It is as though one's natural aversion to tomatoes had gradually changed
to liking, and then an untimely autumn frost had come, to anticipate the
gardener and the air-tight can.
These foreigners are so different from the Americans!
During the Rebellion--a comparatively staid and respectable affair--a
correspondent, after the first two years, became so expert as to
anticipate battles, and knew as much about war as a general. War news
and buckwheat cakes enlivened the matutinal meal. The chances pro and
con gave a zest to conversations else intolerably dull. The war was an
Institution.
But see how it is in Europe.
In '66, they spirted away for six weeks and stopped. And now, after a
similar splurge, they have as good as stopped once more. The
correspondents just sent over by our "enterprising" newspapers, are
hardly yet recovered from their sea-sickness. Just as they begin to
sharpen their pencils, presto! the war is over, and the occupation of
these hardy gentlemen is gone.
Can nothing be done about this? If a protest--"firm and
dignified"--would really do no good, what about some _new_ excitement,
which, as every one knows, we _must_ have or perish! Will no other
jealous contiguous nations fall out? Must we fall out ourselves?
Election is still a good way off, and, really, we don't see what's to be
done. Fights are few, and suicides are falling off. The Indians are
disgustingly peaceful, and even the Mormons have subsided.
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