THE BATTALION.
A Junior’s Reverie.
OR twenty-seven minutes I have bothered my pen without
1. writing a single letter. Thoughts crowd thick and fast into
my mind, but I’m unable to decide which to accept as a subject
for this occasion. I glance out of the window in dispair, but
am revived by the beautifulness of the all-surrounding nature.
I now see some small stars peeping out from some gold-
bordered clouds, beneath which lie some stratus clouds streaked
with crimson. A striking contrast to the diamond on the
bosom of a princess. Sweet perfumes are wafted to me by the
gentle winds from the clover beds and blooming orchards.
All nature seems to invite me to enter into a prolonged dis
course. Shall I accept it for my subject? No, it will never do
—the portals of nature have been open to mortal man from
time immemorial. Every public and private citizen, from a
sheep-herder to the greatest statesman, that ever lived has ex
patiated and ‘mrated” upon nature; so it would be impossible
for me to discover anything in the field of nature.
I know that I must have something original, new, and in
teresting to meet the demands of my readers, and I promise to
satisfy every demand if I can, but decide upon a subject.
Since I have been writing two opposing thoughts have
met: one, is of the good old times when gods came to earth
and mingled with men; the other has thrown scenes of horror
upon the curtains of an otherwise happy intellect. My blood
freezes and each particular hair stands on end when I view the
center diamond of the grand necklace that encircles the gulf of
Mexico, as it is parched to a brittle cake, and the fermenting
of the sickened bring waters, which were compelled to swallow
up the products of treachery.
But as distance lends murder to the scene, and as a nearer
view is probable it is useless to write more.
But now a new idea strikes me—the subject of mtemper-