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SDUCA7I0HAL ffSFARTMENT,
Organ of the Georgia Teachers Association-
Organ of the State School Commissioner, G. J, Orr
W.IJ. BtWNELL, Editor.
Public School Education.
NO I.
Editor Homing Xeics: It is the happy lot of
Savannah to have established, years ago, a public
school system based on the best educational prin
ciples, and conducted with general approbation.
The system comes up to the ideal standard, and its
practical working is v^ry successful. The schools,
I believe, have never met with much opposition,
having been liberally supported by the city and
county, managed with prudence and economy by
the board of Education, and patronized by every
grade of society. Indeed, this is one of its remark
able features, and it is the best witness to the mer
it of the schools that, unlike most other cities. Sa
vannah has all aloDg sent to her public schools
her children of every grade in society. Visitors
front other places have often admired this fact.
Humors from time to time prevail that the sys
tem is now in danger because of the city pecun
iary embarasements, and that the schools may not
receive enough money from the city to enable the
boa d to carry them on through the current year
ending July next. This, I believe, the people
would feel to be a great misfortune.
It has seemed to me that, perhaps, there may
be some lukewarmness, possibly opposition, to the
schools in the minds of some of our citizens, grow
ing out of the f ict that the schools have been so
long in operation that their necessity and right of
existence have not been discussed of late before
the community. Coupled then with the shortened
means of the city, there may be a disposition in
some minds to oppose the public schools in their
own right. If ibis be so, and the feeling arises
from ignorance of the high claims of the public
schools, may it not be expedient and proper to
present to the minds of our people the consider
ations which uphold the necessity and value of
public school education? With your permission,
I propose to do this in a series of articles under
the title of ‘Public School Education,’ of which
this paper is the first.
THE rCBLIC SCHOOL SYSTEM A NECESSITY TO THE
STATE.
The experience of the world, and especially of
American communities, in public school education,
and its general good results, have not only pretty
nearly disarmed opposition to the public school
system, but have popularized it everywhere, a3
the most efficient and the only method of instruct
ing the masses. While there are too many unedu
cated Communities, it is not common to find one
opposed on principle to public education. In such
places, the want of schools comes from the inabil
ity. real or fancied, of the people to support them,
O' from the want, of knowledge of their value.
People almost universally admit that some degree
of book education must be given to the whole body
of youths of school age in a community, and that
such education cannot reasonably be expected at
the hands of the parents. The reason is that the
masses are everywhere too poor to give even ele
mentary instruction to their children. If only
this much be done, it must be done by the State.
Facts show, in every community without public
schools, multitudes growing up unable to read or
write, many of whom never learn after childhood,
but appear in our educational statistics as a mass
of illiterates. Then parents, because of their own
small wages, cannot send their children to pay-
scfcools, and their wages are small because of their
own want of education, find the?;? two thug's per
petuate each other in every generation.
The public schools have vindicated themselves in
making education a want, and in enabling the
whole body of the poor to obtain it. No wonder
then they should be popular, as they are the gos
pel of instruction to the majority of a community
who would, without them, grow up in ignorance.
The people have learned their worth in the eleva-
tien of their children, and have long ago outgrown
the old notion that the poor must educate them
selves, and have no more right to look to the pub
lic for knowledge than for food and clothes. Years
ago this was the staple argument against education
at public expense. The taxes of one citizen, it was
said, would go to pay for educating the children of
another citizen, who paid no taxes, and this pret-
t yantithesis, it was thought, closed the dispute.
Its advocates, if there are any now, forget two
ihiDgs: First, that society is a unit, needing the
best and most intelligent service of all its members,
and therefore, in its own behalf, it must educate
them, if they cannot educate themselves; and sec
ond, that society does not leave its other public
wants to individual will, but provides for them on
a large and generous scale at public expense, and
why should it do so, in respect to its most neces
sary want, education?
Let us say a few words on both these heads
First, a community is a unit whose every part is
essential to its growth and prosperity, whose inter
ests are common, and whose well-being is the sum
of the prosperity of all. This prosperity can be
best reached, as experience shows, by the common
agent providing, at public expense, fo- those things
that belong to the general welfare. To leave to in
dividual effort, whatever in the nature of things
can only be secured by public provision, is to
mock expectation. Especially is this true of
general education, the most valuable of the com
mon interests of society. Unless this is looked
after by the State, none get it but the well condi
tioned classes. It is probable that but for our
present public schools, a thousand of the white
children of Savannah, to say nothing of the blacks,
would at this moment not be attending any school.
What a squandering of precious time, and what a
loss of knowledge power would this prove to the
next generation ! Society needs intelligent and
profitable citizens, and it cannot have them unless
it supplements private means for education. This
is universally true. Wherever the higher educa
tion is universally diffused, as in Scotland, Prus
sia and in our Northern States, it has been brought
about by public schools, supplementing and often
absorbing private schools. No one will say that
the great mass of even the white population of
Georgia is composed of intelligent citizens, as use
ful to the State and as helpful to themselves and
families as if they had a higher education. The
reason is plain ; the public school system does not
yet exist in every neighborhood’ nor where it does
exist does it do much more than teach the rudi
ments. To accomplish its mission, it must prevail
everywhere, and its sphere of studies be much en
larged. The well-being of a community depends
—it cannot be too often repeated—on the knowl
edge and training of its citizens, got, for the most
part, in the instruction and disciplin of its public
schools. These qualities, then, being so esential
to the worth of the citizen, and attainable by the
masses only in these schools, it follows logically
that the schools are essential to the community.
Second, there is nothing new in this, for it is
the identical way in which the State provides for
all its ether wants. Look at a summary of them.
The promotion of public health, the care of the
sick and helpless in hospitals, the provisions for
lunatics and deaf, dumb and blind, the dispens
ing of justice between individuals, the punish
ment of crime and the protection of property by
the police, the establishment of pnrks and gardens
for refreshment and pleasure, the erection of
public buildings for ornament and decoration, and
the lighting of the streets and public resorts. All
these things, substantially alike, are nowhere left
to individual procuring, but are provided at public
expense; and shall education, probaoly the most
important of public wants, be left to the poverty of
the citizens ? These all stand on one basis—all
equally legitimate aud equally justifiable. The
rich roan would be ashamed to refuse any of these
expenses, merely because his taxes went equally to
the benefit of the poor man, for as a citizen, if he
takes a broad and elevated view of things, he can
have no real prosperity in which all the community
does not share. Take the public library for
instance. Suppose Savannah were able to support
schemes for the public good to a greater degree
than she has ever done ; suppose she saw fit, under
consent of her citizens, to establish, as an education
al step, a public library, would not an ignorant tax
payer be ridiculed who should refuse taxes because
he could cot read, or an intelligent one because he
had books of his own ? Is either of these less un
reasonable, when he opposes public schools because
he has no children to educate, or because he can
do it at his own expense ?
May we not then regard it as proved that the
measure of a community's influence is the intelli
gence of its people, and that this intelligence can
be widely diffused only under the public school
s stem, and that therefore the public schools areas
legitimate a public expense as those above enu
merated ? It so, then the question resolves itself
into the extent of public instruction.; that is,
whether it should stop at the elementary branches
or should include the higher education. This very
important point I shall discuss in a future article.
My next subject wiil be pauper schools.
Citizen.
Savannah, November 21, 1878.
Sundown.
BY SHALER G. HILLYER, Jr.
Aidhor of the Prize Story, '‘Horrible Family," in
the Savannah Xeics.
It was two o’clock when I left Cutbbert. j
had a good horse, and. withont an accident,
could reach Mrs. Goldiei’s residence before
night.
After going three or four miles, I noticed that
the tire on me of the wheels of my buggy was
loose. This compelled me to drive more slow
ly, for should it come off it would cause me
muoh trouble. Seeing that it wonld soon come
off unless something was done to prevent it, I
stopped and wrapt it as tightly as I could with
a leather strap which I lonnd in the foot of
the buggy. I first split the strap that I might
wrap it on opposite sides of tbe wheel. Reach
ing some water soon after, I drove into its deep
est p.rt and stopped for a few minutes, in or
der that the water might swell the rim, and so
further tighten the tire.
Owing to these delays the sun had been down
some time when I reached the Patanla. I ob
served that the creek was a little swollen by re
cent rains, though it still kept within its banks.
Before reaching the store, I thought I heard
again the well known cronpy bark of old Levi's
dog, but the sound came faint, and as if from a
great distance; While passing the store I look
ed for the owlish figure of the old man where I
had always seen it, but this time it was not
there. The house was closed, nor was its own
er anywhere in sight. Again I heard the wheezy
cough of the white dog, and it evidently pro
ceeded from the closed store. The sounds came
muffled to'Nny ears, and* between'the barks "I
could hear low whines of distress.
I am not ordinarily, I believe, superstitious,
nor nervous when alone in lonely places, but
when I came in sight of the long bridge over
Wrath way creek, it s farther end lost in the gloom
of the swamp, and still hearing behind me the
mournful whine of the dog, a nervous feeling
crept upon me which I could not shake off, and
which made mo at length, take my pistol from
my valise, and hold it in my band.
Erelong the bridge is passed, and I am enter
ing the dark runlet beyond, now filled with wa
ter. The water in its deepest part, reaches the
flanks of my horse. Aud now we are approach
ing the other side, where the road is narrowed
by the encroaching undergrowth on either side.
When my horse was now within a few feet of
the bank, suddenly, on the right of him, and
close at his head, there was a flash of light and
a loud report; on the left of him, in the edge of
the brake; almost at the same instant there was
anotner flash, but the report of the second pis
tol shot was drowned by the unearthly scream
of the horse, as ho made a wild leap forward,
and then fell heaviiy to the ground. I had
raised my pistol and fired between the two shots.
Tbe jerk which the buggy received from the
plunge of the horse threw me ont. I fell,
helpless mass, in tbe shallow water near the
bank. I was helpless because the second shot
had been aimed at me, and had been well aim
ed. The ball struck me in the neok, complete
ly paralyzing me, yet leaving me conscious.
A tall form stepped quickly from tbe brake;
again was there a fltsh, and a report, followed
by a sharp pang in my right side. A smaller
figure then emerged from the shadow on the
right.
‘Hoot, man ! hush yonr gun; the less noise the
the better now,’said the second figure; ‘don't
you see he’s limp as a rag? Now for the monee
—the twenty-five hundred dollars ! Hoo, hoo,
hoo-oo-oo ! the monea-e !‘
‘Ha ! began the other, with a diabolical sneer
in his tone, ‘here’s the man that thought to
spoil my game, is it ? The man that Kate Gol
die admires so much. Ha, ha, ha,’ and the
suppressed laugh had a demoniac sound, ‘he
will hardly trouble me after this. Bat ha 1 look
at his eyes, will you, see how tuey stare at me!
Cuts* him ! I'll give him another shot’
He held his pistol within a few feet of my face
and fiied. I immediately felt a stinging sensa
tion in the right temple. In that dark moment
I abandoned all hope of this life, and tried to
commit my soul to Him who gave it. My atten
tion, however, was again quickly called to the
words and acts of the two men on the bank.
•S op man !’ said Levi hurriedly, and seizing
him by the arm; ‘lo more of that—too much
now, too mnoh noise! The monee, man, the
monee-e!‘
The other put up his pistol, when they both
seized me, and dragging me to the bank, pro
ceeded to rifle my pockets of their contents. Tb6
envelope containing the money was quiokly
found. The honest Stephen took possession of
it, as he also did of the memorandum contain
ing the numbers of the notes. The humpback
took possession of my watch, a silver one this
time, and chuckled with evident glee as he
transferred it to his own pocket
*0, the fool!' he said, ‘to lie still and sleep
while old Flapp was paying him a visit 0, the
sleepy-headed fellow !’
‘A cuise on him !’ muttered the ether, ‘I be
lieve his fire broke my :eft arm; if so, I will have
to leave the country for a short time.’
‘l'es, go, I‘ll cover your tracks. But the mon
ee, have you the monee safe ? Let’s go and di
vide it, come !‘
‘Hush !' hissed Swetweli, clutching the dwarf
by the arm; ‘stop your jabbering. Is not that a
horse coming down the lane? Coma, let as
pitch him into the water.’
‘Wait! a rock! a reck! - said Levi,looking about
him eagerly.
‘No,’ answered Stephen, sharply, ‘we haven’t
time for that. Take hold—qniok!’
In the next instant I wss raised from the
gronnd and thrown into the stream. Fortu-
nately, I fell on my back and so extended that
my body was submerged bnt a few inches. From
necessity keeping perfectly still, I floated to the
surface and remained there. My would-be-mur-
derers crossed the runlet by a foot bridge, and
then I could hear faintfy their footsteps as they
passed hurriedly away over the long wagon
bridge.
I drifted a few feet below the ford and was
resting against a pile of brushwood that had ac
cumulated about the base of a cypress tree. I
lay there motionless, incapable of exertion, and
hardly capable of thought.
My senses were not aente, and mingled with
my perceptions, both of right and sound, were
strange fancies. And now, for a briet space, it
may have been only the tenth of a second, yet
it seemed much longer,all sounds were sudden
ly hushed. Then, as if coming from a great
distance, strains of music fell upon my ear. I
rocognizod them as the melodies I had loved
when a boy. The sounds drew nearer, but
changed as they did si. The music changed to
martial and mingled with the strains, yet ris
ing above them, was all the din and uproar of
battle. I could hearand see the bursting bombs
above me, and could hear and see the rifle balls,
on fire they seemed »s they sped past me, yet
coming so close at times as to scorch my cheeks
with their fiery breath. Bnt these sounds at
length died away; how long they had been with
me I know not; they-seemed to have filled many
minutes, in reality, no doubt, they occupied
but a few seconds.
Again wap there silence, complete, unutter
able stillness. And then there came, as if into
the far edge of this silent void, the cronpy bark
of a dog. The bark came nearer, and as it np-
soon as you see some one start for the doctor.
Don't stop !’
Thus urged he put spurs to his horse and was
soon out of sight.
Kate came and again knelt beside me to see if
she could, by any means, add to my comfort.
She arose almost immediately and going to the
buggy brought from it one of its cushions. She
brought also my pistol, which she found lying
on the floor of the vehicle, and placed it in easy
reach beside her. She then attempted to place
the cushion under my head, but the attempt
caused me such acute pain as produced an in
voluntary groan, which made her desist. She
looked into my face a moment in silence, then,
taking one of my hands in both of hers, she
said in low, earnest tones:
‘Oh ! Mr. Lockwood, speak to me—tell me
what I can do for you !’
I tried to answer her, but the effort was even
more futile than the former ones. In fact, a
ch»Dge had come to me; I oonld hear no longer
the uncouth music of the brake; a mist was gath
ering rapidly before my eyes; my brain was reel
ing. The vision of my fair gnardain, a3 she
knelt beside me in the moonlight, ohafiDg my
cold hands with here, vanished at length and
with it passed all consciousness.
CHAPTEL XII.
BEFORE THE DAWN.
I awoke as if from a long and deop slumber.
The first object that my eyes rested upon was
the face of a child looking down upon me from
the wall. Not yet realizing my condition, I
j kept my balf-awakeDed eyes fixed upon those
of the child, which seemed to look into mine
with compassion. The motion of some one
near my bedside at length aroused me to the
tact that I was net alone. Instantly recalling
the scene at the bridge, my first thought was of
my brave rescuer. I searched the room with
my eyes as well as I was able, but she was not
there. Close by my bedside I discovered a gen-
. , ... , , ., T . ' tleroan nodding in his chair, who, I had no
! doubt, was the physician attending me. Reclin
ing on a conch, on the|opposite side of the room,
came on and on, always with the cronpy wket-z
until it seemed to be standing close at me, but
on the bank. Then it began to go zwsv, and
departing more rapidly than it came, it was soon
biyond hearing.
There wys another silence, an indescribable
blank. Ila! I now near, afar off. tbe tramp of
a horse. It is the sonnd, I remember, that
made my assassin fly. The horse is galloping;
I can hear the clatter of his hoofs on the bard
clay, as he comes down the lane towards tbe
bridge. And now that sonnd too, seems to die
away. Is it, like tbe others that I heard, an il
lusion, or is the rider drawing rein with the in
tention of going back ? Ob, no ! the horse was
pawing some sand bed, for I hear again the clat
ter of its hoofs as it comes on. with nnsiackenecl
speed towards the bridge. And now I hear the
tramp of a second horse; it seems to be some dis
tance in the rear of the first, bnt, like it, is com
ing on st the top of-its speed.
I was hardly capable of thought, yet the sound
of the approaching horses svrved to arouse it in
some degree. Were these riders coming to my
relief, or were they travelling the road on er
rands of their own? If the latter, would the
sight of the dead horse and buggy ia the stream
make them pause and look about them ? Would
they find me there under the dark trees, or
could I make myself heard as they passed
through the braW? I made an eff >rt to cry out
to test my abilityto do so, but my throat was
voiceless. I tried to plash the water with my
hands, but no mnscle moved in obedience to my
will. If they are passing by, I thought, they
will not see me and I will be left alone to die.
Tbe sound of the clattering hoofs drew nearer.
I was lying in such a position that I could
see a few yards up the lane. Upon that clear
space in the road, partly lighted up by the
moon just risen, I fixed my gaze, while listen
ing intently AoAhe sound of the galloping
hcrs»«»- Sr- 1 - —
They are ncyr very near, and the first is still
leading the other by some rods. A few more
seconds, they seem miDUtes to me, and it en
ters my narrow field of vision. Ha, I recognize
the rider; it is K»to Goldie ! A hope of relief,
if not of life, comes to me at sight of her, but
mingled with it is an instinctive dread at see
ing her alone in that dismal place of crime.
Yet I am powerless to warn her, or even to at
tract her attention. She draws rein as she comes
in sight of the slain horse and the empty buggy
in the stream. As she stops within a few feet
of the former. I hear her utter an exclamation
of surprise. She then looks up, and, in a sub
dued tone, calls me bv name:
‘Mr Maurice Lockwood !'
I try to answer her, but cannot. At the
sound of her voice, Dandie, who, I had noticed,
kept close by her side, raises his head and
whines. He snuffs the air, then leaping to that
side of the. stream nearest to where I lay, he
stands in the edg^of th# water, with his nose
pointing towards me and whining significantly.
The girl moves her horse to *.be dog’s side.
From the low cy of horror whicn ©scapes her I
know that she has discovered me. The next
instant she leaps from her horse and enters t’ao
water. I cannot see her now, but I can hear
her struggling in the water among the reeds, as
she slowly makes her way towards me. The
bottom of th© brake too is unesrain, filled as it
is with holes and slimy roots, while above the
water there are low-hanging boughs and vines
that do all they can to stop her. She forces her
way through them all, until I see her at length
beside me. Dandie is there too, swimming bt-
side her. By this time the second rider, who
proves to be George, has arrived.
The sister, with a voice unnatural, after tell-
ng her brother who I wa«, oalled on him to aid
her in getting me ont of the water. George at
once left his horse and made his way to where
we were. Only a few words passed between the
brother and sister as they stood there by me,
and these were spoken with white lips and with
trembling voices. These short utterances re
vealed that they both concluded I had been way
laid and murdered—for they evidently thought
me dead —on account of the money I was bear
ing to their relief. Placing me between them, it
was not a difficult matter to float me back to the
ford and then to the bank. It was a matter of
greater difficulty tr f get me out of the water, bnt
this they managed to do and without causing
me pain.
When, at length, I lay upon the dry bank,
Kate knelt beside me, and took my head be
tween her hands, as if to change its position,
perhaps it had the appearance of resting un-
cemfortably. As her hand tonohed my brow she
started and with a quick motion placed her
other hand above my heart She then b prang
up with a low, hysterical laugh; perhaps she
oould not have restrained it had she tried, or,
perhaps, she was unconscious of it.
‘Oh, he lives !’ not loudly, but eagerly. ‘They
tried to kill him, but he lives; he shall not die!
Mount your horse, Georgy, fly home: tell J9rry
to put a mattrass in the spring wagon and bring
it here and to bring with him a couple of men.
Be quick! George—and tell Jerry to lose no
time in getting here. Tell mother all, that she
may have a room, his room, ready for him; then
send some one for the doctor, one that you know
will go quickly. Now go—and keep your spurs
pressed to your horse’s sides !’
She spoke rapidly, yet seemed to forget noth
ing. George was mounted ere she ceased speak
ing, but he hesitated:
T don’t like to leave you here alone, Kate,’
he i a d.
‘I have this,’ she said, putting her hand on
her derringer, ‘and Dandie; besides you need
not be gone long, yoa can come back to me, as
was a youth whom I snpposed to be George.
Tne only sound that broke the stillness of the
night was a ticking of a clock that stood od the
mantel’
In my eagerness to look about me I inadver
tently attempted to turn my head, which gave
me such a sharp pain in the nock that a low
moan escaped me. The doctor at once turned
towards me.
‘Don’t attempt to speak or to move yet,’ he
said, laying a hand on one of my arms. ‘Ah,
sir, you have had a narrow escape. Your nerv
ous system Las received a severe shock. The
paralysis, we have reason to hope, will prove
of short duration. But it will be necessary for
yon to keep quiet,very quiet, and to bo hopeful.’
He then proceeded to administer to me an
anodyne, yet talking all the time he did so. He
first made me acquainted with the extent of my
injuries. The wound in my neck was a serious
one. It was that which had paralyzed me; but
he hoped to see me soon relieved of the paral
ysis as it was due rather to a nervous shock than
to any direct inj ary to the spinal column. It was
also bis opinion that the aphony which accom
panied the paralysis was due to the same cause;
if so, it would speedily disappear; perhaps by
morning I would recover my voice. My other
wounds, he said, were slight, the balls having
struck me obliquely ia both cases and glanced,
the first from a rib and the second from my
skull.
‘I came up,’ continued the doctor, ‘just as you
were lifted from the wagon which brought yon
from the creek. Miss Kate had you in charge,
and she seemed to know exactly what to do, Af
ter we had brought you in here, and I had an
opportunity to look about me, I saw that her
garments were wet, though she seemed to be
unconscious of it. I sent her at once to her
to put dry clotbjng. Sne cau:e.bftckj
presently, sajung that she would sit up with
you. While her voice was firm I noticed that
she was very pale, and sol insisted od her re-
tnrning to her room to obtain that rest which
she so much needed, I have learned since how
she and George went into the water and brought
you out; and of her lonely watch by you. It
was terrible work for a girl, sir, terrible !’
He ceased. The potion which I had taken
was at length stealing my senses. The vision
of the brave girl keeping her lonely vigil by
my side, which the last words of the doctor had
called up, continued with me as I pessed into
dream land. I had a distinct vision of hex as
she sat beside me on the ground; again and
again I looked into her pale face as she sat there
patiently waiting, and watching and praying.
Ah! how the minutes dragged until they length
ened into hours. Would help never come?
Wonld we never hear the sound of the wagon
coming down the lane ? I cared not for myself,
only for the relief of the lone wamherat my side.
What if my would-be murderers should return
to see i? they had indeed done well their work?
H»! as the dreadful thought comes to me I see
a shadow fall upon the far side of Wrathway
bridge,and now another. And by the dim moon
light I can see two forms, with their bodies bent,
creeping stealthily across the bridge towards
us. A cold feeliug creeps over me. I 1 ox at
Kate to see if she Las discovered them. She
has not, for her eyes are still turned upon me,
ever fix»d upon me with a sad, dreamy look.
And now the assassins have crossed the bridge
and are now about to cross the dark runlet by
the foot-bridge. Will Kate not turn her nead in
time to see them ©re they are upon us? There
is my own pistol lying by my side, but she will
not s»ize it, and I cannot, though I try ever so
hard. My soul writhes in impatient madness
because 1 cannot raise my hand to grasp the
weapon within its reach. But Kate must be
made to see those men, she must be aroused to
a sense of their presence; I must make her hear
me. Summoning all the strength 1 could oom-
mand, with oue mighty effort I spoke her name.
With that effort I awoke, the vision fled, and, I
believe, the bands were loosed from my tongue.
The next instant the dootor was bonding over
me.
‘So yonr speech has returned to you,’ he said,
plaoing a hand on my wrist as he spoke. ‘Yon
called Miss Goldie’s name, not loudly, yet dis
tinctly enough for me to know that it was her
name you uttered. The effort must have been
a very great one, for your hands and face are
covered with a profuse perspiration. This wiil
not do; you had better not sleep if you are to
be awakened in this manner. Rest, absolute
rest, is what you need and what you must have.’
But I must speak. Now, that my speech was
restored, it was impossible for me to rest until
I had revealed the two men who had attempted
my life, and then robbed me, I must unmask
them,and so defeat their wicked plan of defrau
ding Mrs. Goldie and her children of their prop
erty. Finding, however, that I was completely
exhausted, I was obliged to be very quiet for a
few moments, waiting to gain sufficient strength
to proceed, while the doctor silently wiped the
perspiration from my hands and brow. Pres
ently I said, speaking in a low tone:
‘Call Miss Kate Goldie.’
Before he could reply a low tap was heard at
the door. The doctor at once went to it and
opened it.
‘Come in, Miss Kate,’ he said, ‘he has just
asked to see you.’
‘I wes not mistaken, then,’ she^said, as she
followed him to my bedside.
‘Mistaken about what ?’ he asked,
‘I heard him call me a few minutes ago,’ she
answered. ‘I was asleep at the time, but the
call awoke me. I was so sure that I heard him •
that I r.t once arose and as quickly as I could
came here.’
•Sure that you heard him, indeed!' said the
doctor, with an incredulous stare. ‘Why you
could scarcely have heard him had you been
here by his side. As for his call awakening you
—it was simply impossible. You were dream
ing, Miss Kste, as he was, and, naturally too, of
the Rame events he was, hence,the coincidence.’
•Perhaps so,’ she assented. ‘At any rate, he
has asked for me, and I am here.’ She came
nearer and bent down close to me.
‘What can I do for you, Mr. Lockwood ?' she
asked.
‘Listen to me, and yon too doctor,’ I replied,
speaking feebly and with difficulty. The doc
tor drew nearer, and I went on: ‘The men who
attaoked me at the bridge were Stephen Swet-
well and Levi Flapp. I saw them distinctly.
After shooting me, they robbed me of twenty-
five hundred dollars. Should the money be re
covered, let it be used as I intended it, in pay
ment of Swetwell’s claims against Mrs. Goldie's
estate, l'ou are a witnesR,doctor, to this dispo
sition of that money, in case of its recovery.’
Kate wa-i pale when she entered the room,but
I noticed as she listened to my revelation a H ush
creep into her cheek.s; and when I ceased speak
ing, there was a determined look in her eyes
and about her compressed lips. She went at
once to the conch on which George was sleeping
and put her hand upon him to arouse him, but
before she could do so, I asked the doctor to
call her back. She came, and bending over me
as before, I said:
‘I copied tbe numbers of the bank notes iDto a
pocket memorandum. Stephen Swetweli has it.’
She went back to George, by this time fully
aroused. After talking for some time in an un
dertone. they left the room togtther.
I felt better after making my disclosure and
soon fell into a gentle slumber. I slept light
ly, however, and awoke at the end of a half
hour. Kate was in the room: from the ques
tions the doctor put to her I supposed she had
just entered it.
‘What have you done?' he asked.
‘George will go first,’ she answered, ‘to the
shoriffs; he will come back by Mr. Harper’s and
bring Mr. Alonzo with him. Mr. Alonzo Har
per, Mr. Lockwood, was one of the two young
gentlemen you met here two weeks ago; the
other, Mr. Watson, spent the night here. He
came up just as we brought yon to the house.
After starting George off I sent Jerry to bring
Mr. l'oonm and his oldest son, a yonng man,
just grown.’
‘George is a brave lad to ride off alone at such
an hour,’ remarked the doctor, rather irrele
vantly.
‘The sheriff has a younger brother who lives
with him,’ continued Kate, not noticing the
doctor’s last remark, ‘whom he will no doubt
bring with him. There will then be seven, in
cluding George, and Jerry will make eight.’
‘Quite enough to capture the villains,’said the
doctor, ‘if they can be found. You said, I be
lieve, Miss Kate, that jou heard four shots?’
•Yes, I thought there were four. The first
three were really simultaneous, the report of
the fourth came after the lapse of half a minute.’
‘Did you lire, Mr. Lockwood ?’ asked the doc
tor. turning to me.
‘Yes, and wounded Swetweli in the arm.‘ S I
heard him say so.’
‘Ah, that was an unlucky shot. What a pity
you didn't let them do all the shootiug. There
is no*chance then, to catch Swetweli, the bigger
rascal of the two. He started off early, no doubt,
with that broken arm of his.’
The tramp of horses outside interrupted the
doctor’s speech and announced the arrival of
one of the parties sent for. Kite immediately
went out to meet them. For a few minutes there
was quiet again, and then the tramp of other
hoises indicated another arrival. This last was
the sheriffs party, including George and Alonzo
Harper. For a time, we could hear the moving
about of horses outside, intermingled with the
voices of mVn as they spoke sigetber in low
tones. And now the talking ceased entirely,
and we heard only the tramp of the departing
horses. When the last sound of their departure
had died away the clock on the mantel struck
four. Will they be in time ?
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
PLUCKY.
‘Claim your baggage.’
There was a polish in the ring of the quickly-
spoken order, and I turned to look at the bag
gage master. A handsome, manly fellow, with
blue eyes and curling hair looked down at the
swaying crowd for an instant and th n fell to
work swinging t-ie pieces of baggage deftly to
the door, where the checks were removed and
the trunks delivered to those below. When all
were removed, the door to the car was promptly
closed, and I walked off to listen to an in
teresting tale concerning the man I bad been
watching.
The train I had been to meet was one of the
Atlanta & Charlotte Air-Line R. R , and many
who read this mention of him will know to
whom it refers. The position he fills is one of
his own seeking; he was not forced to it for a
living. His father is wealthy, and every mem
ber of his family devoted to him. He could have
folded his hauus in idleness had he si desired,
instead of occupying the arduous position of
handling baggage over 270 miles of Railway
every day.
We are not seeking to heroize the young
gentlemen; we candidly think that abstractly
speaking he is doing no more than he should
do, in going to work. But we do say tha". there
are very few indeed, who situated as be was,
wonld have taken the position that he has. No.
no! it would have been deemed by most young
gentlemen a letting down to doff cloth, kids and
cane, and accept any than a titled office position,
on a Railroad.
But has the yonng baggage master let him
self down ? On the oontrary a host of friends
are outspoken in admiration of his pluck. He
is a thousand times mo.e admirable in hi3
blouse and cap, swinging trunks for a salary,
than he would be in position for a set at the
most fashionable ball in Baden-Baden,
And when a man takes a position of this kind
from choice, not necessity, you may be sure he
means business, and if the subj ect of this notice
does not receive promotion in the world, it will
be because he recedes from the independent,
manly, noble beginning he has made, by accept
ing a baggage master’s place on a Railroad,
rather than be an idler. Success to the plucky
fellow and may hi3 example find followers.
Austria-Hungary.—A Jewish young man
recently appeared before the magistrate of
Brunn (Moravia),and complained that the Rabbi
of his community declined to solemnize a mar
riage which h e was about to contract. The R vbbi
was summoned before the magistrate, when it
transpired that the intended bridegroom was
a Cohen and his bride a devoreed woman. The
Rabbi pleaded that such a marriage was pro
hibited by the Mosaic Law, and that he, above
all, had no right to transgress its precepts. The
magistrate allowed this plea, and dismissed the
summons.
Dr. Martin Philipson, professor extraordinary
of history at the university of Bonn, has been
appointed to fill a similar position at the Brux
elles Univeisity. The appointment is satisfac
tory to the faculties of both Universities-
fc*