As I was growing older every day, and wished to solve this Anglo-Chinese problem for the benefit of a bewildered brain, I rambled farther afield, and at last discovered a dish marked “S,” this being the mark of the Salopian works which were early in the market with this remarkable design. When I found another dish marked “S,” I exchanged two of my mongrels for it, and I repeated this bargain when I found a third. I use the word “bargain” from the shopkeepers’ point of view, as they would by my generous treatment receive double from their sale than they had previously expected. One of them told me I was too good-natured ever to be well off, and I think he was a man of keen perception of character, but it is disconcerting if a bank-book can be revealed by the face, or by the old Burberry worn on the back. Having a trio of the genuine article, each one “bought” at different places, on comparing I found the pictures identical, although the blue varied slightly, and so I recommend the reader, if he is interested in this grave question, to study [Plate XXXVII].
My cue is to look at the wagtails or love birds, and if the one on the off side is a cock and carries his wings perpendicularly, or if she is a hen and, after looping the loop, has also acquired the same wing position, which appears to be just the right one for billing and cooing, then it is about time for the collector to turn-er-over and see if there is anything more fascinating than a love story on the back of the piece.
To make myself doubly clear, and to remove any possible doubt whatsoever, I give an illustration of another Willow Pattern dish which has no mark, and is, to my mind, worth half a dozen of the “S” specimen as an antique, for it must be fifty years older, is a better shape, and a nicer blue. I obtained a pair of these from an auctioneer, one being broken in two, and whether I gave him three shillings for the whole one or for the whole lot I am uncertain, and so I cannot make up my pottery account, for I am unable to say the exact number of pieces I have bought. I rather think he sold me the whole one, and gave me the two halves; he certainly did not knock down the lot, or both the dishes would have been broken. With some stuff that is guaranteed to stick everything, on two occasions I joined the two halves, but each time they fell apart a while after. As the third time is like no other my reward for perseverance was that they held together until I nearly got the dish on the shelf, when half fell on the floor, broke in many pieces, and I dropped the other on the top of them in disgust. I suppose those uneasy birds started carrying-on, and the cement did not have a proper chance to set.
I shall now have to photograph No. 2, and I must see those cuckoos maintain their present positions.
“Birdie, come here a minute and help me take a photo. You keep an eye on that off-side budgeregar, and see he doesn’t budge, while I put a W.P. plate in the slide.”
“Hurry up, dad—they’re gliding.”
“A’hem! they’ve shifted—so like a bird to move; it’s a snapshot anyway.”
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, but when they are in the air, and you haven’t got your gun,—well, there you are. Talk about Willow Pattern—but those flighty birds are no pattern.
I once collected a pair of love-birds in London, and fetched them home. I thought they would do well in the nursery to teach the young idea how to love. One day Mr. Lovebird got loose and flew about the room until at last he found a perch out of reach in a hook in the ceiling from which was suspended a swing. The hook was kept well greased, and what with friction and dust he could not have found a handier place for disguising himself as a blackbird. To get him down the nurse hit upon the brilliant idea of dipping a stick in treacle, and poking about with this to entice him down, with the result that he got treacled as well as vaselined. At length he was caught, and put under the bathroom tap by my better half, who was rewarded by having his beak through the best half of her thumb. When I came home to lunch, on learning what had happened, I flew to the nursery, and then I saw something that looked akin to “L” on one end of the perch, looking very down in the feather, while Mrs. L. was at the other end. I enquired, “Lovey, why don’t you get on with your loving.” When swallowing a tear he answered, “She won’t let me, cos I’m sticky.” I said, “Oh, that’s foolish; if you love one another you should stick together whatever happens.”
I gave them to a local bird dealer eventually, and the last I saw of them they were playing about with some rabbits. This man came up to cure a Plymouth Rock rooster which I thought had the gout; he wrung its neck, and that is what I would like to do with those wriggling skylarks which have caused me all this trouble.