"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. * * * * * LETTER XVIII. JONATHAN SLICK RETURNED. Jonathan's Arrival in New York from the onion beds at Weathersfield--Jonathan puts up at the Astor House--His notion of that great heap of stones--Jonathan's Ideas of a New York Cab, and the usual quarrel of a Stranger with Cabmen--A Sensation is created at the Astor. DEAR PAR: