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j -y js 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*