All these recollections came
hurrying into my mind as I sang, and probably excited me beyond my
knowledge, for Budge suddenly remarked:--
"Don't sing that all day, Uncle Harry; you sing so loud, it hurts
my head."
"Beg your pardon, Budge," said I. "Good-night."
"Why, Uncle Harry, are you going? You didn't hear us say our
prayers,--papa always does."
"Oh! Well, go ahead."
"You must say yours first," said Budge; "that's the way papa
does."
"Very well," said I, and I repeated St. Chrysostom's prayer, from
the Episcopal service. I had hardly said "Amen," when Budge
remarked:--
"My papa don't say any of them things at all; I don't think that's
a very good prayer,"
"Well, you say a good prayer, Budge."
"Allright." Budge shut his eyes, dropped his voice to the most
perfect tone of supplication, while his face seemed fit for a
sleeping angel, then he said:--
"Dear Lord, we thank you for lettin' us have a good time to-day,
an' we hope all the little boys everywhere have had good times
too. We pray you to take care of us an' everybody else to-night,
an' don't let 'em have any trouble. Oh, yes, an' Uncle Harry's got
some candy in his trunk, cos he said so in the carriage,--we thank
you for lettin' Uncle Harry come to see us, an' we hope he's got
LOTS of candy--lots an' piles.
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