The sun., 1902-03-09
FIRST roUCH or sPRINe.


Came Ia Line . Lsssb.
March came in like a lamb. Its first
day was more like the list OF May than
the ist Of March.
Persons acquainted with the peculiarities
OF the season that New York and New
England call spring knew that there was .
full month Of winter yet to come, but even
such knowing ones yielded TO the unseason-
able charm of the day. All the indications
were springlike.
Fifth avenue from end to end was flooded
with a soft misty sunshine; steeples and
tall buildings stood out clear through their
aerial bath of liquid blue; every distant
object In the long ur ban vistas was trimmed
with warm color; Murray Hill dazzled the
eyes Of the beholder with the shine OF coach
tops and the CLINT Of metallic trappings
on carriages and harness.
Tho whole great thoroughfare was filed
for hours with movement and hustle. Far
north bristled the woodland wall Of Central
Park In dim softened outline against the
soft sky, and still further north was
DINNER mass Of Quakerish gray, the tops
of the more distant woodlands Of the Park.
The whole atmosphere was full Of that
subtle suggestion of impending change
that comes with the approach Of spring.
The English sparrows chirped a tenderer
note, the song sparrow tee-heed from the
bare twig as IL there were to be no more
cold and snowy days.
The punctual crocuses appeared above
ground with tightly folded cones that in
few days will unsbeathe their hidden cups
Of orange and white and purple. The
| exotic starlngs of Central Park and the
suburbs sweetened the wind with their
, soft fittings.
Wild ducks SKINNED the harbor on swift
| wings, putting to shame the slow and waver-
! ing flight Of the gulls. Human beings
moved In unison with the vagrant spirit
in the air, felt the spring fever in their
| bones.
Men and women went about without
their wraps and everybody complained
! Of the heat. Diana, summing her golden
| skin on her airy perch, seemed the only
seasonably dressed person in town.
AL the watercourses OF all the parks
| lent full-throated voices to swell the spring
| like chorus The Bronx, n yellow flood,
which obliterated all landmarks Of it's
| accustomed course, swept into Bronx
| Park a roaring torrent, ragged in thun-
| derous anger over the dam below the Lor-
| illard house and shot with treble It's ordi-
| nary speed down the narrow defile OF the
| gorge beyond, bearing on it's bosom sticks
and straws and planks and even whole trees
debris gathered in it's mad fight for dozen
miles above
That delightful bit Of Central Park which
| lies between the dense woodland OF the
northwestern limits and McGowan's Pass
| Tavern was babel of torrential voices All
| the little streams that net that part OF
| the Park g,ished and roared and gurgled
| and foamed speaking all the known tongues
native to flowing water
Whoever sat in silence and listened heard
| scarce aught but that liquid chorus, or
| more accurately liquid orchestra, with the
| base Of the larger stream, the fute notes
| OF the rills that were fretted In their course
| by rocky impediments and the thick fast
! coming throaty tones OF the tiny waterfalls,
| which fell in rocky caverns and were echoed
| and reverberated by their enclosing walls.
| The universal cry Of the loosened streams,
| the pleasant warmth of the damp air, and
the tender blue Of the sky, seen through
| the dense tracery of bare boughs, seerei
to proclaim mid-April rather than the
| first day of March
Men watclei TIE skies all day with
ama7 erent and said that cold winds would
come with the approach Of night, but even
ing came with the air still mild and at night
the streets were thronged with men ana
women who wondered at the soft charac-
ter of air and sky. The streets were dry
as in MAY and Fifth avenue, with its soft
electric moons and its host of gliding cabs
and carriages and automobiles and its hum
ming crowd of pedestrians, suggested its
own summer aspect.