—­“a Hollander’s draught should potent be,
    And deep as the rolling Zuyder Zee.”

Mind this, all ye Hollanders who would give your support to our HOLLAND.  Let your drafts be potent, your cheeks heavy, your attendance punctual.  Make the affair complete; so that when, here-after, a comparison is sought for something that has been a sued people will say of it—­“As big as that Bumper of HOLLAND’S.”

* * * * *

ASTRONOMICAL CONVERSATIONS.

(BY A FATHER AND DAUGHTER RESIDING ON THE PLANET VENUS.)

No.  I.

FATHER (to DAUGHTER, who is looking through a telescope.) Yes HELENE, that is the Planet Tellus, or Earth.  The darker streaks are land; the bright spots, water.  We begin with a low power, which shows only the masses; presently you will have the pleasure of discriminating not only rivers and chains of mountains, but cities—­single houses—­even Human Beings!  Yes, you shall this very night read page of PUNCHINELLO, a paper so bright that every word appears surrounded by a halo!

DAUGHTER.  O father! do that now.  How delightful, to actually read the works of these singular creature’s, and become familiar with their extraordinary ideas!  Were the scintillations you spoke of the other night, that were seen all over the Western Continent, the result of the flashing of these radiant pages?

F. Undoubtedly, my child; they began with the first issue of the paper, and have since regularly increased in brightness, just as It has.

D. It really seems as though Earth would answer for a Moon, by and by, at this rate!

F. You are quite right, HELENE; it will.  Or say, rather, a Sun.  For you will observe that it is a warm light; not cool, as reflected light always is.  It is Original.

D. Well, this shows that PUNCHINELLO must have some Heart, as well as Head.  Come, put on your highest power now, and let us seem to pay good old Tellus a visit!

[The indulgent Father complies, and, is at some pains to adjust the focus.]

F. Now, dear! take a good look.

D. (Looking intently.) Oh! how splendid—­how splendid! Do see the beautiful things in those Shop Windows!  It must be the Spring Season there! Do see those lovely lumps on the backs of those creatures’ heads!  What place is it, Father?

F. That?  It’s New-York; and the street is the famous Broadway.

D. O dear! how I would like to go shopping there, this minute!—­for I see it is afternoon in that quarter.  Is there no way of getting there?(!!!)

F. (Laughing heartily.) Well, well, HELENE!  That’s pretty good, for the daughter of an astronomer!  Do you know that at this precise moment you are Forty-five Million, Six Hundred and Fifty-four Thousand, Four Hundred and Ninety-one Miles and a half from those Muslins!  I’ll tell you, Sis, what could be done:  Drop a line to the Editor of PUNCHINELLO, and tell him what you want.  He’ll get it, some way.