“Well, they've got a cussed poor taste, fur I'll swar thar aint anythin' on this yeur road to the bluff' wuth shucks, 'cept Nancy Birch, and her temper would tarn the stomic of the d-----l.” In the course of a few minutes one express passenger remarked to his companion, “We'll meet the stage this side of the brick house.” “Certain,” was his friend's reply. “It's out now,” said the biggest sucker, “thar goin' to rob the mail,” and he cast a fearful glance over his shoulder to see if they had pistols in their hands. The stage was now heard lumbering along, and in a few minutes they met, when out dashed the _expresses_. “Stop!” cried one, to the driver--up mounted another to the side of the stage. “I'm d------d, gentlemen, ef we belong to that arr crowd!” screamed the sucker driver, “I'll jest swar on a stack of bibles, that them fellars ony hired our team.” The express who mounted the side of the stage, thinking he might obtain a copy from some passenger, thrust his head through the door, and finding one “insider” he demanded:-- “Have you got a _message?_” “Dake all mit you, mine Got!” exclaimed a German passenger in answer, “but dont gill de fader of dirteen little babys,”--at the same time he handed his wallet to the express messenger. “To the d------l with your old leather, give me a _message paper!_” shouted the express. “May I go to der duyvel, if ish got any oder baper but _Indiana!_” exclaimed the Dutchman, still holding forth his wallet. The driver now informed them that he had the message along, but “he'd jest see them and the city of St. Louis in h----l, afore they'd git him two steps further than the law pervided he should go,” and that was to the Illinois side of the river. He said this so bitter, that the chance looked hopeless for moving him, but one of the boys, with a tongue “iley as a sarpint,' quiet as a mole, and civil as a pill pedlar, climbed up on the seat beside him, and placing himself in a good position, he commenced whispering close to the ear of the driver, and Eve never yielded as easily to the serpent's temptation, as the mail driver now began to melt' under the soft whisper floating around him. “You said it would be _hot!_” exclaimed the driver. “I did,” replied the whisper, “and lots of it, besides a dollar under the pitcher of punch, and sundry comfortable fixens around it.” “Don't say any more,” said the driver, “that's jest the kind of _snap_ I want to git into to night.” So, putting up his horses he shouldered the mail bags, and across to St. Louis the party travelled.