The Daily Dispatch: April 19, 1862., [Electronic resource]

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The Weather

at the present time surely deserves a paragraph; for, since April is proverbially a fickle month, we may shortly expect a pluvial dispensation, whether the almanacs prophesy it or not, and we must take advantage of the brief period of sunshine to pay a compliment to Dame Nature before she gets in a contrary mood. ‘"Of all the months that fill the year, give April's month to me, for earth and sky are then so filled with sweet variety."’ So wrote a sentimental lady, and we think she was about right. There is much to admire in the bursting buds and springing grass, in the rose-tinted apple blossoms and the pearly hue of the pear tree. The days are not oppressively hot, nor the nights musical with mosquitoes. We can drink hydrant water without ice, which is satisfactory when nothing stronger can be obtained. The little birds pour out their sweetest notes, and young chickens begin to make their appearance in the farm-yards, if not on the city tables. If the etherial blue of the sky is somewhat obscured by dust, as it was yesterday, it makes but little difference, for any little drawback to personal comfort from that cause is fully made up by the amusement we derive from the antics of pedestrians, male and female. Finally, were the blessings vouchsafed to us in this beautiful month not marred by the enactment of scenes to which we, as a people, are not accustomed, there would be upon the face of humanity as bright a smile as we have seen for two days past upon the face of nature.