(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.
D. That I will, instantly! [_Turns to her portfolio, while her father
turns to the telescope_.]
"DEAR MR. EDITOR: Pardon the seeming _boldness_ of a _stranger:_ you are
no _stranger to me!_ Long, _long_ have I deceived that _good man_, my
father, by _pretending_ to know _nothing_ of the Earth, or of his
_instrument!_ Many and _many_ a night, _unknown to him_, have I gone to
the _Telescope_, to satisfy the _restless craving_ I feel to know more
of _your Planet_, and of a _person of your sex_ whom I have _often_
beheld, and watched with _eagerness_ as he came and went. How
_thrilling_ the thought, that he cannot even _know of my existence_, and
that we are _forever separated!_ This, good and _dear_ Editor, is my one
Thought, my one great Agony.
"It has occurred to me that, in this _dreadful_ situation--my Passion
being sufficiently Hopeless, as any one may see--you might at least
afford me some slight _alleviation_, by undertaking to let Him know of
the _interest_ he excites in this far-off star! Let me describe my
charmer, so that you will be able to identify him. He is of fair size,
with a rolling gait and a smiling countenance, has light hair and
complexion, wears often a White Hat, (on the back of his head--where
Thoughtful men always place the hat, I've been told by observers,) and
now and then carelessly leaves one leg of his trowsers at the top of his
boot. I have often seen him, with a bundle of papers in his pocket,
entering a large building with the words "_Tribune_ Office" over the
door--and I _adore_ him! O excellent Editor! tell him this, I _implore_
you! Be kind to your distant and _love-lorn_ friend,