The New York herald. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1840-1920, 1872-06-03

Inc average New Yorker enjoys sunday with o.
zest and nationality that are worthy otimtation In
every city OF the Union The grim solemnity OF the
Puritan Sabbath and the demure correctness OF the
Quaker Holy Day are to him matters OF far Off
origin, to be read about, probably but not to be
Initiated. The reckless indecorum OF London holi-
day and the rollicking hurrah OF the Donnybr0ok
jublees OF Dublin equally foreign to his TASTE
He strikes happy mean between the Mighty
dissipation OF the French and the solid
recreation OF the German, and while getting his
full moneys worth OF enjoyment avoids the deple-
ton OF pocket and dulness OF brain that wait upon
the Engshman and the aching head and bruised
bones that attend the Irishman. At the door OF the
New Yorker are all the allurements of country air
and salt sea adventure. There is necessity for
him to conflne his Sunday pleasure to his church
pew in the morning or the barroom in the after.
noon. The garden spots OF nature invite him on
every sidc Old Ocean rolls up to his feet. Sandy
beaches, where the surf awaits his plunge,
Shoals of fish hover about the banks, apparently
waiting for him to come and take them. In
twenty minutes he can take himself beyond the
brick and mortar, the sights and swells the blister
Ing pavements and the heated atmosphere OF the
city, and shake OF their unpleasant influences as
completely as If he had buried himself in the wild
forests Of the West or among the deep jungles OF
India. In twenty minutes he can betake himself to
the bosom of Old Ocean, tOmpletely out OF sight
OF land and snutng as pure sea air and rolling as
furo usly upon the billowy main as if he were half
way across the Atlantic. or If no have eye for
nature more adorned by art or for the grand
achievements Of man In architecture, in twenty
minutes he can delight his soul with a view OF the
beautiful villas on the Hudson, the fine public
buildings on the East River islands, the famous
High Bridge, or lose himself among the refnements
and ruggedness OF Central Park. With these al
lurements at his hand and with his own sensible
idea of Sunday as day Of rest and recreation, the
average New Yorker was ont on his various saun-
terings yesterday to the number, probably, Of fay
thousand.
Greenwood, the silent capital OF the dead, was
visited by thousands some TO shea tear and adorn
with fresh spring flowers the graves of dear friends,
others to wander amid the hills and valleys
wherein the dead have taken mp their resting
place Thousands, passing Greenwood, wendell
their jolly way to that Bowery of bathing places
Coney Island. where the unculturcd honesty of the
city every summer Sunday takes its dip in the
the monte men on the beach. Thousands
sailed over to Staten Island, with its en-
powered glens and summer gardens Thousands
more steamed up East River to the bridges over
the Harlem, and to the beautiful hamlets dotting
the people betook themselves to their own hand
some flower garden to their own cooperative door
est have a like interest; whore every humble
visitor, as well as every wealthy one, can say,
"Thls Is my own. These lawns, this lake, yonder
cascade, this handsome MALL the croquet
ground where my girls are playing, That
bali ground where my son Is learn
ing his first lessons In the national
game, these animals this stately museum building,
these screaming eagles all belong to me. Observe
my playful sea lions. by the way. Come into my
menagerie and punch my tiger with your stick.
These are all mine. Come over next Saturday and
Ill nave my band play for YOU" All the visitors to
Central Park yesterday who have any OF the finer
elements OF imagination In their souls felt just this
delicious sense OF pioprietorship in the vast bower
OF beauty And there we're probably thirty thousand
visitors in all. crowds as usual pressed about the
trough, and great crowds wandered over the com
Shakespeare came in Tor a great share of admra-
ton. Thoughtful people sat at some distance away
from it and gaZed at this figure Of the princely
bard, Mt his high brow. his meditative attitude,
his closed book, and half suspected that 1t the
man himself and that he would speak or move on
presently. 1t would be glorious to see the Shaks
peare himself, to hear his voice, to gather fresh
wisdom from the lips that spoke so much, to enter
view" the very ideal of all interviewers
that people In gazing upon his counterfeit present
ment let their Imagination steal away their Senses
and awOke to the reality OF block OF bronze with
sense of keen disappointment
The carriages In the Park were numerous and
handsome. They wound their way In review along
the Mall, and with their occupants, offered mag
nilceIt spectacle to the pedestrians ranged around
the terrace. The day closed and the refreshed visi
tors with sense OF weariness or OF dulled heads,
or OF day lost turned themselves homeward, with
@ heartfelt THANK Heaven for Central Park.n