The evening times., 1900-03-17
MIDWINTER IN NEW YORK.
4 Writers Early Impressions of the
Metropolis.

tJaCub y Riis IN the tCntuTy.t
The very earliest impression / received Of
Americas metropolis was through a print
in my childs pictufe-bOOk that was enti-
tied Winter in New York 1t showed a
sleighing party. or half a dozen such muf-
fled TO the ears in furs, and racing with
grim determination for some place or other
that lay beyond the page wrapped in the
mystery which so tickles the childish fan
cy For il was clear to me that it was not
accident that they were all going the same
way There was evidently some prize
away of there in the waste of snow that
beckOned them on. The text gave me 70
CIew TO what it was. Ii only confirmed the
impression which was strengthened by the
introduction OF a half naked savage who
shiyered most woefuIly in the foreground
that New York was somewhere within the
arctic circle and perfect paradise for a
healthy boy. who takes 10 snow as natu-
rally as a duck takes to water. | DO not
know how the discovery that they were
probably making fer Cabe Cases and his
bottle OF champagne. which always awaited
the first sleigh on the road. would have
struck me in those days Most likely as
a grieyous disappointment; for my fancy.
busy ever with Uncas and Chingachcook
and Natty Bumppo had certainly a buffalo
hunt or an ambush, or. at the very least.
a big fire. ready at the end Of the road. But
such is life. Its most cherished hOpss have
to be surrendered one by one 10 the prOsy
facts of everyday existence. ! recall dis
tinctly how it cut me to the heart when
I first walked up broadway, with an i'm
mense navypistol strapped around my
waist to find il a paved street. actually
paved. with no buffaloes in sight and rot
red man or a beaver-hut
ffa tae cot lore. saf
so. At fifty / am as willing TO surrender
the arctic circle as I was hopeful OF it
at ten, with the price of cOal in the
chronic plight of my little boy when he has
a troublesome hitch in his trousers: "Oh.
dear me, my pants hangs up and dol't
hang down And Gabe Cases is a most
welcome exchange to me for the ambush.
since | have left out the pistol end the
rest of the armament. / listen TO the
stories Of the oldest inhabtant OF the
winters when the snow lay to the second
story windows In the Bowery, with the
feryent wish that they may never come
back and secretly giOat over his vail that
the seasons have changed and are not what
they were. The man who eXuberantly pro
claims that New York Is getting to have
the finest winterresort climate in the
world is my friend. and | dc not care if
| never see another SNOWFALL. Alas yes,
though DeeTSlayer and ! are still on the
old terms. fear the evidence is that /
am growing old.
In the midst OF the rejoicing comes old
Bcreas. as last winter. fer instance. aad
blows down my house of cards. Just whel
we thought ourselves safe in referring TO
the great blizzard as d mUnstTous. uuheard-
OF thing ard were dwelling securely in the
memory OF how we gathered violets in the
woods cut in Queens and killed mosquitoes
in the house in Christmas week, comes
grim winter and locks the rivers and
buries us up TO the neck in snow, before
the Thanksgiving dinner is cold Then the
seasons when Gabe's much bottle
stood unclaimed on the shelf in its bravery
of fine ribbons till far into the New Year.
aud was won then literally by scratch
on road hardly downy with white, seem
like tale that is told, and we Tealize that
latitude does not unaided make temper
ature Ii is only in exceptional winters
after all. that We class for brief spell
with Naples Greenland and the polar
stream are never long in asserting their
claim and Santa Slaus' to unchecked
urogress to our hearths.