purchase, and afterwards
constant extravagant use of the poker is avoided.
Some folk seem to think that flames alone give heat. Now, as a matter
of fact, it is the glowing mass which most quickly warms a room. Others
talk of “the cheerful blaze.” In mine house we esteem the red heart
far more beautiful. As a matter of fact, in mine house, which boasts
of ten grates, only two pokers are _en evidence_. Yet last winter our
next door neighbour–who burned double the quantity of coal–complained
she could not get her parlour to register 60°, whilst my sitting-room
pumped up to and maintained 70° without any difficulty.
There are two ways of minimising the consumption of coal in our
modern grates–either get a firebrick to fill up the back thereof and
burn only a frontage of bottled sunshine, or leave it as the builder
intended and after drawing every bit of round coal to the front bars
and seen them well alight, pack the cavity behind with a bucket of
well-damped “slack” or coal-dust. This mass will gradually heat and
ignite all through and throw out a heat never attained by the ordinary
The very best Orrell slack is like small coal, and costs only from 6d.
to 8d. a sack as against £1 1s. a ton for bright coal. A fire made up
after this economical plan will burn from morning till night without
attention. Then, breaking up the solid cake, a bright cheerful result
is gained for the hours of twilight and night. Such a fire, too, is
invaluable in a sick room–requiring no noisy repairing when sleep
ought to reign.
In mine house the kitchen range is scientifically treated also and
consumes every bit of refuse.
I allow neither ashpit, pigbucket, or dustbin at the back door. Such
extravagant conveniences should never be tolerated where economy in
fuel is an object. Even if we have no poultry or porcine animal to
devour potato peels, vegetable parings, or scraps of meat, our kitchen
range can have its omnivorous mouth filled daily with such. Of course
every house mother knows that when cooking is being done, a clear good
fire is necessary.
Mary Jane may during those halcyon hours pile on the best coal and be
allowed liberally to “rake” it with a heavy poker, otherwise she will
send up flabby pastry, raw potatoes, and half-cooked beef. But directly
the midday meal be over, every scrap of green stuff, cabbage stalks,
every bone–fish or flesh–is laid on the glowing embers of the range
in mine house. A layer of wet coal-dust is added, the iron rings are
put in place, the door is shut, and all dampers are pulled out. Thus,
_sans odeur_, those atoms of waste food are consumed which, left to lie
on an ashpit, would infallibly breed fever of all sorts.
When, at six o’clock, another meal is required, the range is opened,
lungs perforated through its crust, some knots of coal allowed, and a
liberal use of the “curate” recommended.
For toasting or ironing purposes we utilise a heap of clean cinders
which has gradually been accumulating in a corner of the yard. The dews
of heaven have kept these damp, and the raindrops have cleaned them
before we shovel them on to the fire. Ram them into the grate, and thus
provide the best (because most smokeless) fuel for laundry work. Our
flat irons, heated by these cinders, are not smoke begrimed or sooty,
but keep bright and smooth all the year round.
In the ingle-nook of mine house open fireplaces are, in two rooms,
replaced by American stoves. One of them stands about two and a half
feet high and cost only 15s. It juts well out in the study–close to
the writing-table–and keeps my toes and fingers warm and comfortable
at a minimum cost of fuel. An iron arm elbows its way up the closed
chimney, and a sheet of zinc nailed over the ordinary grate gives a
good draught. The fire-space in this stove is very tiny–a handful of
shavings and a spoonful of coal makes it light up cheerfully, and a
little damp slack keeps it at furnace heat for hours.
This wee warming-stove has saved its cost over and over again, and is
so easily lit up that I manage to have the comfort of a fire long
before my house-maidens have quitted the beautiful land of nod. All
undue dryness of the atmosphere is counteracted by keeping a pipkin
of water steaming on its face, and it is so clean that even the most
delicate curtains are not soiled by its use.
The value of having a smutless, smokeless, dustless fire can never be
over-estimated in this uncertain climate. Even many evenings in July
or August call for a small fire, and the easiness of lighting this
stove in the ingle-nook of mine house prevents such a necessity (as I
consider it) being considered a luxury.
I do not think I need speak of the virtues of gas as a heating agent.
We all recognise the desirability of its use; but, alas! where economy
has to be considered in our ingle-nooks, we cannot recommend it. In
place of coal gas is desirable; but in addition to coal it is fearfully
expensive. In mine house–when dog-days protest against any artificial
heat–we use paraffin.
Rippingill has invented and patented so many excellent elaborate
cooking-stoves that it is easy to do without our kitchen range. At
the cost of about four farthings a dinner consisting of half a leg of
mutton, boiled potatoes, peas, cauliflower, and a rice pudding can be
cooked to perfection. Even after these are done the ovens will be still
hot enough to bake a cake for afternoon tea or some pastry for supper.
The equable temperature maintained by an adjustable flame enables me
to “rise” all kinds of fancy bread in my “A.B.C.” stove splendidly,
and for making jam it is invaluable. No longer do I dread the annual
eruption of stones of ripe raspberries or the arrival of hairy, sweet
gooseberries by the gallon. The winter supply of jam in mine house is
made without burnt brows or scalded fingers over the little Rippingill
that stands in the store-room.
“But don’t the stoves smell fearfully?” is a question often asked. I
answer truthfully that they are absolutely odourless when properly
attended to. Loose particles of charred wick cause a loss of proper
ventilation; drops of oil spilt outside the reservoir, clogged burners,
all prevent proper combustion and produce a bad effluvia.
I find that constant supervision is necessary when we use oil in mine
house. Then only are the wicks well rubbed, then only are scissors
tabooed, then only fags and edges flame not, then only doth economy
wait on comfort in my ingle-nook. It requires skilled fingers to keep
chimneys clear enough to read by. A drop of ammonia added to the water
in which they are washed helps towards this crystalline condition. Then
“Our wasted oil unprofitably burns
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns,”
but sheds round a clear shining light.
Perhaps a word or two about kindling may not be out of place
in considering this subject of economy in our ingle-nooks. Our
grandmother’s axiom was–
“A fire well mended
Is a fire well tended.”
But I think the making of a fire is even more important than its
mending or tending. To give our maids inadequate lighting material is
very false economy. Well dried, well chopped, well seasoned faggots are
a necessity in mine house.
“Ash green” may be “fire-wood fit for a queen,” but it makes bad
kindling. Bundles of small sticks may be bought so cheaply nowadays
that we should never be without them. Unlike Hamlet, we need not “for
the day be confined to fast in fires” if we provide these and a few
medicated wheels for hasty work.
On the other hand Mary Jane must be impressed with the fact that
twelve bundles represent twenty-four fires at the least. Half a dozen
sticks laid lightly in a basket-fashion will do the same work as a
whole handful lumped on together. “Waste not, want not,” is a motto
much to be observed in this matter.
It is a good thing to have a regular weekly supply sent in, regulated
by the number of fires in general use. For extra ones, half a dozen
medicated wheels should be kept in the store press, and only given out
when one is unexpectedly called for.
I cannot quit this subject of the ingle-nook in mine house without
speaking a little about the summer ornamentation thereof. As I hinted
before, I personally consider the best ornament of our fire-stoves
to be a fire, even in August–or, at least, the makings of a fire if
In my best room we lift out the leaded bars and replace them with
bright brass ones, filling in the space with faggots and coal and
fircones. The glistening rods do not prevent our having an occasional
blaze, for a rub with “Globe” polish soon polishes them after use. We
do not lift away the pierced brass curb or dogs, but amongst and behind
them a few pots of ferns are stood about. They do not mind the draught
up the chimney (N.B.–No register is ever drawn down in mine house),
and can be judiciously damped as they stand on the tiled hearth. A
second suffices to shift these when a fire is called for.
I think easy removal is the primary rule in decoration of our
ingle-nook. Thus, heavy, dust-collecting curtains should never be
attached to the mantelpiece; much less may art muslin draperies
be tolerated. I have seen them in some houses with all their
suggestiveness of downright tragedy veiled by flimsy unreality. One
spark, one splutter, one fizz, and flames would lick them up like
paper. A hammered brass and iron screen–a sheet of looking-glass–if
you must hide the settee. On the other hand, a fir or larch bough, with
its red-brown stem and crimson tassels, may be laid across the set
fire, and one has decoration enough.
Nothing can be beautiful in our ingle-nook which conveys a false notion
of the purpose to which it will be applied. Decorative art requires
that the nature of construction should as far as possible be revealed
or indicated by the ornament which it bears.
“The beauty of fitness” must be borne in mind when we are tempted to
fill the fire-baskets in our ingle-nooks with tinsel and shavings,
paper designs or artificial flowers. In the huge chimney space of an
ancient fireplace logs of wood carelessly piled on dogs was a fit and
appropriate decoration. So a well laid fire is, after all, to end
with as well as to begin with the best ornament we can stand in the
Perhaps no object in mine house speaks of higher things in a louder
voice than does the fire in its ingle-nook. Scenes of terror and
beauty in the Bible often surround a hearth and a flame. The burning
bush which hid Jehovah; the flashing fire enfolding itself (Ezek. i.)
displayed Him; a furnace lit up the first covenant (Gen. xv. 17), and
so on through the whole book.
In one of the Significant Rooms of the Interpreter’s House a fire
burned all the year round upon which rival forces poured oil and
water–a picture this of God’s grace overcoming the evil one.
And so we weave round the most sacred spot in our homes a fabric of
thought and poetry and prayer–
“Where glowing embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.”
A little cricket still chirps of love and help and warmth and all that
makes life lovely.
The Salopian Porcelain Works were founded by Thomas Turner, of Caughley
Place, who had been employed in the Worcester factory, and becoming
manager of the pottery works at Caughley, near Broseley, in 1772. To
him are attributed the famous “willow pattern,” the “Nankin” and the
“blue dragon,” and the production of the beautiful and distinguishing
dark blue colour; Thomas Minton, of Stoke, assisted in the completion
of the “Nankin,” being an articled engraver at Caughley. Of Turner
the Messrs. John Rose bought the factory in 1799, and in 1814-15 it
was broken up. This was a grievous loss, as the porcelain produced
there was remarkable for the brilliancy of its glaze, the fineness of
its substance, and the beauty of its blue colour. The name “Salopian”
indicates its origin, but several other marks of very elaborate
designs were employed, being a series of Arabic numerals, as here
given, although some slight varieties are noticeable in the different
John Rose, an apprentice of Thomas Turner, of Caughley, Salop, was
also the founder of the Coalport and Colebrook Dale, Shropshire,
manufactories, and after a time, having purchased the Caughley plant,
he united the latter with Coalport, Swansea and Nantgarw factories;
the paste of Coalport was a combination, and “felspar porcelain” was
produced. Turner’s “willow” and “blue dragon” designs were again
resuscitated to a great extent, and various sprig patterns, copied from
Chelsea, Dresden and Sèvres porcelain, as well as bearing their marks.
Besides these latter, the names and initial letters of the original
factories are found on the early examples, and the more recent bear the
marks next here following.
The letters “C. B. D.” in monogram, “C. D.” and “C. Dale” stand for
Colebrook Dale, and the Coalport mark is simply its name in writing
hand. There are other marks that cannot be omitted in the series, such
as the name “Salopian” in capitals, in small _roms._; the name “Turner”
in capitals; the letter “S” in blue stands for “Salopian” (an early
mark); the letters “So S” and “Sx.” Also, the crescent surmounting the
name “Salopian,” the former in blue and the latter impressed only. One
other mark may be named, a dot, and an “S” surmounting the crossed
The porcelain manufacture was introduced into the Staffordshire
potteries in 1777 on the purchase of Champion’s patent, obtained by
him from Cookworthy, of Plymouth. The New Hall Works, Shelton, built
by Whitehead, produced hard porcelain, much like that of Bristol. The
blue tea-ware was in hard paste, with the “willow pattern,” and having
Champion’s mark under the glaze, was made in this factory by Turner.
Some seventeen or twenty celebrated manufacturers were connected
with the Shelton China Works at the “New Hall.” One of these was the
celebrated Josiah Spode, who in 1784 took the factory from Banks and
Turner, and was in his turn succeeded by his son, J. Spode, junior.
This latter introduced soft felspar and bones into the Staffordshire
porcelain. Turner junior was followed by Copeland, and Garrett, Thomas
Minton and his son, Herbert. Hard paste was introduced into the
Staffordshire china by the latter. The second Josiah Spode was the
most successful porcelain manufacturer of his time, and the new parish
church at Stoke was mainly built and decorated by him. He contributed
to it the best porcelain, jasper ware, patent stone pottery, and
blue-painted ditto to beautify it.
Mr. William Copeland was his partner, and the exquisite Parian biscuit
china or Parian Carrara was carried to the utmost perfection by him.
The firm of Josiah Spode and William Copeland, and then Copeland and
Garrett, is now known as “Copeland and Sons.”
The Spode china bore the maker’s name, painted or impressed, and
surmounted by a crown and inscribed between the branches. Later on it
bore “Copeland and Garrett,” or two C’s interlaced; also “Saxon Blue”
and “New Blanche.”
The _pâte sur pâte_, or “slip painting,” was brought to great
perfection by M. Solon, the principal artist employed by Messrs.
Minton, as well as Mr. Toft.
Josiah Wedgwood’s nephew, Thomas Brierly, introduced the soft paste
porcelain at Etruria in 1808; but it was not of long existence. The
examples to be seen are decorated with landscapes, birds, and flowers,
and are, for the most part, distinguished with the name “Wedgwood”
The early marks on Minton’s porcelain are the following (the special
mark of Solon Miles being the most ornate)–
Specimens of the earths, clay, stone, sand, etc., were placed in Josiah
Wedgwood’s hands by a Mr. Bradley Blake, a resident at Canton, such as
employed at Nankin for porcelain. And Wedgwood produced very excellent
examples, but he never manufactured this china ware for commerce,
although his nephew, Thomas Brierly, did, in 1808, at Etruria. For
himself he was a potter, and it was for beautiful varieties of this
ware that the famous Flaxman worked designs for him.
The names of Ridgway and Sons, and Heath, Warburton, Clowes, Hollins,
and Daniel, are well known in connection with the New Hall China Works
at Shelton. But during a course of many years and many successions of
proprietorship, there is little space for lists of names in a brief
I may here observe that when the Derby works began to decline,
after 1825, many highly efficient workmen joined the factory at
Stoke-upon-Trent, founded by Turner and rendered illustrious by Spode.
Thus the artistic work of the Staffordshire factory at Stoke was
Up to the year 1798 the Stoke manufactures were chiefly restricted to
white ware decorated with blue, like ordinary Nankin. The factory was
first established in 1790 by Thomas Minton, who had been an apprentice
of Thomas Turner (of Caughley) as an engraver, and had then worked for
Spode; and in 1788 he settled at Stoke.
The next year he took Joseph Poulson into partnership–the late manager
for Spode–and from the year 1793 to 1800 he continued to be a joint
manager and proprietor. He died in 1809, when Thomas Minton carried on
the business alone. Mr. Minton’s second son, Herbert, succeeded him.
John Boyle was his partner for some years, and was succeeded by Daintry
Hollins and Mr. Colin Minton Campbell, his nephews. After his death
they owned the business.
Steele, Bancroft and Handcock were Minton’s most distinguished
painters, and John Simpson was his chief enamel painter of figures and
of all the work of the highest class.
M. Solon-Milès, from Sèvres, began work for him in 1870; and to the
latter we owe the application of _engobe_ (white slip) on celadon
grounds, toned chocolate, grey, and green, which is known as _pâte sur
pâte_–originally a Chinese invention of some centuries old. Solon’s
monogram, or “Solon” or “Miles” are sometimes found on his work. The
other three given were Minton’s early marks. The ermine surmounting his
name has been employed since the year 1851–painted in colours or in
gold or else indented.
Some services were produced in Felspar china, decorated with oriental
flowers and birds. They were distinguished by a scroll in violet,
enclosing a number in red, and below this the mark, “M. & B. Felspar
The factory of Nantgarw was a small one, founded in 1813, by
Billingsley & Walker, at some ten or a dozen miles from Cardiff. The
former had been an apprentice to Duesbury, of Derby, and had had
great experience, having been in partnership with Coke at Pinxton,
then acting as manager at Mansfield, working afterwards at Torksey,
Lincolnshire, then at Bristol, and serving under Flight & Barr at
Worcester, prior to his founding the manufactory at Nantgarw. In 1820,
eight years before the death of Billingsley, John Rose, of Coalport,
purchased the plant, Billingsley and Walker going into his service.
The marks on the Nantgarw porcelain were either in red or impressed,
as illustrated. The paste employed was exceedingly soft and fine
in texture; the vases, with beautiful handles and covers, the table
services and plaques were painted with landscapes, birds, insects,
and flowers. At one time Mortlock (of London) purchased Billingsley’s
porcelain in white and decorated and fired it himself. The extreme
softness and vitreous fracture of the paste identifies it as of
Nantgarw when the mark is lacking. Two other marks of this factory may
be given. The name is in capital letters, either painted in red, or
more usually impressed, and the second is in red. Sometimes the letters
“C.W.” are found impressed underneath the name of the factory, which
is supposed to mean “China Works.” Billingsley is supposed to have
produced an excellent dessert service painted in flowers which is now
the property of Mr. Firbank, M.P.
The Rockingham factory was originally established for earthenware; but
Thomas Brameld introduced the manufacture of the finest description
of porcelain in the year 1820 or 1823, collecting his materials from
Cornwall, Dorset, Sussex, and Kent. His dessert, dinner, and breakfast
sets, and his ornamental pieces and figures, all highly decorated,
were of first-class excellence. The mark usually employed–adopted in
1828–was the Rockingham crest–a Griffin–the Swinton Works being
on the estate of Charles, Marquis of Rockingham, together with an
inscription giving the name of the factory, and of Brameld–himself
a painter on porcelain. The mark was in red. In 1826 they became
embarrassed, no expense having been spared on the manufacture of
the finest work; but they were kept open through the assistance of
Earl Fitzwilliam until 1842. In some examples of the Rockingham china
(preserved in the Scheiber collection) the mark varies to “Royal Rock
Works, Brameld,” and the words “Manufacturers to the King” below the
crest; also the name “Brameld” is sometimes enclosed in an oval design.
Some genuine Rockingham ware is unmarked; some have incised marks such
as “No. 22,” and “No. 31,” also “Brameld,” giving the batons and dots
There is a splendid specimen of this china to be seen in the South
Kensington Museum–a highly decorated vase standing four feet high, and
fired in a single piece, also having three handles, representing gold
oak-branches, and the whole standing on three lions’ paws, a rhinoceros
surmounting the lid or cover. The painter, Isaac Baguley, took over
some part of this factory, Speight, Cordon, and Lucas being amongst the
chief painters employed.
The factory at Belleck, County Fermanagh, Ireland, was established
by Messrs. Armstrong and McBirney in 1856-7, and the porcelain was
produced from the Felspar clays on the estate of J. C. Bloomfield,
Esq. The use of salts of bismuth, resin, and oil of lavender produced
the lustrous glaze for which this ware is remarkable, and the colours
obtained from metallic oxides. So unique is this porcelain that no mark
is required to identify it; but there is one stencilled or painted upon
it in brown, green, or red, and the design is a round tower, a harp,
shamrock, and greyhound–the former three being characteristic emblems
of the country–but I do not know the origin of the latter. Perhaps
it is the crest of the Bloomfields of Fermanagh, on whose estate the
felspar was found.
TROUBLED ONE.–Yours is a complaint which often causes great uneasiness
to girls of your age. It is usually of very little import, and its
greatest harm results, not from the condition itself, but from the
patient’s fixed idea that she is suffering from some serious ailment.
Almost anything can cause it. Indigestion and anæmia are among the most
common causes. You will probably find that carefully treating your
indigestion will cure your trouble. A short course of iron, if your
digestion will stand it, will do you good.
KANOWNA.–Try washing your face with warm water and sulphur soap. A
very little sulphur ointment applied to your face at night-time will
S. D.–1. Yes; vaseline is not a bad preparation for the hair. It is
rather messy, and does not suit some persons’ hair. As regards the
question, “How often should you wash your hair?” it depends a good deal
upon yourself and the condition of your hair. If the hair is quite
healthy, it need not be washed more often than once a month.–2. Simply
a curiosity. It means nothing.
MAVIS.–Read our advice to “Troubled One.” Of course, in a case like
that of your friend, the question of a local cause for her symptoms
must be considered. A course of iron, or of iron with some astringent,
such as aromatic sulphuric acid is often of extreme value when the
annoyance is due to constitutional causes. When taking iron in any
form, constipation must be carefully guarded against.
ANXIOUS TOPSY.–Drinking excessively does cause profuse perspiration.
But profuse perspiration produces excessive thirst; so that it is
difficult to say which is the cause and which the effect. People who
perspire freely should avoid tea and coffee, as these stimulate the
sweat glands. They should wash in warm (not hot) water, and sponge
over those parts which perspire most profusely with toilet vinegar
and water. When the hands and feet are the members chiefly at fault,
a powder consisting of one part of salicylic acid to ninety-nine
parts of powdered silica may be dusted inside the gloves and socks.
When the face perspires more freely than the other parts of the body,
sulphur soap should be used to wash with, or the face may be bathed
occasionally in toilet vinegar and water.
MURIEL.–We see alas! that constant repetition is forced upon us in
this column. One would have thought that every one of our readers had
by this time grasped the chief points in the treatment of chronic
indigestion. But we see that we are mistaken! And that we must repeat
time after time. Well, here is the treatment of indigestion in a
nutshell! We can divide indigestion into three grades of severity.
First, those forms which need merely a few hints about diet; secondly,
those forms in which a considerable amount of care must be taken,
but which do not completely incapacitate the sufferers; and thirdly,
the most serious cases which require great skill on the part of the
physician and the patient to keep the latter from starvation. It is
to those suffering from the second of these grades that the following
remarks are addressed. As regards diet and eating. Take three, four,
or five meals a day; but let them be _small_ meals, and the intervals
between them of nearly equal time. Eat very slowly; masticate properly.
Give twenty bites to each mouthful of solid food. Never eat in a
hurry or bolt your food. Sit down and do nothing for at least half
an hour after each meal. Avoid pastry, cheese, potatoes, the coarser
vegetables, pork, veal, made dishes (except such as are very simple),
liver, kidneys, goose, duck, and sweet puddings. Take white bread in
preference to brown or patent breads, for it is more digestible and
more nutritious. It is preferable to have it toasted. Bread, biscuits,
and any foods containing sugar must be partaken of in moderation. As
regards liquids. Drink little, never more than half-a-pint of fluid at
each meal, and drink it when you have finished eating. Avoid alcohol
in all forms, tea, coffee, and _cocoa_–all of these are indigestible.
Never take soup, beef-tea, or meat essences. Let your chief drinks be
warm milk and aerated waters. Never drink anything very hot or very
cold. Ices are especially to be avoided. In addition look to your
teeth; have any bad teeth which may be present removed. Where you have
lost teeth have false ones put in. Beware of tight lacing. Corsets are
a fertile cause of indigestion, and are one reason why dyspepsia is
so much more common in women than in men. Take a good walk every day.
Guard against constipation from all causes. A little stewed fruit and
plenty of green vegetables will help to relieve this complication.
When intractable, a teaspoonful of liquorice powder or a pill of aloes
and nux vomica may be taken at night. A glassful of hot water taken
the last thing at night is also of value. As regards drugs, the first
necessity is to point out that these are very commonly the cause of
indigestion, and the less that dyspeptics have to do with them the
better they will be. Never have a “bottle of medicine” as a “cure”
for dyspepsia. Indigestion cannot be cured by drugs. Above all, avoid
pepsin, and acids and bitters. The former drug relieves indigestion for
a time, but makes it worse afterwards. It is only when normal digestion
is impossible that pepsin should be used. In nine cases out of ten
acids make indigestion worse; in the tenth case they are unnecessary.
But unfortunately we must occasionally resort to drugs to relieve
indigestion. A tablespoonful of bicarbonate of soda, or a “tabloid”
of sodamint, taken when fulness, or flatulency, or oppression, or
nausea is severe will often give instant relief. The severer grades of
dyspepsia require further treatment, but we are not considering them