The sun., 1901-08-11

FUN THE BOYs HAVE ALONG
THE EAST RIVER SHORE.

4
! Hundreds Leaning 70 Swim LIKE Flshe1
Though Mothcss Very ard Pesaccnes
| tnase -Deilshts q . Bath n For
biddeo spst East nivcr PARK Scones'
New York isnr tho best Of summer re-
sorts for children. still II has its merits.
Tho scrupulously neat and painfully re-
spectablc little boy doesn't got rnuoh out
OF city summer; but the small hoodlum
and the younsstsr who doesn't allow family
traditions and prejudloes TO trammcl his
boyhood do not pine for frosh-alr resorts
with the mighty longing accredited to
them by thoir elders.
1t all dcpends upon the quarter OF town
IN which one lives. and tho boys desirable
residence district Isn't bounded like the
charmed circle ia which oil the rich and
great and their understu1es would fain
huddle tossther. Parts Of the lowor East
Side arc Undesirable. but, then. 30 arc parts
OF Fifth avsnue. TIE great question b,
DO you 1--we near the rivor, and is good
swimming place within walking distan 90
OF your house, or. II not, hsve you the prioe
OF frequent street oar farss7
OF oourse, II one's mother won't allow
one TO swirn. and maternal vigilance V
greater than nlia elusiveno.s.. one might
a. web bo In the country: but the little boy
who 10 free a. alr or who can always ex-
change . swim for licking; the boy whose
BODY u Drowned BY the sun, whose muscles
are hrm, whose heart u light and whose
swimming proweas ID the admiration and
| envy OF the other boys-let no owner OF
yacht and a country homo and liver
presume to pity him.
Just TO sail up the East River or wander
along the waterfront and $50 tho gliatening
wet brown lads clAmbenng along the piers
| or tho shore or splAAhine through the water
and shouting for sheer Joy In living is
enough to mako Wall Street magnate
iong. Tor boyhood and vasabondia. There
arc hundreds Of the urchins all along the
riverside now-a-dap. Nine-tenths Of
thcm swim like Ash. The rcst arc man.
fully striving toward tho goal Probably
there are hundreds Of mothers at homo
worrying their hearts out and shaking at
shadows, but than that In the prioe one
pays Tor the Joy OF being the mother OF q
boy. The wise mother docs ner trembling
In private and oounsels caution, not absti.
nence, for the boy will 60, and It's part
OF wisdom not to forbid the inevitable.
There was q mother up at East River
Park the other day who hadn't mastered
that bit Of divine philosophy She was one
OF the clucking ,nothers, who should have
brought into Tho world only tow-headed,
fat pudgy, doll-loving little girls, but who,
by some ruling of providence. had been
made responsible FOR two red-headed,
freokled-faoed, wiry small boys When q
BUN reporter encountered her she had one
OF the boys In tow. He was preternaturally
slick and clean, and he loathed il in his soul
Even tho folds Of his spotless shirt waist
spoke OF sukiness, and he looked at the
dirty, ragged youngsters playing around
the base OF the hill a. damned soul might
look at the blessed.
The reporter was leaning over tho railing
that skirts tho sea wall on the bend ct
the end Of Ninetieth street. Down below,
long way below, was triangular pieee
Of ground, covered by weeds and green
grass through which gray rock cropped
up and glistened In the sun. The water,
edged BY big rugged rocks made the
hypothehuse Of the triangle. On one
side, the high brick wall Of the grounds
Of the House Of the Good shepherd fenced
N the plot. On the street side a picket
fence climbed from the low ground until
1t frowned high above the street.
On that triangle boys were forbidden
to play: Ergo, the three-cornered plot
swarmed with boys. Across Ninetieth
street. the Park rolled away In inviting
shade and greenness There were little
| R1TB tneF0, anu uttit DOyb tOO--Ilttl6 DOy0
who didn't dast to climb the FENCE a.
one urchin scornfilly explained.
But down In the triangle were the hardy
souls. The rocks were brown with them,
the water was alive with them. There were
magerful boys Of IL or u, and wee lads
Of T. There were boys who were verita-
Bile water rats, and boys who found a SOL
emn and fearful Joy In wading out until
the water reached their chins and then
harnicallv d,ckfnO THAR haaHa
No chorus girls green room. between
scenes, ever showed such continuous and
lightning change costuming as did those
rocks In every orevice lay heaps Of clothes
"A harvest OF shoes and stockings was
soattered on the grass Bathing suits
% wcrs not % In ., order Why attempt nns t e i'm; I'M,
the boys who had no fear Of parental ven-
geanoe. They stripped Of their clothes In
leisurely fashNea and put thcm away care
fully. Then they tumbled into the water
and idled about In It, as those who have
long hours Of delight before them.
But there were other boys who slipped
an apprehensive look toward the picket
fence, who played In the water furiously
a. though obliged to cram a days hap
piness into one golden quarter hour, who
scrambled out and climbed all wet into their
clothes, and then swarmed over the picket
fence, with certain bredthlesSne6s that
didn't leave them until they were dis
creetly seated on the grass under one Of
the big elm trees In the park
Even boys who didn't swim climbed
into the triangle. Perhaps they were
afraid OF the water, Perhaps they had
lively memories Of past punishment But
they couldn't rcsist the dare of the high
picket fence, 40 they climbed II and lay
among the grass and weeds watching the
swimmers, or chased the butterflies that
are uncommonly thick over that patch Of
ground, though not to be seen In the park.
Perhaps the triangle Is forbidden land to
butterflies a. well "a to boys.
The reporter was immensely Interested
In a butterfly chase, when the clucking
mother and her one suiky chick came up
and stood beside him. A very small. very
fat boy, with battered tin pan, was chas-
ing a particularly aggravating white but
terny score Of times he brought down
the pan, with a yell Of triumph. A score
OF times he lifted the pan and found no
winged thing under 1t, while the butterfly
fluttered its wings impudently at him from
a neighboring weed.
-Id Just like to know where that boy
has gone, cluclscd throaty voice. i don't
see how ever missed him.
"Lost a boy7" asked the reporter reluct-
antly Withdrawing his attention from tho
chase
-Yes, he. gone ofr'in me, and can't find
him nowhere. just stopped TO speak 70
Miss Gutner, and he wns gono that quick.
The sulky chicken, who had dropped
behind his mother. looked at the reporter
and grinncd--n grin of appreciation OF his
- - II.