Paper, in one respect, is a curious manufactured product. It can be made from almost any fibrous material with the exception of wool. The knowledge of this fact prompted members of the general public to advance the claims of divers and wondrous substances. As may be readily imagined, the majority of these suggestions erred somewhat upon the side of the fantastic and chimerical. The mere fact that paper can be made from almost anything does not necessarily imply that it is commercially practicable to exploit even the most obvious raw materials indiscriminately. There is a wide and deep gulf between the laboratory, the cradle of experiment, and the factory, the home of application. In the first-named the factor of cost of production does not count; in the last-named it constitutes the crux of the issue. Consequently the majority of the recommendations submitted by the uninitiated suffered from the disability of being perfectly feasible but hopelessly impracticable. Submission of a suggestion to the cold, unrelenting, unsympathetic manufacturing analysis and subsequent translation into pounds, shillings, and pence offered the incontestable reply to the inevitable question “Will it pay?” One article of domestic origin, the spartina, or common couch grass, which thrives in abundance upon many stretches of our coastline, notably Hampshire, was responsible for an avalanche of letters containing inquiries as to why this material was not being turned to account. Apparently every individual who had visited the neighbourhood of the Solent, and had observed the density of this growth, assailed the authorities for their lethargy. Esparto grass was imported from Spain to make paper, and yet here we were ignoring a readily obtainable indigenous grass similar in every respect!