The Daily Dispatch: March 16, 1861., [Electronic resource]

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March.

--The March of the present season is performed in the style of a forcible but unskilled orchestra, with discordant wind instruments. Its outset was peaceful, and very like a lamb, which soon, however, became an unmanageable weather; and then the blustering railer at the head of the band swelled out his cheeks and blew such a blast that all nature was chilled, and the unfolding buds and blossoms shrank from the rude encounter, while the spring birds flew back to their nests from whence the sunbeams had tempted them, and settled down as snug as a bug in a rug.--Not satisfied with such an infernal demonstration, the Maestro Boreas sounded the call for the return of winter, and the strong-minded old women from the North, who are said to pass the icy months in the refined occupation of picking geese, sent down a shower of those feathers of which the grim frost-king makes his bed, and the gusty thieves had a fresh blow-out on the occasion. The visit, however, was of brief duration.--The snow scattered itself about with a looseness on Thursday night, but the morning found only a few patches here and there, rapidly dissolving into mud. Thus has March so far deported itself with its usual warlike characteristics. Whether it will depart like unto a lion or a lamb, remains yet to be developed.