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20 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.