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Entered according to Act of Congress, in June, 1808, by J. W. Burke & Cos., in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the So. District of Georgia.
VOL. 11.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
THE PIC-NIC.
AY I, mother? Please say,
may I go?” and little Robert
Talbot twined an arm about
his mother’s neck, and placed his fresh
young face beside the pale, care-worn
one reclining against the purple velvet
lining of the large arm-chair.
“ What is it, my darling?
where do you want to go ?”'
“To the pic-nic, mother —
the pic-nic!” and the blue
eyes, —perfect mirrors of
mirth, flashed roguishly,
and the boyish lips pressed
the wan cheek.
“When and where is it,
my son?”
“Where? down at Silver
Creek, mother dear; and
when? to-morrow. Aunt
Di can bake me a chicken
and some doughnuts, can’t
she ? Please, dear mother,
let me go!”
“ Will you promise to be
a good boy, and not go in
the creek ? It would trouble
mother very much if she
thought you were not a good
boy, for you would be then
without any one to look after you, as
father will not be home from the city
until day after to-morrow.”
“Yes, mother, I promise you that I
shall not go in the creek, except —moth-
er, suppose someone should be in trou
ble, and I could help them, then you
would not object.”
And the bright face grew suddenly
serious, the eyes lost their merry spar
kle, and the boyish form seemed to ex
pand, and to claim the right to offer as
sistance to one in distress.
“But, Robbie, dear, I hope no one
will need your assistance. I hope that
the day will pass without any accident.
Ring the bell, that I may give Dinah her
orders concerning your luncheon.
“Thank you, dear, good mother.”
And again the pale cheek received a
loving kiss, ere the boy crossed the room
and touched the bell.
“And so you are really going with
us!” exclaimed the merry band of boys
and girls, as Robert joined them at the
promised place of meeting, preparatory
to setting out for Silver Creek.
“ We feared your mother would not let
you go with us, as she is always sick,
and you the only child.”
“Yes, she said I could go, and had
Aunt Di make me such a nice dinner.
Father is away from home, and mother
made me promise to be a good boy and
come home early.”
Presently the merry band started forth,
and much chatting and merry laughter
floated out on the clear morning air.
After half an hour’s walk, they arrived
at Silver Creek.
“ Now for fun, now for frolic !” How
the woods rang with merry shouts and
Avild huzzahs! Baskets were stowed
away beneath a large overhanging rock,
and the happy owners betook themselves
to various and sundry amusements.
Some played “hide and seek” among
the beautiful trees that bordered the
mossy banks of the creek, which had de
rived its name, silver, from the clear
ness and crystal-like purity of its waters.
MACON, GEORGIA, JULY n, 1868.
Others seated themselves upon the
banks, and gathering the pretty pebbles
hidden in the moss, cast them upon the
bosom of the creek, and laughed and
clapped their hands at the plash and
gurgle of the waters as the pebbles sank,
and the little silver rings on the surface
alone told where they went down.
A large tree had been cut down and
thrown across the stream, and this serv
ed as a rustic bridge. Several, more
daring than the rest, ventured to cross
this bridge, and soon merry songs and
happy voices floated across the water
from the opposite shore.
How swiftly the hours sped on ! Pre
sently—for no one was dreaming of be
ing hungry—Victor Hughey, the largest
boy in the band, and the only one who
sported a watch, blew a blast on his lit
tie silver trumpet, which was the signal
agreed upon for the dinner hour.
What a scampering of feet and ming
ling of voices, as the band hastened to
gather their baskets from their hiding
places at the call of the bugle.
Robert very gallantly carried the bas
ket of Callie Leroy, and invited her to
partake of the delicacies his own basket
contained. 0! the nice broiled chicken,
baked turkey, light bread and wafers,
cakes, doughnuts, pickles, etc., that were
set out upon the snowy table cloth, which
had been spread upon the grass. Sev
eral boys hastened to the spring to get
a bucket of water, and soon returned
with the clear, crystal-like nectar.
After an hour spent over their im
promptu dinner table, the baskets, with
the remnants of the feast, were safely
stowed away a second time—for, as one
of the smaller children remarked, “We’ll
be hungry going home late
this afternoon.” They had
all acted upon this hint, and
carefully preserved the re
mains of the feast.
Again brown curls and
black glanced here and there,
and again the “ hip, hip, hur
rah 1” of the fun-loving boys
woke the echoes
At length quite a number
crossed the ci’eek on the rus
tic foot-bridge, and among
the number our hero, Robert,
and our heroine, Callie.
Very soon some of the
boys proposed to wade in,
near the bank, and test the
depth. Removing shoes and
socks, and rolling their pants
to the knee, they suited the
action to the word.
“ Come on, Robert —come
on ; ’tis splendid !”
“ No, no, I cannot go ; I promised my
mother I would not go in.”
“Do come, your mother will know
nothing about it, and you will enjoy it
so much.”
“No, I would not, for I would be
thinking of my disobedience all the
while.”
During tnis dialogue, several of the
girls, among them Callie Leroy, were
standing upon the bridge, listening in
tently to what was passing below them.
Two of the boys were in the water and
two were upon the shore. Robert, dress*
ed in neat white pants and black cloth
roundabout, stood near the water’s edge,
next to Harry Mason, a much larger
boy.
In her eagerness to hear all Robert
NO. 2.