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What he said, as nearly as I can recall it, was as follows: "Befo' I pernounces de benediction, I wants ter 'spress de thanks o' dis chu'ch ter de 'oner'ble visitor wha' set 'isse'f so modes' in de las' pew dis evenin', an' den sen' up de bigges' conterbutiom, fulfillin' de words o' de Scripture, which say de las' shill be fus' an' de fus' shill be las'.
Their mother and I were just starting for a drive in the buggy, and we promised the bereaved owner that we would visit a store we knew in East Norwich, a village a few miles away, and bring back another "'spress" wagon. When we reached the store, we found to our dismay that the wagon which we had seen had been sold.
The "'spress" chair and table were received with such rapture that we had to get duplicates for the other small member of the family who was the particular crony of the proprietor of the new treasures. When their mother and I returned from a row, we would often see the children waiting for us, running like sand-spiders along the beach.
Rainy days were hard when two children had to stay in the house all the while. "We can play 'spress wagon without Splash!" exclaimed Sue, for she was a good little girl, and did not want to make her mother worry. "All right," agreed Bunny. "We'll just make believe we have Splash with us to pull the pretend wagon."
Lee," requested the cook, "an' 'spress to him de mortification we 'speriences at being necessitated to tender him his tea outen de elegantest ob best Japan. 'Splain to him dat we 'se a real quality family, an' regularly accustomed to de finest ob plate, till de Hessians depredated it."
I would drag one of the children's wagons; and when the very smallest pairs of feet grew tired of trudging bravely after us, or of racing on rapturous side trips after flowers and other treasures, the owners would clamber into the wagon. One of these wagons, by the way, a gorgeous red one, had "Express" painted on it in gilt letters, and was known to the younger children as the "'spress" wagon.
'Marse Spruce-tree, yondah, he done tole me to jes' keep a diggin' an' I'd sho fin' gol'. When I 'se jes' 'bout to gib up, an' I does sometimes, yes, sah, I does, ole Marse Spruce-tree he jes' stan' up yondah on de hillside an' laff an' say, "Why, Rufus, yuse is altogedder wufless." Ole Brer Rabbit, he nod he haid an' 'spress heself same way.
"Mother says she told him to bring me a heap of things a gun and a 'spress wagon and a engine that runs on a track and lots more things. Say, Anne, is there really truly a sure-'nough Santa Claus? George Bryant says there isn't not. Tell me, Anne. Does Santa Claus really come down the chimney?" "You stay awake and see," advised Anne. "I'm going to.
"Sh sh, talk dat kin' o' low, Mastah, don' 'spress yo'se'f so loud!" and the old man looked fearfully around as if he feared some one might hear the words. The master fell back in his seat in utter surprise. "And, why, I should like to know, may I not speak of your age aloud?"
"By 'spress?" cried Flyaway, pulling away from aunt Madge, who was trying to pin her frock together; "we came by a 'ductor. Why, where's Flipperty's ticket?" Horace seized Prudy with one hand, and Dotty Dimple with the other, turning them round and round. "I don't see anything of the express mark, 'Handle with care. What has become of it?"
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