The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1897-09-30

night through and all the day, too, In
told.
Greater New York is city OF parks.
Central Park in New York and Pros
pect Park in Brooklyn are the larges,
But there is a great number Of smaller
ones-public squares-in all parts ol
the city. In the evening they are the
great resorts for the poorer class oI
people-those who cannot afford the
more expensive luxury Of a theatre
There are thousands Of seats scattered
along the maze of asphalt walks and
young and old people alike are there
to occupy them. In an elegant pa
wilton one Of the military bands plays
clsasic music, waltzes, operate pieces
and what uot-from "Schubert's Sere-
made" to "Mr. Johnson Turn me
Aloose" while the public sits on
walks round the square, the men in
many cases wearing tai! silk hats and
black coats and the women, for great
part, dressed in Partisan costumes tina,
SAVIOR Of excess and are plinly the ex-
,ravagant models of some East!s,de
dealer.
Among the wearers of these things,
though, are many beautiful women and
it is a pleasure to sit and see them
pass, and attribute to them in fancy
all the moral and intellectual qualities
which you have long ago learned they
too seldom have in reality.
With these finely dressed men and
women are interspersed-if such a
term may be used touching those who
form the great majority-men in work
ing clothes and plainly clad women
with touseled hair and hardened fea-
tures These things mark to some
extent the differentiation Of classes.
But this is American and no city on
the continent is more Democratic than
New York. All have exactly the same
rights and privileges and mingle to-
gether in perfect equality.
X X
But all people do not own fine
horses and swell turnouts, with stolid-
faced men in livery, SO the drive in
Central Park is not SO Democratic.
As the sun nears the Western horizon
and the cool breezes spring up, the
Four Hundred leave their palaces in
the city and in brilliant equipages roll
stately in slow lines along the trimmed
avenues of the Park, while the -Four
Million-with weary, dusty feet-sit
on benches to see them pass.
And here we sit till the soft twilight
tints give place to the glare Of electric
lights. Only now and then the rum
BILE of wheels is heard as glittering
carriage flashes beneath lamp. We
turn to the city again to see this same
Four Hundred sparkle and murmur in
their opera boxes. Even to the pea
nut gallery, where fifty cents admits
US, their splendor dazzles. We gaze
and wonder and admire-and why1
Is i, servility? Is it mean admi-
ration of mean things? Are we lack
eys who love to wear livery? Not
so, ween. Rather is it not the ample
resources, the boundless opportunities
that these favorites Of fortune enjoy,
that we worship? 1t is not what they
are but what we believe them to be
that we admire. In our pinched,
plodding lives we invest their existence
with an ideal charm. For one brief
moment-amid light and splendor,
perfume and music-we dream. The
charmed life is real. Those glittering
figures are not what Circe's wand
might show them to be. They are
gods and goddesses feasting. and we
feign ourselves possible !xions to be
admitted to the celestial banquet.
All, the day has ended, and we find
ourselves jostled by a motely crowd
down a dimlylighted stairway, and
wondering where we can get cheap
lunch.
Few Of the best theatres are yet open
and fewer new plays have been put on.
To Vaudeville shows there
is no end, and never were there better
ones. Then attached to the more
pretentious saloons there arc beer gar
dens in which continuous performances
are going on, In aspacious hall in the
rear of the saloon are tables and chairs,
sufficient to accommodate hundreds Of
people. At these tables are seated
men and women, eating, drinking aid
flirting promiscuously. All the eve
ming an orchestra, in the best class Of
these places, makes the high ceiling
re-echo, now with gay waltz, now with
Wagnerian fragment. No admission
is ever charged, but if you 60 in you
are expected to buy at least one glass.
II you remain long without doing this
a waiter tells you no loafers are want
ed.
The next most popular amusement
of the average New Yorker. after bee'
drinking, which is the first and las'
and most persistently popular, IS bl
cycling. Everybody who can AFFORD
it rides a wheel-rich and poor, ole
and young. The boulevards ant
parks every afternoon are crowded
Costumes Of all sorts and styles art
seen-baggy bloomers, close httln:
knickerbockers, long skirts, shor
skirts, divided skirts, almost no skirts
And a fine show these blue-eyed Van
kee girls with shapely limbs, make ~
ing along the smooth pavements.
FRED l.. MERRITT.