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1. The Spring, - she is a blessed thing!

She is mother of the flowers !
She is the mate of birds and bees,
The partner of their revelries,

Our star of hope through wintry hours. 2. The merry children, when they see

Her coming, by the budding thorn,
They leap upon the cottage floor,
They shout beside the cottage door

And run to meet her, night and morn. 3. They are soonest with her in the woods,

Peeping the withered leaves among,
To find the earliest fragrant thing
That dares from the cold earth to spring,

Or catch the earliest wild bird's song. 4. The little brooks run on in light,

As if they had a chase of mirth;
The skies are blue, the air is warm;
Our very hearts have caught the charm

That sheds a beauty o'er the earth. 5. The aged man is in the field,

The maiden ’mong her garden flowers ;
The sons of sorrow and distress
Are wandering in forgetfulness
Of wants that fret and care that lowers.

6. She comes with more than present good,

With joys to store for future years ;
From which, in striving crowds apart,
The bowed in spirit, bruised in heart,
May glean up hope with grateful tears.

7. Up! let us to the fields away,

And breathe the fresh and balmy air;
The bird is building in the tree,
The flower has opened to the bee,
And health and love and peace are there.




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1. The motives which are most commonly urged for cherishing supreme affection towards God are drawn from our frailty and weakness, and from our need of more than human succor in the trials of life and in the pains of death. But religion has a still higher claim. It answers to the deepest want of human nature.

2. We refer to our want of some being or beings to whom we may give our hearts ; whom

love than ourselves; for whom we may live and be ready to die; and whose character responds to that idea of perfection which, however dim and undefined, is an essential element of every human soul.

3. We can not be happy beyond our love. At the same time, love may prove our chief woe, if bestowed unwisely, disproportionately, and on unworthy objects ; if confined to beings of imperfect virtue, with whose feelings we can not always innocently sympathize; whose interests we can not always righteously promote; who narrow us to themselves, instead of breathing universal charity; who are frail, mutable, exposed to suffering, pain and death!

4. To secure a growing happiness and a spotless virtue, we need for the heart a being worthy of its whole treasure of love; to whom we may consecrate our whole existence; in approaching whom we enter an atmosphere of purity and brightness; in sympathizing with whom we cherish only noble sentiments; in devoting ourselves to whom we espouse great and enduring interests; in whose character we find the spring of an ever enlarging philanthropy; and by attachment to whom all our other attachments are hallowed, protected, and supplied with tender and sublime consolation under bereavements and blighted hope. Such a being is God.



1. The only difference between paper and the rags of which it is made is in form and appearance, the material being the same. The very pages from which you are now reading, at some former time, may have formed a part of your clothing. After the rags for making paper are collected they are examined, and every thing likely to injure the machinery or paper, such as buttons and pins, is thrown out. At the same time the rags are assorted, the different qualities being used for different kinds of paper.

2. When the assorting has been completed the rags are cut into small pieces and placed in a revolving cylinder of wire-cloth, in order to free them from dust and dirt. Having been made as clean as possible by this process, the rags are next placed in a lime bleach, and then in a washing engine, after which they are placed in chests or vats, where they remain some days. They are then taken to the bleaching-room and subjected to the action of chlorine, or. chloride of lime. This destroys the color and leaves the rags perfectly white.

3. They are next taken to the grinding mill and ground in water. This process entirely changes their form, and reduces them to pulp. It is now a mass of semi-liquid matter, perfectly white and about the consistency of thick cream. Although the material has been subjected to so many operations, the original fibers, reduced of course to a short lint, are still distinguishable. The pulp is now ready to be made into paper.

4. The cylinder paper machine consists of a square box about three feet deep, and of an equal width. In the top of this open box, and extending into it two-thirds of its diameter, is suspended the cylinder, which revolves upon its axis. The surface of this cylinder is covered with very fine copper or brass wire-cloth, forming a sieve. The cylinder is open at both ends, but these revolve against the box so as to be water-tight. Openings are made in the sides of the box opposite each of these ends to allow the water from the inside of the cylinder to pass off.

5. This box or vat is filled with the pulp, mixed with water, so that it becomes very thin and resembles milk and water. Were the wire-covered cylinder to remain at rest in this substance, the surface would soon become loaded with pulp, and thus prevent the water from passing through it; but it is made to revolve, and the fine fibers, which adhere to its surface, are removed by a long belt of woolen cloth, which is brought in contact with the upper surface of the cylinder.

6. This belt takes off a continuous sheet of the pulp, and passes between two press rollers, which expel the water. The wet sheet now leaves the cloth and

passes over an iron cylinder heated by steam, on which the paper is dried. From this position it passes to reels, and is next cut into sheets by machinery.

7. Thus the cylinder which revolves in the vat is cleared of its pulp, and becomes constantly ready to


take on more. That part which is immersed in the pulp-water takes on the pulp, which is removed by the belt on the top, so that the sheet is continuous.

8. Some paper mills run a week or more, day and night, without breaking the paper, which is often man. ufactured at the rate of fifteen or twenty yards in a min

a ute. From the time the pulp is taken upon the cylinder in the vat, it is formed, pressed, dried, and cut into sheets in less than half a minute.

9. The thickness of the paper is determined by the size of the stream of pulp that runs steadily into the vat in which the sieve-covered cylinder revolves. If a sheet of printing or writing paper be held up to the light, it will show the marks of the wire-cloth on the cylinder.

10. Another machine, called the “Fourdrinier machine," from the name of its inventor, consists of a revolving belt of wire-cloth, of about ten yards in length. The pulp is made to pour on the surface of this in a thin, broad stream. The water passes through the sieve, leaving the pulp upon it.

. 11. This is taken off, as from the other machine, by a belt of wet woolen cloth, called the felt. This belt is made to press on the wire-cloth by passing between it and a cylinder. This pressure causes the pulp to adhere to the belt, on which it is conveyed between the pressrollers, where the water is excluded, after which it is dried and pressed as before. The best machine paper is made on this machine, and it is the one now in general use.

12. Before paper machines were invented, paper was formed by hand on a piece of wire-cloth strained over a frame, like the canvas on which a portrait or landscape is painted. This frame was of the size of a sheet of paper. The sieve was dipped into a vat of pulp, and held level while being raised up gradually.

13. The water passing through the sieve left the sheet of pulp on its surface. This was afterward pressed, dried

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