My little dawter is growin quite rapid, and begins to scrootinize clothin, with young men inside of it, puthy clost.  I obsarve, too, that she twists pieces of paper round her hair at nights, and won't let me put my arms round her any more for fair I'll muss her.  "Your mother wasn't 'fraid I'd muss her when she was your age, my child," sed I one day, with a sly twinkle into my dark bay eye. "No," replied my little dawter, "she probly liked it." You ain't going to fool female Young America much.  You may gamble on that. But all this, which happened in Baldinsville a week ago, hain't nothin to do with Washington, from whither I now write you, hopin the iterms I hereby sends will be exceptable to the Gin-Cocktail of America--I mean the "Punch" thereof.  [A mild wittikism.--A.W.] Washington, D.C., is the Capital of "our once happy country"--if I may be allowed to koin a frase!  The D.C. stands for Desprit Cusses, a numerosity which abounds here, the most of whom persess a Romantic pashun for gratooitous drinks.  And in this conjunction I will relate an incident.  I notist for several days a large Hearse standin in front of the principal tavern on Pennsylvany Avenoo. "Can you tell me, my fair Castillian," sed I this mornin, to a young Spaniard from Tipperary, who was blackin boots in the washroom--"can you tell me what those Hearse is kept standin out there for?" "Well, you see our Bar bisness is great.  You've no idee of the number of People who drink at our Bar durin a day.  You see those Hearse is necessary." I saw. Standin in front of the tarvuns of Pennsylvany Avenoo is a lot of miserbul wretches,--black, white and ring-strickid, and freckled--with long whips in their hands, who frowns upon you like the wulture upon the turtle-dove the minit you dismerge from hotel.  They own yonder four-wheeled startlin curiositys, which were used years and years ago by the fust settlers of Virginny to carry live hogs to market in.  The best carriage I saw in the entire collection was used by Pockyhontas, sum two hundred years ago, as a goat-pen.  Becumin so used up that it couldn't hold goats, that fair and gentle savage put it up at auction.  Subsekently it was used as a hospital for sick calves, then as a hencoop, and finally it was put on wheels and is now doin duty as a hack. I called on Secretary Welles, of the Navy.  You know he is quite a mariner himself, havin once owned a Raft of logs on the Connethycut river.  So I put on saler stile and hollered:  "Ahoy, shipmet!  Tip us yer grapplin irons!" "Yes, yes!" he sed, nervously, "but mercy on us, don't be so noisy." "Ay, ay, my heart!  But let me sing about how Jack Stokes lost his gal:-- 'The reason why he couldn't gain her, Was becoz he's drunken saler!'        "That's very good, indeed," said the Secky, "but this is hardly the place to sing songs in, my frend."