Jonathan gets Ill and Homesick—Resists all entreaties to go to Washington, and resolves on going back to "the Humstead" with Captain Doolittle.

Dear Par:

Wal, arter writing that story about the Bowery Milliner, I begun to think York was a going to be rather too hot to hold me. All the boss milliners in York got into a tantrum and kicked up sich a darned rumpus that I raly begun to be afear'd that they'd cum down to my office in Cherry-street, and get up a fourth of July oration, or a she caucus, and girt me to death in a pair of them darned French corsets. But the peaked little working gals, they were eenamost tickled to death with that story, and there warn't no eend to the harnsome sweet critters that cum to my office a crying and yet half a smiling, to thank me for taking up on their side. One thing though made me feel bad enough. That etarnal leetle stuck up old maid got so allfired wrothy that she turned Susan Read out of her place, and cheated her out of some of her wages too. Darn her it makes me gritty only jest to think on it. But she'd better look out, I can tell her; for if I take her up agin, consarn me if I don't use her up till she aint bigger than the tip eend of a pine stick whittled down to nothing.

Wal, as the spring come on I began to git peaked, and every morning felt sort of wamblecropped in my stomach when I woke up. I s'pose it was cause I couldn't git pork and dandelines and prime fresh young onions right out of the arth, as I used tu to hum. The editors of the Express, they wanted me to take an emetic, but I told 'em I couldn't think of sich a thing, it was agin natur. I looked sort of solemn, jest as I always do when they use any of them French words that I don't understand, and made up my mind to look in Boyer's Dictionary, and find out the meaning of emetic the fust thing arter I got hum.

"Wal," sez they, "if you don't like that, Mr. Slick, s'posing you take a trip to the Seat of Gineral Government, and see how them Loco Foco chaps are a carrying on there, it'll answer all the same."

"Wal," sez I, arter thinking it all over in arnest, "it seems to me as if I was kinder hankering arter the green trees and the grass and cows, and the wind that comes straight down from heaven, where you can breathe it out on your own hook, and not take it second hand, as we do in York. I raly think I should feel like a new critter if I could only go hum a spell and weed the young onions." With that I begun to think about the humsted, and how it was gitting towards planting time; and think sez I, par 'll miss me about these times, and marm too, for she wont have any body to do her milking when it rains, nor to bring water and du up all the leetle chores that I al'rs did for her. Then I seemed to see our orchard all a leaving out thick and kivered over with apple blows; and it seemed tu me as if I was a setting on the stun wall, jest as I used to when I was a leetle shaver, a looking how fast the grass grew and a wondering how long it would be afore green apple time. There was the well-crotch and the pole, and the bucket a hanging to it, as plain as day, and the peach tree that grows by it chuck full of pink blows. There was you a gitting out the oxen to go to ploughing, and there was marm out in the meadow at the back door, a picking plantin leaves for greens, with her old sun bonnet on, and a tin pail to put the greens in.

Oh dear, how humsick I did feel! I could a boo-hooed right out, if it would a done any good, when I sort of come tu, and found out that I was setting in the Express office, with nothing but picters of that old critter, Gineral Harrison, and a heap of newspapers scattered every which way over the floor, to look at.

"Wal," sez the Editor, sez he, "Mr. Slick, what do you think about it? you raly ought to go to Washington, to see the President and the lions."

I put one leg over t'other, and winked my eyelids for fear he'd see how near I come to crying; and arter a leetle while, sez I—

"I haint no kind of doubt that that are Washington is a smasher of a city; but somehow, if you'd jest as livs, I'd a leetle ruther go hum."

"Yes," sez he, "I haint the least doubt on it; but then, if you git out of the city, it don't make much difference which way you go."

I see that he'd made up his mind to have his own way; but think sez I, you don't git it without another tough pull, anyhow; so sez I—

"I raly feel as if I must doctor a leetle; and when a feller feels tuckered out, or down-hearted, there is no place like hum, if it's ever so homely,—and nobody can take care of a feller like his own marm. Now I know jest how it'll be—the minit I git hum, the old woman will go to making root-beer; she'll sarch all over the woods for saxafax-buds to make tea on, and there'll be no eend to the snake root and fennel seed bitters that she'll make me drink. I raly feel as if I must go; so don't you say any more about it," sez I; "I shall come back agin as bright as a new dollar."

If there is anything on arth that holds on hard, it's a York Editor; a lamper-eel is nothing to one on 'em. They'd have their own way, if the Old Nick himself stood afore them as big as the side of a house.

By-am-by the hull truth come out; sez the Editor, sez he, a speaking as soft and mealy-mouthed as could be, sez he—

"But, Mr. Slick, you can't write any letters for us in Weathersfield; so jest make up your mind to start right off. You can go hum any time."

"But I want to doctor," sez I.

"Oh, take a box of Sherman's cough lozengers," sez he, a smiling; "they cured you last winter, you know." With that, he let off a stream of soft sodder, sez he, "a man of your talents oughtn't to bury himself in the country. The members of Congress are all a-tip-toe to see you, and so are the gals in Washington—the Russian Embassador's wife and all on 'em."

It warn't in human natur to stand agin this; so I sort of relented.

"Oh, you're a joking," sez I, a hitching on my chair; "I don't raly s'pose the Washington gals ever heard of me in their hull lives."

"Hain't they, though," sez he.

"Wal," sez I, "I should kinder like tu go, jest to see what Congress people look like. I've a sort of a notion that mebby I shall run for Congressman myself one of these days. I don't believe there's a feller in all York better qualified. When I come away from Weathersfield, I could lick any feller there, big or leetle; and I've a sort of a sort of a notion that I can dress out any of them varmints in the Capitol, if they do practice a leetle more than I du."

The Editor of the Express, he larfed a leetle easy, and sez he, "Well, Mr. Slick, it's all settled then—and the sooner you start the better."

"I'll think about it," sez I.

Wal, I went back tu the office and sot down, kinder loth tu go so far from hum as Washington City, and yet anxious to oblige the Editor of the Express; but all I could du, thoughts of the humsted kept a crowding intu my mind till I couldn't stand it no longer, but kivered up my face with both of my hands and took tu crying like a sick baby. Jest then—while I was a feeling dreadfully—somebody opened the door of my office, and in walked Captain Doolittle, with his hand out, and a grinning from ear tu ear as if he was eenajest tickled tu death to see me agin.

I jumped right up and shook hands with him, while I turned my face away and wiped my eyes with the cuff of my coat, for I felt ashamed to let him ketch me a crying.

But there is no cheating that old coot, he's wide awake as a night hawk.

"Jonathan," sez he, "What's the matter—you look as thin as a shad in summer—consarn me if I don't believe you have been boo-hooing."

"You've lost your guess this time," sez I, a trying to put on a stiff upper lip.

The old feller, he looked in my face, and then agin on the cuff of my coat—then he folded his arms and stepped back and eyed me all over, and sez he at last,

"Jonathan, one thing is sartin, either you've been a crying, or you've told a whopper to your old friend, or—"

"Or what?" sez I, wiping the cuff of my coat on my trousers' leg—"or what?"

"Or your deginerated—deginerated!" sez he, "deginerated from the Weathersfield stock!"

"Wal, I don't seem to understand how you'll make that out," sez I.

"Jonathan," sez he, as arnest as could be, "there was tears in your eyes jest as I come in, and you was ashamed on 'em. Now, sich tears as a smart, honest young man may feel in his eyes naturally, are nothing to be ashamed on; when he gets to thinking of hum or old friends, or perhaps them that are dead and gone,—the drops that come up unawares to moisten his eyes are wholesome to his natur. I've seen the time, Jonathan, when a minister's prayer didn't seem half so easing to the heart. An honest chap might as well feel streaked about saying the Lord's Prayer; for the tears that thinking of them that we love sets a going, have eenamost as much religion in 'em as singing and praying and going to meeting altogether. Prayer, Jonathan, prayer falls upon the natur like the warm sun on a patch of young onions—and tears, ginuine tears that come from tender thoughts, Jonathan, darn me if they ain't the rain that keeps the young shoots green. You wouldn't have been scared about my seeing sich tears, Jonathan, and I know you've got tu much grit for any other—you aint the chap to snuffle and cry because things go crooked with you—I'm sartin of that."

"I reckon you may be," sez I.

"Wal, Jonathan," says the captin, a folding his arms close up to the red shirt that kivered his bosom, "there aint but one way of accounting for it. I never would a believed it, but you've deginerated. These Yorkers have larned you to be ashamed of eating onions—it's jest arter dinner time—I see through it all—you've been a thinking of hum, and tried a raw onion for once—your eyes aint used to it now, and that's what makes 'em so red and misty. I have seen the time, Jonathan Slick, when you could cut up a hull peck without winking; I've seen you cronch one like a meller apple; and now, arter living in York, this is the eend on't."

"Come, captin," sez I, a holding out my hand, "don't make a coot of yourself, I can eat a raw onion without winking as well as ever I could. Seeing as you can peak so consarned far into a mill-stun, I may as well own up and settle the hash to once. I've been kinder peaked and hum-sick ever since spring opened. I sot down here all alone, got a thinking of old times and things to hum, and that sort of made me cry afore I knew it; that's the hull truth, and I'd jest as livs you knew it as not."

Captin Doolittle, he gin my hand a grip, and sez he, "That's right, Jonathan, own up like a man, I see intu it now—hum-sick as git out—just what I wanted. The old sloop is ready to sail right off—pack up your saddle-bags, jump aboard, and we'll be in Weathersfield in less than no time. Your par and mar, and Judy White, and all the folks tu hum will be tickled eenamost tu death to see you."

I felt my heart jump right intu my mouth, but it sunk agin like a chunk of lead when I thought that I'd eenajest agreed to go tu Washington. "Captin," sez I, "I'm afeared I can't go—I've nigh about promised to go tu Washington City."

"Washington City be darned," sez he, a going intu my back room and a lugging out my saddle-bags; "Washington City can't hold a candle tu Weathersfield this time of the year. You can't think how fresh and green everything looks; the square before the meeting-house is as green as grass can be—the laylock trees in front of the humstead are all in full blow—we've had young lettuce and pepper-grass there these three weeks—think of that! with good sharp vinegar, plenty of pepper and salt, and a sprinkle of young onion-tops mixed in jest as they come from the patch by the eend of the barn,—Gosh, but don't it make your mouth water only to think on it, Jonathan."

"I swow, captin, there's no standing it, I must go."

"Sartinly you must—the old woman would go off the handle if I should come back without you and Judy White. That Judy is a nation harnsome gal, Jonathan. She told me tu jest mention that the orchard over agin the house was in full blow and every tree chuck full of robins' nests. You can smell that orchard half-a-mile off, Jonathan, but Judy says it kinder makes her molencholy tu see the trees a budding out so agin, and the birds a singin from mornin to night among 'em, and nobody tu enjoy it but her."

"I'll go, by gauly offalus—I'll go," sez I, "but what will the editors of the Express say," sez I, feelin all over in spots about goin off so.

"The Express go tu grass," sez Captin Doolittle, a crowding my pepper and salt trousers intu the saddle-bags.

"Jest so," sez I, a helping him strap up the bags; "I'll write a letter hum tu say I'm jest a startin, and send it through the Express, and that will let the editors know what I've detarmined on."

"Jest so," sez Captin Doolittle, "and I guess I'll go down to the sloop with the saddle-bags. I only jest got in last night, took out the ladin this morning, and we shall be a cuttin down the East river afore sunset; quick work, I reckon, don't you think so, Jonathan?"

"I should rather think it was," sez I.

"Wal," sez he, a shoulderin the saddle-bags, "write off the letter and come right down. You mustn't let the grass grow under your feet, now I tell you. Your marm will be about the tickledest critter that you ever sot eyes on when you git back agin—she's got a hull lot of winter apples saved up yit agin you cum. I wish you could a seen the old critter a knittin away all the long winter evenings tu git you a hull grist of socks made up; she seamed every darned one on 'em clear through, jest because it was for you, Jonathan."

"You don't say so!" sez I, kinder half cryin agin; "now du git out, will you? I want tu write my letter."

With that, the Captin he went off saddle-bags and all. I sot down and wrote off this letter about the quickest, I can tell you. I shall send it up tu the Express office, and if we have good luck, it won't be long arter you git it afore you will shake hands with us.

Your loving son,

Jonathan Slick.