able. I had no money to purchase candle or
oil; in winter, it was rarely that I could get any light but that of the
fire, and only my turn even of that. To buy a pen or piece of paper, I
was compelled to forego some portion of food, though in a state of
half-starvation. I had not a moment of time that I could call my own;
and I had to read and write amid the talking, laughing, singing,
whistling, and bawling of at least half a score of the most thoughtless
of men--and that, too, in the hours of their freedom from all control.
And I say, if I, under these circumstances, could encounter and overcome
the task, is there--can there be, in the whole world, a youth who can
find an excuse for the non-performance?--_William Cobbett_.

PAPER-MILLS.

A return has been made of the number of paper-mills at present at work
in England, Wales, Ireland, and Scotland; also of the number of
'beating-engines' in each mill. From this it appears that there are in
England 304 paper-mills at present in activity, having 1267
beating-engines at work, and 107 silent. In Scotland, there are 48
mills, having 278 beating-engines at work, and 8 silent. In Ireland,
there are 28 mills, having 71 beating-engines at work, and 15 silent.
In Wales, there are no paper-mills. The total is, 880 mills, having
1616 beating-engines at work, and 130 silent.

LINES TO ----.

O could I love thee, love as thou art worthy to be loved,
Thy deep, thy constant tenderness my purpose might have moved.
I know, might I accept thy heart, a blissful lot were mine;
Would we had earlier met--but no! I never could be thine.

I love thee as a sister loves a brother kind and dear,
And feel a sister's thrilling pride whene'er thy praise I hear;
And I have breathed a sister's prayer for thee at Mercy's throne,
And ne'er a truer, purer love might sister's bosom own.

I knew this trial was in store; I felt it day by day;
And oft in agony I prayed this cup might pass away;
And yet I lacked the power to tell, what thou too late must hear,
To tell thee that another claims this heart to thee so dear.

Alas! that I must cause thee pain--I know that thou wilt grieve--
For oh! thou art all truthfulness; thou never couldst deceive;
And I have wept when anxious care sat heavy on thy brow,
Have wept when others wounded thee, and I must wound thee now.

It may be that in after-years we yet shall meet aga