The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1868-08-20
NEW YORKISMS.
from our O,On Correspondent.
vhs Parks, Moon and N,sht.

She NOON ana
So many homicides have lately occurred here
that the newspapers and Police Courts expect
shortly to chronicle the old average Of murder
day. But these mainly occur in the low lager
beer saloons, or are the offspring of street
brawls, and almost never committed where one
would look for them, within the DARK pullleus
of the parks which are met with at intervals
throughout the city. In fact, these parks, OF
which propose to say few words, are in the
main orderly places, at least upon the surface.
Whatever disorderliness may reign there Is
manifested only at such times as the
detectives are believed to be ab,ent
and the regular uniformed patrolmau is sure to
be. Whatever vagabonds OF demirep5 resort
there keep their purposes privately to them
selves, or reveal them only to those whom a sort
of magnetism in evil induces them to believe are
willing 10 become partners. Day and night the
sight In the parks, when the weather is fine, Is
Instructive so far as the knowledge of that class
of human nature which loafs Is concerned. Day
and night men, women, and youths occupy the
exaggerated tosd-stools which represent the
last attsinable point OF excellence in public
seats, and bask in the sun light or the gas leht
as though the loa6ng-world bad resolved itself
into one vast sitting match, the sole AN Otion o
each of whose members was TO out-sit all the
others.
The principal OF these Parks are four in nun
ber, viz. City Hall, Washington, Union, and
Madison. City Hall Park is triangular in form
and bounded by Broadway on the West, Cham
bers street on the norih, and Park Row and
Centre street on the southeast. It's area is ten
acres, and it includes within its limits the old
and new City Halls, and one of the largest
fountains (when it is going) in the country, the
circumference of the basin being three hundred
feet. The jets are lotus-shaped, the rim is of
white marble, and the usual green garniture of
shrubs shrouded in leaves, invite the attention
of the boot blacks, who make this locality their
headquarters. Long years ago, beyond the
memory, l suspect, of any who will read this,
City Hall Park used 10 be known as the Fields
or Commons. Military drills we're perrorme
there, and between the Brick Church
and Broadway the first brigade of tn o
American army heard the Declaration OF Inde.
pendence read, July 9, 1776. The new Post
Office will occupy the southern end OF it. At
present very little grass and good deal of
gravel are to be seen. Ne wsboys and bootblacks
gather on the steps of the City Hall and around
the fountain, as thick as qualls, so that it be-
comes dangerous for man who loves quietne's
to walk through those parts without shoes or
q
which the shining face of colored Moses, fresh
from the Mount, would be dull be ide. The
bootblacks of The Park are of an eminently con-
fding and convvial nature. The one with whom
/ last had the pleasure of converslng, informed
me on the first moment of our acquaintance
that he always dined at Delmonico'5 when he
came to the city. and that his favorite repast
consisted of bootleg coffee and double-breasted
doughnuta.
The boundaries of this park-Chambers street
Centre street. Park Row, and Broad way are at
present the most bewilderng blocks that l
know of in the city. In the first place, Broad
way is being repaved, and the PAYERS are just
in the middle of their W ork, between the Astor
House and Centre street. The route of all the
stages coming down wards is thus forced into
Chambers street, Centre street, Park Row, and
the tangle of small streets ad acent. The
large space Immediately opposite the Astor
House, and at the southern angle Of the park,
has long been used as the rendezvous for the
horse-cars from YoIkvilIe, Harlem, and the
routes along the avenues N the eastern side of
the city. Hence, what with the hubbub of the
PAYERS on the one side, and, on the other, the
interminging of the wheel.groans OF
the stages, and the bel-jiuglings of the
horse cars, and the oaths of the
respective drivers and conductors Of both, and
the shrill cries of the newsboys Ceiling the
Nelos sometimes at the seductive bargain OF
''two for cenp0 and the jabbering Billings
gate OF the women who vend raspberry juice1
lemonade and penny ballads, to say nothing OF
the roar.crested breakers OF sound that perpetu-
ally come surging up from beneath Fulton
street bridge-that metropolitan maelstrom-
what with all these, l say the vicinity of City
Hall Park, during the busy hours of the day, is
far from being a sweet boon to quiet man.
Each of these four parks which have men
toned has its characteristics. Washington
Park, formerly known as the Potter's Field is
one OF the largest in the city, its area being
nine and three'quarter acres. 1t is well
shaded, well fountained, lies in front of the
New York University, and IS bounded by Wa
verly Place, and McDouga Fourth, and Woos-
ter streets. While used as a Potter's Field
more than 1875 900 bodies were buried there, and
now that its function in that departments over,
it is almost quiet as though its few visitors
had voluntarily buried themselves alive, aud
each toad-stool had become the synecdoche
for one of those catalepsy collins which
the morbid invention of Edgar Allen
Poe somewhere alludes to. The walks are
being regarded and reshaded. Sometimes a boy
will troll his hoop or guide his velocpele there
but not often. For some cause or other it ap
pears to be dangerous for respectable man, ol
more particularly respectable woman to bt
seated in this Park at late hour at night, anC
there are imaginable circumstances which
would eXDlain even n resnectahla womanjS ner