The Story of Porcelain | Page 9

you that at Naples there is a collection of two thousand
Greek cups and vases. The Vatican at Rome has one thousand more;
Florence has seven hundred; Turin five hundred; Vienna three hundred;
Berlin about seventeen hundred; the Louvre at Paris fifteen hundred;
and the British Museum nearly twenty-six hundred. Besides these there
are some twenty thousand more scattered all over the world in private
collections."
A whistle of surprise escaped Theo.
"Not all of these are equally good, however," went on Mr. Croyden.
"The Etruscan work done by wandering Greek potters and by some
persons rated as identical with the Roman Samian ware, is one of the
finest varieties remaining to us; probably because it escaped being
buried with the dead and therefore was not injured or discolored by the
soil as were so many of the Greek vases found at Athens. Moreover, we
must remember that not every artist who made and decorated an object
excelled. Naturally some did more perfect work than others, even in the

days of the best Grecian art. How sad it is that at a later period in
history the work of the Greeks became less fine because the ideals of
the race degenerated. Pottery makers, sculptors, and builders began to
produce cheap, gaudy things which were lavishly decorated, and
reflected the luxury and extravagance that had crept into the nation.
From that moment the glory of Greece decayed. For it is the ideals of a
country and its people that serve as guide-posts to the greatest and
finest deeds. Unless each individual in a land aims at the purest and
best his country will never reach holiness. It is the struggle for
perfection in every field of life that results in fine art, fine men, and
fine nations."
Mr. Croyden had become very grave.
Then he rose abruptly, took out his pipe, and knocked the bowl of it
upon a stump.
"Well, well," he exclaimed with a swift return to his accustomed gaiety,
"I think I have lectured long enough. See! Manuel has everything
packed up and is waiting for us. Suppose we start back home."
But Theo was very quiet on the trip back to the camp.
He was thinking about the Greeks.

[Illustration]
CHAPTER III
THEO MEETS WITH A CALAMITY
It was when Theo had been three days in camp that the accident
happened.
Outside the cook-house stood a ladder to be used in case of fire, and as
one morning the boy passed it, it suddenly came to him what fun it
would be to mount to the ridge-pole of the cabin and toss a handful of

tiny pebbles down on the heads of the guides as they passed through
the door beneath. What a surprise it would be to Tony and Franz to
have the stones come clattering down upon them; and what sport it
would be to watch them as they tried to solve the riddle as to where the
missiles came from!
It was a foolish scheme, and probably had Theo thought it over a
second time he would have abandoned it; but he was an impulsive boy
who often acted before he carefully considered what he was doing.
Therefore without a moment's hesitation he cautiously dragged the
ladder to the end of the cabin and, making sure that no one was looking,
began climbing it. He was on the top rung and was just stepping softly
to the roof when there was a snapping of rotten wood and the bar
beneath his foot gave way, sending him crashing headlong to the
ground.
Fortunately for Theo the cabin was a low one, and he had not far to fall;
but in trying to save himself he twisted one leg beneath him, and the
result was most disastrous. He felt a sudden sharp pain as he struck the
earth, and when a second later he attempted to rise he discovered to his
chagrin that it was impossible for him to do so. Every movement he
made hurt him excruciatingly, and presently feeling both faint and
dizzy he abandoned further effort.
For an interval he lay very still, ashamed to call for help; then
pocketing his pride he began to yell lustily. His cries brought Franz and
Manuel from the kitchen, Mr. Croyden from his cabin, and Dr. Swift
from his room. Luckily it was just noontime and every one was indoors
awaiting lunch.
Of what followed Theo had only a vague idea. He remembered that his
father and Mr. Croyden raised him in their arms, and that in spite of
their gentleness he had cried with pain at their touch. Then he had been
put on his bed where his father proceeded to examine the injured leg.
Every motion the Doctor made caused the boy intense agony.
Afterward