Wall, the very next day, when Josiah came from Jonesville,--he had been to mill,--he brought Cicely a letter from her aunt Mary. She wanted her to come on at once; for her daughter, who wus a runnin' down, wus supposed to be a runnin' faster than she had run. And her aunt Mary was goin' to start for the Michigan very soon,--as soon as she got well enough: she wasn't feelin' well when she wrote. And she wanted Cicely to come at once. So she went the next day, but promised that jest as quick as she got through visitin' her aunt and her other relations there, she would come back here. So she went; and I missed her dretfully, and should have missed her more if it hadn't been for the state my companion returned in after he had carried Cicely to the train. He come home rampant with a new idee. All wrought up about goin' into politics. He broached the subject to me before he onharnessed, hitchin' the old mair for the purpose. He wanted to be United-States senator. He said he thought the nation needed him. “Needs you for what?” says I coldly, cold as a ice suckle. “Why, it needs somebody it can lean on, and it needs somebody that can lean. I am a popular man,” says he. “And if I can help the nation, I will be glad to do it; and if the nation can help me, I am willin'. The change from Jonesville to Washington will be agreeable and relaxin', and I lay out to try it.” Says I, in sarkastick tones, “It is a pity you hain't got your free pass to go on:--you remember that incident, don't you, Josiah Allen?” “What of it?” he snapped out. “What if I do?” “Wall, I thought then, that, when you got high-headed and haughty on any subject agin, mebby you would remember that pass, and be more modest and unassuming.” He riz right up, and hollered at me,-- “Throw that pass in my face, will you, at this time of year?” And he started for the barn, almost on the run. But I didn't care. I wus bound to break up this idee of hisen at once. If I hadn't been, I shouldn't have mentioned the free pass to him. For it is a subject so gaulin' to him, that I never allude to it only in cases of extreme danger and peril, or uncommon high-headedness. Now I have mentioned it, I don't know but it will be expected of me to tell about this pass of hisen. But, if I do, it mustn't go no further; for Josiah would be mad, mad as a hen, if he knew I told about it. I will relate the history in another epistol. CHAPTER IV. This free pass of Josiah Allen's wus indeed a strange incident, and it made sights and sights of talk. But of course there wus considerable lyin' about it, as you know the way is. Why, it does beat all how stories will grow. Why, when I hear a story nowadays, I always allow a full half for shrinkage, and sometimes three-quarters; and a good many times that hain't enough. Such awful lyin' times! It duz beat all.