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BURKE’S WEEKLY
FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
MACON, GA., JULY 20, 1867.
A STORY WITHOUT AN END.
told our little readers last week about
I(|T Eddie and his kitten. We suppose that
Ulla good many of them think it was a
“made-up story,” conjured out of
the Editor’s brain for their amusement.
S&y But we can assure them that it was
real “ true-and-truethat there is
just such a little boy as Eddie; and that he has a
little cousin Sallie and a little brother M illie ;
and that he lost his little kitten just as we related
last week.
Well, now we have a story of another little boy,
who lives in South Carolina, and whose name is
“ Charlie.” We suppose there are a good many
little boys like Charlie, so we print the story as
related to us by his father, for their especial ben
efit :
Charlie is a little boy, very fond of reading, or
rather of hearing stories read ; for, though old
enough, he cannot yet read. A lazy little fellow,
I’m afraid. Wonder if there are many more like
him in this great, round world. All the stories
for little boys and girls—“ Jack, the Giant-Kill
er,” “Jackand the Bean Stalk,” “Cinderella,”
“Dick Whittington,” and “St. George and the
Dragon,”—he knows by heart. And still, like
Dickens’ little Oliver, he “ asks for more. 1 ' 1
Father, mother, brother, every one, is tired out
with the ever-recurring request, “ Please tell me
a story.” And then the questions he asks would
puzzle a philosopher. When they are too hard
for his mother to answer, she —good, easy woman
—hies him away to papa, Charlie entertaining the
opinion that his father knows everything. Robinson
Crusoe was a special favorite with him, until he
stumbled upon the Pilgrim’s Progress, and now
Christian and Faithful, and Mr. Greatheart are
his heroes, and Appolyon, Giant Despair, and
Grim, the chief objects of his dislike. He can’t
abide Giants Pope and Pagan, and is glad to see
them sitting in the mouth of the cave, unable from
age and other disability to pursue faithful pilgrims
any more. Appolyon he absolutely detests, and
wishes Christian, in his encounter with him, had
not only put him to flight, but actually “killed
him dead’ with that sharp two-edged sword of
his.
But “Robinson Crusoe” comes to an end, the
“Pilgrim’s Progress” likewise, and little Charlie’s
great want is a story that “will last forever.”
His father in his reading met with the story of an
old King who desired the same thing. He made
an offer of his kingdom, and his daughter in mar
riage, to any one who would tell him a story with
out end, but he coupled with it the heavy condi
tion, that upon failure the storyteller should lose
his head. Tempted by the great prize, many appli
cants came, but all ended sadly—each upon the
story ending, according to agreement, losing his
head —an irreparable loss to the sufferer certainly.
But at last came one who, although so many had
perished, resolutely refused to be warned, and en
tered upon the apparently hopeless task. In the
usual way of all story tellers he began : Once upon
a time, there was a king who, desirous of bringing
his subjects into still greater subjection, deter-
BURKE’S WEEKLY.
mined to store up all the grain in his kingdom.—
The granary rose mountain high and was filled to
the very brim. But the careless workmen left a
little hole at the top, and there chanced to come
a cloud of locusts, who, entering one by one,
each carried off a single grain of corn. The story
went on —“And another locust entered and car
ried off another grain of corn. And another lo
cust entered and carried off another grain of corn.
And another locust entered and carried off anoth
er grain of corn,” until an hour was consumed.
The king impatiently demanded the progression
of the story. “ How can I, 0 king,” replied the
narrator, “tell the last of a story until the first is
ended.” And on he went: “Another locust
entered and carried off another grain of corn.
Another locust entered and carried off another
grain of corn,” until the day was done. The
king demanded to know how many more locusts
were to enter. “How can I tell?” said the nar
rator; “the heavens are yet black with them.
And another locust entered.” The king wearied
and vexed, at the end of a month, wished to know
how much more corn was to be removed. “Can’t
tell exactly, but up to this time a few square
inches are all that are yet cleared away.”—
“Well,” said the king, “skip all that and go on.”
“Impossible,” was the reply, “the first part of
the story must be told before I can enter on the
second. And another locust entered and carried
off another grain of corn. And another locust
entered and carried off another grain of corn.
And another locust entered and carried off ano
ther grain of corn.” And so the story went on,
until six months elapsed, and there being no
abatement, wearied out, the king angrily cried
out: 1 * Tafce my daughter—take my kingdom —
ta\e everything—only stop those everlasting lo
custs entering. 11
Now, Charlie’s father thought he had the very
tliingthe little fellow needed, or at least something
that would settle the ever-recurring request for a
story. His father began and Charlie listened pa
tiently until worn out with the ever-entering lo
custs, he put his hands to his ears and rushed
beyond the sound of his father’s voice. There
was some rest for awhile, for whenever the old
request came up, ’twas enough to say, “ Another
locust entered,” and Charlie was off like a shot
out of a shovel.
But, like everything else, it came to an end,
and the insatiable thirst for more stories still ex
ists. Asa last resort, his father has resolved to
subscribe for Burke’s Weekly for Boys and
Girls, for if that ever does come to an end, it is
hoped the end will be a good way off.
The first number has arrived and been twice
read over. Hurry up the second, or we shall
have to go back to the locust story.
Charlie has received the second number ere
this, and is no doubt deeply interested in Mr.
Goulding’s story, and all the other good things it
contains. Little boys and girls into whose hands
this number may fall, will do well to advise their
fathers and mothers to follow the example of
Charlie’s father, and we warrant that there will
be no longer any necessity of recurring to the
story of the locusts.
Remember —that clubs need not all go to the
same post office, but to fifty different offices, if
you wish. Nor need they all go to the same State.
Get them where you can, and send us their names
and the money, and we will send the paper.
Thanks.
We trust that our little friends everywhere will
continue to work for us, as they have been doing
during the last two or three weeks. Subscrip
tions have come in, and are continuing to come,
in such a w r ay as to convince us that our efforts to
please the boys and girls of the South have not
been unsuccessful. We regret that our limited
space will not permit us to publish extracts from
the hundreds of letters which have reached ua
from nearly every southern state, in which the
kindest things have been said of us, and such as
surances of approbation given as have filled our
hearts with delight. The good Lord helping us,
we intend to make a paper for our boys and girls
which will not only strive to teach them to be
true to themselves and all around them, but of
which they will be proud. They must help us,
however, by saying a good word for us to their
little friends, and thus extending our subscription
list. We want to close our first volume with ten
thousand subscribers, and we can do it, if the
boys and girls will continue to work for us as they
have been doing. Look at our premium list, and
see how large a library you can procure for your
self before the end of the year.
A Good Example.
A little boy, at Watkinsville, Clark Cos., Ga.,
sends us $2.00 for the Weekly, and says: “I
have sold blackberries for the money, without
troubling my father for it. I have shown the num
ber I have to several, and think you will get more
subscribers from this place.” Well done, Clem
ent. We commend your example to our other
subscribers and to some who say the/ would sub
scribe if they had the money. There is scarcely
a little boy or girl in the South who cannot, by
selling blackberries, or in some other way equally
honest and creditable, make enough in the course
of the present summer, to pay for a year’s sub
scription to the Weekly. Think of having a pa
per to read every week, for twelve months, at the
expense of a few hours’ work each day for one or
two weeks. Let us make a calculation for you.
Suppose you pick and sell three quarts of straw
berries a day, at five cents a quart —they are cer
tainly worth that much anywhere—this gives you
fifteen cents a day. Divide $2.00 by fifteen, and
you have thirteen and a fraction.
So you see that in a little more than two weeks
you c&n get the subscription price of our paper.
Suppose you try it. If you sell apples, or peaches,
or watermelons, you may get the amount sooner.
At all events, it is worth a trial.
But our little friend’s example is to be com
mended in another particular: he says he has
shown his paper to others, and asked them to
subscribe. If every one of our subscribers would
do this, and send us one more name, don’t you
see how easily our list could be doubled? Won't
you do it? Look at our premium list, and go to
work, and we shall soon have our ten thousand
subscribers. We shall not be satisfied with less.
fiST’When you send your own name, or any
other, be careful to give us the name of the Post
Office and State also. It is best to add the full
address at the bottom of your letter.
A little boy in Wisconsin was being put to
bed the other night about dark, when he objected
to going so early. His mother told him the
chickens went to bed early, and he must do so
too. Ihe little fellow said he would, if his mother
would do as the old hens did—goto bed first, then
coax the chickens to come.