Probably there has never been a more skilled potter than Josiah Wedgewood. There have been other skilful men, but they have almost always copied one from another. He followed out his own ideas. When a boy, walking several miles to and from school each day over the wide moorland, he had noticed the exquisite tints of the wild flowers. When he became a potter he copied out those same flowers in his marvellous designs. He did not copy the works of other men; he followed as his ideal the things which God had made. He was by far the most original potter that the world has ever seen. His business became one of the great industries of England and he and Sarah built an ideal village called Etruria, where they lived with their daughter Susannah, who became the mother of the famous scientist, Charles Darwin. And so it was that the crippled boy, who left school at nine, and for long years was hardly ever a day without violent pain, became the greatest potter the world has ever known. CHAPTER III. THE DUTCH BOY WHO BECAME A GREAT EDITOR. When the ocean liner, _The Queen_, docked at New York on September 20, 1870, she discharged among her passengers a Dutch family named Bok. Mr. Bok, the father, had once been in fairly good circumstances, but unwise investments had left him quite poor, so he and his wife decided to leave Holland, and with their two boys, William and Edward, start over again in the United States. The younger boy, Edward, was not quite seven years of age. Within a few days of landing he and his brother were sent to a public school in Brooklyn. It seemed a hard beginning, for neither of the boys knew one word of English. They did not know what the other boys were talking about, nor could they make themselves understood. In their helplessness they did not have the sympathy of each other's company for they were graded according to age, and so were parted during school hours. As soon as school was dismissed the boys were each the centre of a group of tormentors, who seemed to enjoy teasing the little fellows who could neither speak, nor understand, a word of English. Edward was nick-named "Dutchy" and there was scarcely any form of cruelty which the other boys did not inflict upon him. One day Edward was goaded into fury and turned on the ringleader among his tormentors. Much to the surprise of the big bully, and to the boys, Edward gave him a sound thrashing, and from that day on, he had the respect, at least, of his schoolmates. He learned the language quickly, and although he spoke with a Dutch accent, he adapted himself to the ways of the new country and gained confidence.