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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.