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teachers have hard work to keep sober. I remove my mask. 'It's your turn now, my dears; come on.' And they go through the performance several times, to be able to execute it well and quickly.

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"Monday, March 27. — The session begins as usual, at half-past eight; I am giving a lesson in oral arithmetic, when all of a sudden my assistants, who have remained above, come rushing down to the stairway, crying, "The bombardment is close by!' 'Bring your children down instantly,' is my reply. I am not greatly excited because of the frequency of the bombardments, which very seldom reached the school. But suddenly a terrific noise deafens us: two shells have fallen on a house at the corner of the square, close by. The little ones begin to tremble and cry. Aided by my teachers, I quickly form them in groups encouraging them the while in order to take them down into the cellar. We have hardly begun to go down when we hear above our heads a tremendous crash, mingled with the noise of shattered glass. Another shell has fallen on the building, penetrating the first two concrete layers and smashing all the windows. The children who are a little way behind are terrified and begin to shriek; some soldiers who have taken refuge with us take them in their arms and quickly carry them down. The older ones, whom I am leading, remain perfectly calm; they go down quietly. Below we gather them all about us and comfort the most timid. When they see that they are safe, they soon grow quiet. But a few small girls keep on sobbing. I go up to them. 'You must n't cry any more: you're out of danger now.' But holding me, one by the apron, another by the hand, they say, 'Mamma will be killed, madame! there is n't any

cellar in our house.' 'Papa was working in the square, madame! Suppose he didn't have time to run away?' 'Don't be afraid, children,' I reply, kissing them; 'your papa and your mamma won't be killed; they will be able to reach some safe place. Your mamma will come to fetch you in a moment; it will soon be all over.' My assistants meanwhile are comforting others.

"Our stay in the cellar lasted two hours. It seemed to us extraordinarily long. So far as most of the children were concerned, it was a surprise; and it ended by amusing them; they would have liked to go upstairs to see what was going on. Some of them talked with the soldiers, who gave them bread which they calmly set about eating. At last, about twenty minutes past two, hearing nothing more, I went to make sure that the danger was at an end. Some parents hurried in to get their children, and thanked us for taking them where they were safe. The pupils quickly came up two by two, each of the older ones leading a little one. I formed them in line, and each of us took charge of a group. Then I dismissed them for the afternoon."

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The result of the investigations that I made shows that during the thirty months that the schools were open, thirty-seven shells fell upon the buildings and two of them went through the roof, luckily while the children were absent, into the rooms where the sessions were held every day. More than a thousand projectiles of all calibres fell within a space of less than 100 metres from the schools, in which space they killed seventy-six grown persons and eight children who never attended school. Not a single teacher or pupil was wounded.

THE DESERTED PASTURE

BY BLISS CARMAN

I LOVE the stony pasture
That no one else will have.

The old gray rocks so friendly seem,
So durable and brave.

In tranquil contemplation
It watches through the year,
Seeing the frosty stars arise,
The slender moons appear.

Its music is the rain-wind,

Its choristers the birds,

And there are secrets in its heart

Too wonderful for words.

It keeps the bright-eyed creatures
That play about its walls,
Though long ago its milking herds
Were banished from their stalls.

Only the children come there,
For buttercups in May,

Or nuts in autumn, where it lies
Dreaming the hours away.

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