k of his neck. It seemed hours since the little brother went away. He
felt very lonely, and the hurt in his arm grew and grew. He watched the
road with all his eyes, but no one came in sight. Then he leaned his head
against the dike, to rest his shoulder.

As his ear touched the dike, he heard the voice of the great sea,
murmuring. The sound seemed to say,--

"I am the great sea. No one can stand against me. What are you, a little
child, that you try to keep me out? Beware! Beware!"

Hans' heart beat in heavy knocks. Would they never come? He was
frightened.

And the water went on beating at the wall, and murmuring, "I will come
through, I will come through, I will get you, I will get you,
run--run--before I come through!"

Hans started to pull out his finger; he was so frightened that he felt as
if he must run for ever. But that minute he remembered how much depended
on him; if he pulled out his finger, the water would surely make the hole
bigger, and at last break down the dike, and the sea would come in on all
the land and houses. He set his teeth, and stuck his finger tighter than
ever.

"You shall _not_ come through!" he whispered, "I will _not_ run!"

At that moment, he heard a far-off shout. Far in the distance he saw a
black something on the road, and dust. The men were coming! At last, they
were coming. They came nearer, fast, and he could make out his own father,
and the neighbours. They had pickaxes and shovels, and they were running.
And as they ran they shouted, "We're coming; take heart, we're coming!"

The next minute, it seemed, they were there. And when they saw Hans, with
his pale face, and his hand tight in the dike, they gave a great
cheer,--just as people do for soldiers back from war; and they lifted him
up and rubbed his aching arm with tender hands, and they told him that he
was a real hero and that he had saved the town.

When the men had mended the dike, they marched home like an army, and Hans
was carried high on their shoulders, because he was a hero. And to this
day the people of Haarlem tell the story of how a little boy saved the
dike.

THE LAST LESSON[1]

[Footnote 1: Adapted from the French of Alphonse Daudet.]

Little Franz didn't want to go to school, that morning. He would much
rather have played truant. The air was so warm and still,--you could hear
the blackbird singing at the edge of the wood, and the sound of the
Prussians drilling, down in the meadow behind the ol