THE LAST LESSON Ir

holding his spelling-book with both
hands, he spelt the letters with them.
One could see that he too did his
best ; his voice trembled with emotion,
and it was so funny to hear him that
we all wanted to laugh and cry at
once. Ah! I shall always remember
that class.

Suddenly the clock of the church
rang for noon, then for the Angelus.
At the same moment, the trumpets of
the Prussians returning from exercise
pealed out under our windows. M.
Hamel rose from his chair, turning
very pale. Never had he looked to
me so tall.

‘My friends,’ he said, ‘my friends,
I—I—’ But something choked him,
He could not finish the sentence.

Then he turned to the blackboard,
took a piece of chalk, and pressing
with all his might, he wrote as large
as he could;

LONG LIVE FRANCE.