"Well, the potters don't put any sand in their clay as a general thing, and never but a very little: the sand made it leak. You didn't make earthen: you made brick. And they take great pains to work their clay. I think it is very likely there were sticks and grass-roots in yours, and it was raw, and not worked enough; and that made it crack and blow. If you had worked it as much as your mother does her dough, not put in any sand, and baked it harder, it would have done better."
"Uncle Seth, I love to make things in clay, and I'm going to try to make a bean-pot for my mother. You won't tell anybody, Uncle Seth. Will you?"
"No, indeed, and I'm real glad you are going to try. It's a great deal better to spend your time in trying to make something useful than to be fooling or doing mischief."
"You know everybody likes Harry 'cause he's brave, kills Indians and bears, and can foller a trail. Ain't I brave?"
"Yes, you're brave."
"Folks like Harry 'cause he can do so much work,—make tubs, pails, baskets, and drums. You and Mr. Israel like to have him with you, and let him have your tubs, and mother, she says he's the best boy ever a mother had, may the Lord bless him!
"I want to make things too; 'cause I love to, and 'cause I haven't got Tony to play with me any more, and 'cause I don't want everybody to say I'm a plague above ground, and a real vexation: that's what Mrs. Mugford said."
"That's right, my lad: if you do that you'll be a great benefit, and everybody will love you. How did you make your bowls and platters the other day? What did you have to make 'em by?"
"We made 'em in the ground."