Central Park Concert

“Whoever loves the pure and sweet enjoyment of a rural atmosphere, or the picturesque coloring of the year, when the slowly folding beauties of summer linger lovingly in the sober embrace of autumn; or who ever loves to stand upon the lake shore and listen to the melody of Dodworth’s music stealing in measured or fitful cadences across the placid waters, should have visited the Park yesterday and reaped a share of pleasure truly unalloyed. The weather was eminently desirable; a bright sun and cloudless sky above, while the dancing air had just sufficient snap to give it a refreshing elasticity. The Drive, the Terrace, the Ramble and the Lake shore were each alike a scene of animation. The whirl of vehicles passing and repassing the upper end of the Ramble was no less bewildering than the endless variety of cut and color in the toilets of the ladies. These were indescribably diversivied (the toilets, not the ladies). However, if such a thing as free trade in fashion has come into vogue, yesterday must have been the opening day. The lake was of course the great centre of attraction—the floating centre—and all because Dodworth and his musical staff were there floating about also, and if it was fashionable to go anywhere the lake was the very place. The barge containing the musical freight drifted about lazily, as though the pilot wars lost, not in the lake, but in the strains of the music. Anon the boatman roused himself up and giving a vigorous pull at the paddles shot under the Rialto (it now has a name) into the lower lake, to the consternation of the swans, but to the delight of many ladies gathered on the far off beach, who had hitherto been vainly striving to catch the delightful quartets of Kriger. Here in the barge, under the shelter of an awning, the band sent forth successively across the lake selections from Maria di Rohan, Lucia di Lammermoor, two quartets from Kriger Morning Star Waltz, selections from Lurline, winding up with a pot pourri of exquisitely cooked stew of melody. When the mellow sun descended the Park began to lose its temporary population, and the strains of music erst so distinct abided, but in memory.”