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and prepared for use. Bank note, and much of the fine letter-paper, is still made in this way. IIand-made paper may be known by marks, or parallel lines, l'uning in one direction, caused by the wires of which the sieve is made. 14. The principal difference between the kind of
paper commonly used in printing, the manufacture of which bias been described, and that used for writing is, that the latter, after it comes from the machine, is sized, by being dipped into a preparation of thin glue, which prevents the ink from spreading when written upon.
15. After this it is again pressed and dried. The hard, smooth surface upon writing paper, as well as upon the best paper used in printing, is made by pressing it between heavy iron cylinders, running so closely together as to subject it to an enormous pressure. This process is called calendering.
16. The finest kind of letter-paper is made of selected linen rags of the best quality. Much of the paper of a bluish color in common use is made of inferior material, rags that can not be rendered perfectly white, and which if not colored would appear clouded and dirty.
17. Paper on which bank notes are printed is made of new linen cloth. Blotting paper is made without being sized or much pressed. Brown paper, and such kinds as are used for wrapping, are made of a variety of materials, as canvas, sack-cloth, rope, and some of straw and grass.
1. We come! we come! and ye feel our might,
As we're hastening on in our boundless flight;
And over the mountains, and over the deep, : Our broad, invisible pinions sweep
Like the spirit of Liberty, wild and free,
look on our works, and own 'tis we; Ye call us the winds; but can ye tell
Whither we go, or where we dwell?
And fell the forests, or fan the flower,
ye say it is we; but can ye trace
Or come in a soft and balmy sigh,
1. Our dwelling is in the Almighty's hand;
We come and we go at His command.
HANNAH F. GOULD.
Never let honest convictions be laughed down. He who is true to himself will not only be respected by the world, but will have the constant company of an approving conscience, which is far better.
LXXII.-A CURTAIN LECTURE OF MRS.
1. Balı! that's the third umbrella gone since Christ
What were you to do! Why, let him go home in the rain, to be sure. I'm very certain there was nothing about him that could spoil. Take cold, indeed! He doesn't look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he'd have better taken cold than taken our unibrella.
2. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, do you lear the rain? And, as I'm alive, if it isn't St. Swithin's day! Do you hear it against the windows? Nonsense:
! you don't impose upon me; you can't be asleep with such a shower as that! Do you hear it, I say? O, you do hear it!
3. Well, that's a pretty flood, I think, to last for six weeks; and no stirring all the time out of the house. Pooh! don't think me a fool, Mr. Caudle; don't insult ine; he return the umbrella! Any body would think you were born yesterday. As if any body ever did return an umbrella! There, do you hear it? Worse and worse. Cats and dogs, and for six weeks — always six weeks; and no umbrella !
4. I should like to know how the children are to go to school to-morrow. They shan't go through such weather, I am deterinined. No; they shall stop at home and never learn any thing (the blessed creatures !), sooner than go and get wet! And when they grow up, I wonder who they'll have to thank for knowing nothing : who, indeed, but their father. People who can't feel for their own children ought never to be fathers. 5. But I know why you lent the umbrella : 0 yes,
I know very well! I was going out to tea at dear mother's to-inorrow. You knew that, and you did it on purpose. Don't tell me; you hate me to go there, and take every mean advantage to hinder me. But don't you think it,
, Mr. Caudle; no, sir; if it comes down in buckets full, I'll go all the more.
No; and I won't have a cab. Where do you think the money's to come from?
6. You've got nice high notions at that club of yours ! A cab, indeed! Cost me sixteen pence, at least. Sixteen pence! — two and eightpence, for there's back again. Cabs, indeed! I should like to know who's to pay for 'em ; for I'm sure you can't, if you go on as you do, throwing away your property and beggaring your children, buying umbrellas ! 7. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, ,
you hear it? But I don't care I'll go to mother's to-morrow - I will; and what's more I'll walk every step of the way; and you know that will give me my death. . Don't call me a foolish woman; it's you that's the foolish
8. You know I can't wear clogs; and with no umbrella the wet's sure to give me a cold - it always does.
. But what do you care for that? Nothing at all. I may be laid up for what you care, as I dare say I shall; and a
; pretty doctor's bill there'll be. I hope there will. It will teach you to lend
to lend your umbrellas again. I shouldn't wonder if I caught my death : yes, and that's what you lent the umbrella for. Of course!
9. Nice clothes I get, too, traipsing through weather like this. My gown and bonnet will be spoiled, quite. Needn't I wear 'em then? Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear 'em. No, sir ; I'm not going out a dowdy to please you or any body else. Gracious knows! it isn't often that I step over the threshold - indeed, I might as well
, be a slave at once - better, I should say. But when I do
I go out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to go as a lady. O, that rain ! if it isn't enough to break in the windows.
10. Ugh! I look forward with dread for tomorrow.
How I am to go to mother's I'm sure I can't tell ; but if I die, I'll do it. No, sir : I won't borrow an umbrella : no; and you shan't buy one. Mr. Caudle, if you bring home another umbrella, I'll throw it into the street.
11. Ha! And it was only last week I had a new nozzle put to that umbrella. I'm sure if I'd have known as much as I do now, it might have gone without one. Paying for new nozzles for other people to laugh at you ! O, it's all very well for you; you can go to sleep. You've no thought of your poor, patient wife, and your own dear children; you think of nothing but lending umbrellas.
12. Men, indeed! call themselves lords of the creation ! - pretty lords, when they can't even take care of an umbrella! I know that walk to-morrow will be the death of me, but that's what you want; then you may go to your club, and do as you like; and then nicely my poor dear children will be used; but then, sir, then you'll be happy. O, don't tell me! I know you will, else you'd never have lent the umbrella.
13. You have to go on Thursday about that summons; and, of course, you can't go. No, indeed :
don't without the umbrella. You may lose the debt for what I care -- it won't be so much as spoiling your clothes ; people deserve to lose debts who lend umbrellas !
14. And I should like to know how I'm to go to mother's without the umbrella. O, don't tell me that I said I would go; that's nothing to do with it — nothing at all. She'll think I'm neglecting her; and the little money we're to have, we shan't have at all : because we've no umbrella.
15. The children, too! (dear things !) they'll be sopping wet; for they shan't stay at home; they shan't lose their learning; it's all their father will leave them, I'm
But they shall go to school. Don't tell me they