"

Lucy did not know what an analysis was, so she went a little further.
"What are you doing here?" she said timidly, for these were somewhat
bigger boys.

"We are drawing up an essay on the individuality of self."

That was enough to frighten any one away, and Lucy betook herself to
some quite little boys, with fat rosy faces and light hair. "Are you
busy, too?" she said.

"Oh yes; we are learning the chief cities of the Fatherland."

Lucy felt like the little boy in the fable, who could not get either the
dog, or the bird, or the bee, to play with him.

"When do you play?" she asked.

"We have an hour's interval after dinner, and another at supper-time,
but then we prepare our work for the morrow," said one of the boys,
looking up well satisfied.

"Work! work! Are you always at work?" exclaimed Lucy; "I only learn
from nine to half-past twelve, and half an hour to get my lessons in the
afternoon."

"You are a maiden," said the little boy with civil superiority; "your
brothers learn more hours."

"More; yes, but not so many as you do. They play from twelve till
half-past two, and have two half-holidays in the week."

"So, you are not industrious. We are. That is the reason why we can all
act together, and think together, so much better than any others; and we
all stand as one irresistible power, the United Germany."

Lucy gave a little gasp! it was all so very wise.

"May I see your sisters?" she said.

The little sisters, Gretchens and Kaetchens were learning away almost as
hard as the Hermanns and Fritzes, but the bigger sisters had what Lucy
thought a better time of it. One of them was helping in the kitchen, and
another in the ironing; but then they had their books and their music,
and in the evening all the families came out into the pleasure gardens,
and had little tables with coffee before them, and the mammas knitted,
and the papas smoked, and the young ladies listened to the band. On the
whole, Lucy thought she should not mind living in Germany, if they would
not do so many lessons.

CHAPTER XV.

PARIS IN THE SIEGE.

"AND Uncle Joe is in France, where the fathers and brothers of those
little Prussian boys have been fighting. Suppose and suppose I could see
it."

There was a thunder and a whizzing in the air and a sharp rattling noise
besides; a strange, damp, unwholesome smell too, mixed with that of
gunpowder; and when Lucy looked up, she found herself down some steps in
a dar