"Not even standing-room left. I have more branches of your genealogical tree now than would serve to thatch the Capitol. The federal turkey at this port is stuffed to bursting. You may think that the old Exchange Building, which we now occupy, is a secure building, and so it is, but I don't think it could hold me if another 'connection' is coming. My blue book divides these family contributions to the service of the country into three orders, viz.: 'GRANT,' 'DENT,' and 'SHARPE.' Of the order 'GRANT' I have fifteen in the cellar, forty-seven on the first and second floors, and ten in the attic; of the order 'DENT, 'nineteen on the two floors, seven in the attic, and seventeen in the cellar, and of the order 'SHARPE,' so many that I have engaged the Lightning Calculator of the _World_ to compute them. Your Excellency will perceive that my situation is something like that of a commander who is troubled with too many officers, and if I should be attacked you will Grant that it would take some pretty Sharp practice to make even a Dent in the armor of my adversary. "The best I can do is to request you to authorize the creation of a new office, such as Supervision of Custom House Cobwebs, Keeper of the Water Tanks, or Statistician of Distilled Spirits consumed by Revenue Officers during the ensuing fiscal year, and then, on condition that he will never show his face in my office again, I will appoint your California offering to the place. Your disgusted friend and servant, MOSES." When the President read this epistle, he was so agitated that he put the lighted end of his segar in his mouth, but did not discover his mistake until Secretary FISH observed the ashes coming from his nose, and with an air of mock solicitude asked: "Does your Excellency experience any internal symptoms of a volcanic character, for I perceive that the crater is working?" pointing to the Presidential olfactory, while the owner sneezed a fresh volley of ashes through it. "It don't make any difference if I do," tartly responded ULYSSES, "but I tell you what it is, FISH, I'm going to build a little volcano under MOSE GRINNELL'S chair that'll 'hist' _somebody_ when it breaks out." Saying which he threw the late Collector's missive towards the piscatorial premier, and hurriedly left the room. The above is a genuine narrative, collected from authoritative data, and may be relied upon when all other means of ascertaining the truth fail. Yours, historically, DICK TINTO. * * * * * THE WATERING PLACES. PUNCHINELLO'S VACATIONS. On the portico of the Mountain House, in the Catskills, Mr. PUNCHINELLO had the honor of being welcomed by Prof. AGASSIZ, Mr. P. had just arrived, and his valise was in his hand; but the Professor insisted on a little conversation with him. "In spite of the crowds at these summer resorts," said this learned man, "one seldom meets with any one who takes an interest in science."