Quality

The bootmaker. The narrator knew Mr Gessler from boyhood. He and his elder brother made boots in a small shop in London, only to order, and they always fitted perfectly. To the boy, making such boots seemed wonderful; Gessler called it an art.

Too good to sell well. His boots lasted so long that customers rarely needed new ones. He chose beautiful leather himself, and worked slowly and alone.

The bitter moment. Once the narrator came in wearing boots from a big firm. Gessler said quietly that they were not his boots, and for the only time he spoke bitterly: the big firms take the work by advertising, not by good work, and every year he had less.

The end. Years passed. His elder brother died; Gessler grew old, thin and tired, yet his boots were better than ever. The narrator ordered many pairs. When he went to thank him, the shop had a new owner: Gessler had died of 'slow starvation'. He had spent everything on rent and leather, never advertised, and let no one else touch his boots.

**The link with The Pot Maker.** Like Arenla's few rupees, Gessler's story shows how a fine handmade craft can lose out to quick, mass-produced goods.