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She long ago realized that even if she were to devote full time to her hobby—which she most emphatically does not—she could not possibly meet all the orders which come her way. Nor could she meet all the classes she is asked to teach, nor appear for all the demonstrations she is asked to put on.

"Somewhere along the line," says Mrs. Elliott, "every ceramics hobbyist must decide whether her hobby is going to remain a creative thing or whether she is really going into it commercially. If it's going to be primarily commercial, you go about it in an altogether different way."

Mrs. Elliott has elected to keep hers creative. It still brings her considerable revenue and has a vast untapped potential if and when the day comes that she decides to convert it to a livelihood.

To anyone who is seeking a hobby, Martha Elliott earnestly recommends ceramics. She points out that it is: 1. Economical—"Five pounds of clay and you're off." 2. Potentially vastly profitable. To realize the profits in ceramics, Mrs. Elliott stresses, you need not be artistic, creative nor particularly professional. If you just put the same craftsmanship into your ceramics that you would put into, we'll say a lemon pie, you will find a market for what you make. 3. A hobby in which the whole family can participate. You'll be amazed at what a life saver it can be on a rainy Sunday to set the children to rolling clay "worms" which eventually become before their delighted eyes a jar, a vase, or you name it. 4. A comfortably flexible sort of hobby in which your increasing proficiency and ambition can find an infinity of new avenues. Or it can hold your interest—and offer a profit—at its most elementary level.

The fact that beginning hobbyists so quickly find a market for their creations is somewhat unfortunate in one respect, Mrs. Elliott feels. The temptation is great to remain in the elementary stages, doing over and over the simple, though attractive items that have brought the hobbyist her first sales. She believes that by going on and mastering the more demanding processes of advanced ceramics the hobbyist eventually finds greater rewards in both cash and personal attainment.

The fact remains, however, that a profit can be had on the simple round box, jar or vase whose creation is minutely outlined in subsequent paragraphs. Chances are good that a neighborhood gift shop will be glad to take them on a consignment basis. Churches and women's club bazaars are glad to have ceramics booths, offering these elementary items at prices ranging from $1 to $3.

IF BY now you're moderately sold on ceramics as a hobby, try this simple beginning outlined by Martha Elliott. If you don't like it, nothing's lost but your five pounds of clay. If you do like it and want to try some more, you have Mrs. Elliott's word that a fascinating and rewarding horizon of self expression has just opened before your eyes.

All right. Get the five pounds of clay we keep talking about. You want, of course, the moist clay that hardens, not the plastic kindergarten clay used by children. It's available at most hobby shops.

"Don't buy any ceramic tools until you're sure you like the craft and want to do more with it," cautions Mrs. Elliott. Until you're ready to make a small investment in tools, you'll find the following items will serve you commendably: A hat pin, orange stick, paring knife, rolling pin, a 12-inch square of oil cloth and the lid of a jar (Mrs. Elliott finds the lid of a Skippy peanut butter container about right).

Place a chunk of moist clay about the size of your fist on the oil cloth square. The clay must be in a leathery hard condition.

"You can get it just about right by keeping it wrapped in a moist cloth overnight before you begin work," Mrs. Elliott advises.

Roll out the clay as you would a pie crust—"Better stand or sit on a high stool to do this," says Mrs. Elliott.

Roll to about a quarter-inch thickness. And you may find it easier to place a piece of wax paper over the clay as you roll. This prevents sticking to the roller.

When it's rolled, run the fleshy part of your forefinger gently over the surface—"careful of those long fingernails"—to remove the air pockets.

Now, using the jar lid as you might a cookie cutter, cut out a circle of clay from the center of your rolled clay. Best results are obtained by sliding your hand under the oil cloth square and pushing the clay "cookie" gently upward from the rest.

Put the circle of clay aside with a wet cloth over it.

Now take a hat pin and sever away a small piece from the edge of the rolled clay. Don't worry about the size. We'll adjust for that in a minute.

Roll this piece between your palm and the table surface. The shape you're seeking is a solid wire of clay about the diameter of a fishing worm. If you're a bit uncertain as to the girth of a worm there is no need to go out in the yard and dig one up. You be the judge, and it won't matter if the size varies some. The length, however, may take some fixing.

Loop your clay worm around the edge of the clay cookie. It will be resting on the extreme outer circumference of the cookie, not wrapped around the outside. Catch on? Never mind. It should be clear in a minute.

Now, if the worm is too short to go all around the cookie and have both ends meet, give it added length by rolling more clay into the worm. Or, if too long, you remove enough from the end to make it the desired length.

Fuse the two ends together by watering them lightly with a child's paint brush and molding the ends together with your fingers. Press and mold the worm gently to the round base.

About this time you must decide what it is you're making. A straight up and down round box suitable for cigarettes? Then just make another worm and place it atop the first. Continue building up, worm by worm, always molding each new one gently to the one preceding it, until you have reached the desired height.

Or would you like a vase with gently curving shape?

Then make your second worm slightly larger than the first, and place it not dead on top the first, but toward the outer side of the first one. Repeat this until the vase flares outward as much as desired. Then start building inward by placing worms on the inner circumference of each preceding one.

It becomes apparent here that this elementary process already has endless possible variations. The vase or bowl can be rounded out from the base, then tapered in at the neck. Flared lips are easily achieved by repeating the outer edge placement of the worms and stopping when the desired shape and size are achieved.

Worms must be cemented together by brushing "slip" on top of each before the next is laid. "Slip" is a professional word which means clay—the same clay you're using, but moistened with water to the consistency of paste.

When the desired shape has been created, allow the vase, bowl, jar or what have you to dry for thirty-six hours.

NOW YOU'VE gone about as far as you can with your present equipment. If you're still interested and the piece warrants preserving, find yourself a ceramist with an electric kiln. Some hobby shops have them, or if the ones you try are not thus equipped, they possibly can furnish you with the name of a hobbyist with her own kiln.

It's a pity, Mrs. Elliott agrees, but your own kitchen oven just won't do the job. Few kitchen ranges can produce temperatures over 550 degrees, and your little bowl of worms requires a temperature of 1,900 degrees.

If your interest in ceramics reaches a point where you feel you'd like your own kiln, you will not find it prohibitively expensive. And you'll probably pay for it out of earnings. Mrs. Elliott recommends a kiln 11 inches wide by 11 inches long by six inches high. Such a model, will cost around $59.50, including a pyrometer which measures the degree of heat. With it you can fire a complete dinner service, plus cream and sugar sets and figurines up to six inches tall.

Your worm bowl creation will emerge from one firing as a bone white piece, slightly porous but handsomely suitable to use. If you like you can paint it with water colors and call it quits.

But if you'd like to go a step farther in the ceramics process, get yourself some glaze paint and give it whatever decoration you choose. Then back to the kiln for another firing. This will give the piece the gleam and luster of a really professional job.

IF YOU have come this far, you probably are by now a ceramics hobbyist. You're ready for a second lesson. Most adult education programs offer beginners courses, and private lessons are available at reasonable cost in communities of any size.

But perhaps lessons just aren't available to you. If so, Mrs. Elliott recommends these four books to be read in this order:

1. "Potter's Primer," written and published by Jane Snead, Jenkintown, Pennsylvania.

2. "Fun with Clay," by Joseph Leeming; J. B. Lippincott Co., Philadelphia, publisher.

3. "Practical Ceramics," by Mildred G. Bell; Bell Ceramics, Inc., Montclair, New Jersey, publisher.

4. "The Complete Book of Pottery Making," by John B. Kenny; Greenberg, New York City, publisher.

You'll find as you explore the field that worms are just one of the basic building units in ceramics. Another is slabs which can be fused together, as you did with the worms, to create decorative boxes.

There is the vast, infinitely varied field of pouring to molds, with endless possibilities—complete dinner services, pitchers, vases, bowls, jars, cups, figurines and animals of all descriptions.

There is the costume jewelry field, based on the simple leaf design. (You'd be amazed at how easy it is to make about any flower design you may wish once you're shown.)

You will discover the acutely demanding but equally rewarding field of sgraffito work—the cutting of designs into plates and vases with a sharp etching tool. Don't be alarmed. You needn't do it free hand. Many stencils are available to trace from.

"I am not artistic," says Martha Elliott. "If I can do it anyone can."

This statement is perhaps a trifle exaggerated in its modesty. People who see the lovely Pennsylvania Dutch dinner plates which are something, of a specialty with Martha Elliott find it difficult to believe she is not artistic. These plates she sells for $10 apiece, and the demand for them as wedding and engagement presents is great.

"I use a poured 10-inch plate," she explains. "Instead of using the white slip as I do for most other items, I use a red slip. The red is characteristic of Pennsylvania Dutch plates, since red clay is so common in the Pennsylvania Dutch country around Allentown and Reading.

"I pour the red slip into a 10-inch plate mold, and let it dry to a leathery hardness. On a nice dry day this happens quickly. If the weather is damp it will take longer."

When the plate is removed from the mold and while still in its state of "leathery hardness" it is painted with white engobe. (Engobe, a background color, is bought as a powder and sufficient water then is added to bring about the thickness of light cream.) The plate gets three coats of engobe.

"The first coat is applied horizontally, using a three-quarter-inch brush," continues Mrs. Elliott. "The second coat, applied about a half hour later, is applied in a vertical direction at right angles to the direction in which the first was applied."

The plate is again allowed to dry and then the third coat is applied in the, same direction as the first.

"While the plate is drying I begin transferring the design I have chosen on to tracing paper," Mrs. Elliott says.

Many of Martha Elliott's Pennsylvania plate designs are selected from Jane Griffith's "Pennsylvania Dutch Designs," published by the Jane Griffith Pottery House, Philadelphia.

"Or," Mrs. Elliott says, "sometimes I get original and create my own."

The design is easily transferred from the book page to tracing paper with a fairly hard pencil.

When the plate has dried for an hour after the last coat of engobe, Mrs. Elliott lays the tracing paper on the plate and reproduces the design in pencil on the face.

This requires considerable caution to prevent the pencil strokes from cutting into the still soft plate, yet making it appear bold enough to be retraced.

"That's what takes the time," Mrs. Elliott says.

"Now, with a sgraffito point I start cutting the design into the plate. I cut only deeply enough to remove the white engobe and barely reach the red clay. Then I let it dry for twenty-four hours, following which I bisque fire it to 1,900 degrees. Then I apply a clear glaze with the same brush I used for the engobe. Then I put it back in the kiln and refire it to 1,850. That much will give me a plate in the red and white of the Pennsylvania Dutch tradition.

"When I want some additional colors I remove the white engobe where I am going to put the colors and replace it with three coats in the color desired. I use the same time intervals between coats of color as I did between coats of engobe. Then I give it that first firing to 1,900, then cover with glaze and fire to 1,850."

IT WAS the shortage of costume jewelry brought on by scarce metal allocations in the early days of World War II that got Mrs. Elliott into ceramics.

"I was looking around for a hobby because, for the first time in my life, I was really stuck in the house," she recalls. "I had a new baby who simply slept all the time. Good as gold, but she took naps by the hour, so there I was confined to the house without nearly enough to fill my time. So I looked around for a hobby."

She managed to get out of the house often enough to attend a few adult education courses in ceramics. She began, not with the worm coil method which she recommends for beginners, but with the basic leaf design. Once created, fired, then glaze-fired the leaf easily becomes a pin, clip or earring by cementing suitable clasps to its back. She found that gift shops, desperate to meet the demand for costume jewelry would take all she could make.

She rapidly graduated to pouring liquid clay to molds and found an equally good market for vases and dinner ware.

Today, Mrs. Elliott notes, a new hobby is growing in popularity which is creating a new demand for the products of the ceramist. This is the art of flower arranging, enjoying a crest of interest as a result of television demonstrations.

Flower arrangers often want some specially sized and shaped containers for a particular effect they are seeking. "And who is a more logical supplier of the flower arranging hobbyists than the ceramic hobbyists?" asks Mrs. Elliott.

Last spring she spent all her free moments trying to meet the demand for a vessel whose mold she has copyrighted. Patterned from a medieval chalice cup in the Metropolitan Museum, the finished product is a gracefully austere vase glazed in gunmetal or antique finishes. It is in the acquisition of molds that the hobbyist must decide whether she is to be essentially commercial in her approach to ceramics, or whether she is in it primarily for her own pleasure.

If she is essentially commercial, she will sharply limit her inventory of molds, employing them over and over to get the most use from a minimum investment. If she is in it for pleasure, she will in time acquire many shelves of molds, offering a wide variety of creative outlets.

The primarily commercial hobbyist probably eventually will eliminate the elementary steps by hiring someone to do them.

If, for example, Martha Elliott decided she wanted to derive the fullest income from her hobby, she would concentrate on one item—probably the Pennsylvania Dutch plate—for which there appears a virtually inexhaustible market.

She would then hire someone to do all the steps up to the sgraffito work on the design.

But because it remains a hobby with her, she believes that it takes a variety of items and processes to keep it stimulating instead of a merely repetitive activity.

HOW DOES Mrs. Elliott recommend building a market? Easy. She says: "I gave things away. Lots of things. It's amazing how word travels. I gave a pair of Pennsylvania Dutch plates to a prospective bride once as an engagement present. Then some friends of hers saw them and asked me to make a pair for them to give. Then friends of theirs . . . the thing multiplies itself.

"But there is one thing to remember in this connection: I never gave away a thing because I didn't want it. I gave my best work—things that broke my heart to see going for nothing after all the work I had done. But it brings back orders."

Mrs. Elliott urges also getting things on display. She has a wide acquaintance with gift shop operators, many of whom keep various pieces on a twenty per cent consignment basis.

"But it is more profitable for me to sell individually," she says. The shelves of her basement are filled with an inventory of finished ceramic items. Through classes and demonstrations her work has come to the attention of a vast number of women.

They feel free to call—and to send friends for gift items.

She got into the teaching field by attending an adult education course in ceramics and ended up being asked to teach it the following term, since by the teacher's own admission—Mrs. Elliott knew considerably more than the teacher.

She gets a fee of $35 for a one-hour demonstration at women's clubs and for this she brings a portable kiln so the audience can see a finished or nearly finished item. Such demonstrations nearly always bring a request for lessons for which Mrs. Elliott charges a fee of $15 for six basic lessons.

"In the six lessons the beginner gets enough basic ceramics to proceed on her own," she says.

For advanced lessons embracing such fields as sgraffito and over-glazing she charges $5 a session.

Lessons can provide further revenue since "graduates" from the beginners lessons seldom invest immediately in a kiln. They turn to their former teacher and for a fee of one cent a cubic inch Mrs. Elliott fires their created pieces.