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our desks.

One should have seen how each child worked, and what silence! One heard only the scratching of pens upon the paper. Once some May-bugs came in but no one gave any attention to them, not even the smallest pupils. On the roof of the school some pigeons were cooing low, saying to me as I listened:

"Shall we, too, be obliged to sing in German?”

From time to time, when I looked up from the page, I saw Master Hamel, gazing at the objects around him as if he wished to carry away in his looks all the little school-room.

Think of it! for forty years he had been there, in the same place, with the yard and the school before him. Only the benches, the desks, were smoothed, rubbed by use; the walnut trees in the yard had grown, and the hops that he had himself planted now garlanded the windows clear to the roof. What a heart-break it would be for this poor man to leave all these things!

Nevertheless he had the courage to hear our lessons to the end. After the writing we had the Then the little ones chanted their

history lesson.

ba, be, bi, bo, bu.

Down there at the end of the

room old Hauser put on his spectacles, and, holding his primer with both hands, he spelled the letters with them. One saw that he also was studying. His voice trembled and it was so droll to hear him that we all wished to laugh-and to cry.

Ah, I shall remember that last class!

At

All at once the church clock struck noon. the same instant the trumpets of the Prussians, returning from drill, sounded under our windows.

Master Hamel rose, pale, from his desk. Never had he appeared to me so grand.

"My friends," said he, "my friends, I-I-" But something choked him. He could not finish the sentence.

Then he turned toward the blackboard, took a piece of chalk, and bearing upon it with all his strength, he wrote as large as he could:

"Vive la France!"

Then he stood there, his head leaning against the wall, and, without speaking, with his hand he gave the sign to us:

"It is ended-go away."

Abridged.

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AMERICA

BY SAMUEL F. SMITH

My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;

Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride;
From every mountain-side
Let freedom ring!

My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;

I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.

Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees

Sweet freedom's song; Let mortal tongues awake, Let all that breathe partake, Let rocks their silence break, The sound prolong.

Our fathers' God, to Thee,
Author of liberty,

To Thee we sing;

Long may our land be bright
With Freedom's holy light;
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God, our King.

BLACK BEAUTY

BY ANNA SEWELL

I was now beginning to grow handsome. My coat had become fine and soft, and was bright black. I had one white foot, and a pretty white star on my forehead.

Squire Gordon said, "When he has been well broken in, he will do very well." My master said he would break me in himself, as he should not like me to be frightened or hurt, and he lost no time about it, for the next day he began.

Every one may not know what breaking in is; therefore I will describe it. It means to teach a horse to wear a saddle and bridle, and to carry on his back a man, woman, or child; to go just

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