They are then pressed with a large screw press, moved by a long lever, which forcibly squeezes the water out of them, and gives them immediate consistence. There is still, however, a great deal to be done. The felts are taken off, and thrown on one side, and the paper on the other, whence it is dexterously taken up with an instrument in the form of a T, three sheets at a time, and hung on lines to dry. There it hangs for a week or ten days, which likewise further whitens it, and any knots and roughness it may have, are picked off carefully by the women. It is then sized. Size is a kind of glue; and without this preparation the paper would not bear ink; it would run and blot as you see it does on gray paper. The sheets are just dipped into the size and taken out again. The exact degree of sizing is a matter of nicety, which can only be known by experience. They are then hung up again to dry, and when dry taken to the finishing-room, where they are examined anew, pressed in the dry-presses, which gives them their last gloss and smoothness; counted up into quires, made up into reams, and sent to the stationers, from whom we have it, after he has folded it again and cut the edges; some, too, he makes to shine like satin, by glossing it with hot plates. The whole process of paper-making takes about three weeks.

#2

LESSON LXXIX.

ON PRAYER.

I often say my prayers;
But do I ever pray,
Or do the wishes of my heart
Dictate the words I say?

'Tis useless to implore,
Unless I feel my need,—
Unless 'tis from a sense of want,
That all my prayers proceed.

I may as well kneel down,
And worship gods of stone,
As offer to the living God
A prayer of words alone.

For words without the heart,
The Lord will never hear;
Nor will he e'er that child regard,
Whose pray'rs are insincere.

Lord, teach me what I want,

And teach me how to pray;
Nor let me e'er implore thy grace,
Not feeling what I say.

Yet remember, you who read this, you are not to neglect your prayers--because you do not feel inclined to pray: but this little hymn is to show you the wickedness of pretending to pray to the great God, while you are thinking all the time

about something else. Before, then, you begin your prayers, you must ask God to give you his Holy Spirit, that you may not draw nigh to him "with your lips, while your hearts are far from him.”

Never be in a hurry to say your prayers,—but think a little while, before you kneel down, what you are about to do. You are going to speak to that Almighty Being, "who looketh upon the heart," and who sees whether we think of what we say, or care for what we ask.

66

LESSON LXXX.

TRY AGAIN.

Try again" is a very useful maxim to old and young, rich and poor; and a very great deal will be got by all those who will put this short rule into practice.

I would not give a fig for the boy who can sit whining and pining over a sum that happens to be wrong, or a lesson that is rather more difficult than common: why he has nothing to do but to try again heartily, and his sum will soon be done correctly, and his difficult lesson learned perfectly.

You have read of Columbus, who discovered the New World. When he first set sail, what difficulties he had to conquer, and how often he was disappointed! Day after day he tried, and "tried again," till at last his seamen were so tired and disappointed, that they threatened to throw him overboard. Still he "tried again," and persevered till he discovered America.

But you must remember, that you may make a bad use of a good maxim, just as you may of any thing else that is good. Many people have made a bad use of" try again."

There was once a man who took a rash leap over a large piece of timber, and hurt his leg: "What a fool am I," said he, "not to be able to leap over a piece of timber; I will try again." So he tried again, and hurt himself worse than before. This provoked him, and he tried once more, and in doing this his leg was so injured, that it gave him pain until his dying day.

You may see by this, that you should only try again, when the thing you wish to do, or to get, is good and worth trying for, if not, it is foolish to try for it at all.

Whatever you sot about, do not be easily disheartened. If a thing is worth beginning, it is worth finishing; and to begin what we cannot finish, is a proof that we are either foolish in beginning it, or unwise in going on with it.

Think well over what you undertake, before you set to work, and try again," till you succeed. If you follow this maxim, you are almost sure of

success.

LESSON LXXXI.

NATURAL AFFECTION OF ANIMALS.

I have always great pleasure in seeing the affection which animals have for their offspring, and which sometimes shows itself in an extraordi

nary and incongruous manner. A hen that has hatched young ducks, will follow them in her agony into the water, and will sacrfice her life to pres serve the lives of her chickens. A fox, or rather a vixen, has been known to carry one of her cubs in her mouth, when she has been pursued by hounds; and whoever has seen a dog break into a covey of partridges, will have had one of the strongest proofs I know of the force of natural affection.

An instance of parental affection in a bird was recently related to me, which gave me much pleasure. A gentleman, in my neighbourhood, had directed one of his waggons to be packed up with sundry hampers and boxes, intending to send it to Worthing, where he was going himself. For some reason his going was delayed, and he, therefore, directed that the waggon should be placed under a shed in his yard, packed as it was, till it should be convenient for him to send it off. While it was in the shed, a pair of robins built their nest among some straw in the waggon, and had hatched their young, just before it was sent away. One of the old birds, instead of being frightened away by the motion of the waggon, only left its nest from time to time, for the purpose of flying to the nearest hedge for food for its young, and thus alternately affording warmth and nourishment to the nest, till it arrived at Worthing. The affection of this bird being observed by the waggoner, he took care in unloading not to disturb the robins' nest; and my readers will, I am sure, be glad to hear that the robin and its young ones returned safe to Walton Heath, being the place whence they had set out.