o much has been written in song and story.

"The very oddest plates in your collection are those two large
earthenware dishes, especially that large circular dish, with sloping
sides and flat base, decorated with tulips."

[Illustration: SGRAFFITO PLATE Manufactured by One of the Oldest
Pennsylvania German Potterers in 1786]

"Yes, Mary, and it is the one I value most highly. It is called
sgraffito ware. A tulip decoration surrounds a large red star in the
centre of the plate. This belonged to my mother, who said it came from
the Headman pottery at Rockhill Township, about the year 1808. I know
of only two others in existence at the present time; one is in a
museum in the city of Philadelphia and the other one is in the Bucks
County Historical Society at Doylestown, Pa. The other earthenware
plate you admire, containing marginal inscription in German which when
translated is 'This plate is made of earth, when it breaks the potter
laughs,' is the very oldest in my collection, the date on it, you see,
is 1786. Those curved, shallow earthenware pie plates, or 'Poi
Schissel,' as they are frequently called in this part of Bucks County,
I value, even if they are quite plain and without decoration, as they
were always used by my mother when baking pies, and I never thought
pies baked in any other shaped dish tasted equally as good as hers.
These pie plates were manufactured at one of the old potteries near
her home. All the old potters have passed away, and the buildings have
crumbled to the ground. Years ago, your mother and I, when visiting
the old farm where the earlier years of our childhood were passed,
stopped with one of our old-time friends, who lived directly opposite
the old Herstine pottery, which was then in a very dilapidated
condition; it had formerly been operated by Cornelius Herstine (we
always called him 'Neal' Herstine)."

[Illustration: OLD PLATES FOUND IN AUNT SARAH'S CORNER CUPBOARD]

"Together we crossed the road, forced our way through tangled vines
and underbrush, and, peering through windows guiltless of glass, we
saw partly-finished work of the old potters crumbling on the ground.
The sight was a sad one. We realized the hand of time had crumbled to
dust both the potter and his clay. Still nearer my old home was the
McEntee pottery. From earliest childhood our families were friends. We
all attended the 'Crossroads' School, where years later a more modern
brick structure was built, under the hill