Central Park Concert

“Manhattan Island has been not ineptly compared, by an excellent though somewhat fanciful writer, to a huge monster of nearly turtle shape, of which Bowling Green may be supposed to represent the mouth, Broadway the long, irregular throat, and Central Park the lungs, by a trip to which the New Yorker once a week inhales a whiff of unadulterated oxygen, thereby and with that single whiff recuperating the waste of a whole week’s vitality; and if to the whiffing in of pure oxygen, not obtainable by other means, be added the element of music on the Mall or the more romantic element of music on the Lake, the denizen of the metropolis may be persuaded to visit the Park on other days besides Saturday. Owing to the fact that the wind, raw and gusty, blustered somewhat Boreally yesterday, by way of insinuation that November might soon be expected, the concourse around the Lake yesterday was not large, notwithstanding the fact that the day was a music day. A considerable number had, however, gathered about the little sheet of water hight the Lake, whence, at three o’clock P. M. broke strains of music, guided by a well selected programme, consisting of operatic morceaux from ‘Fra Diavolo,’ ‘Crispino e la Comare’ and other oft heard operas, with which the musical bill of fare was introduced. A mélange of waltz and polka, mingled with German and Italian, followed, and was finally superseded by something more distinctly national and American in its mould [sic]. The airs of 1861-66 have not yet ceased to be the mode especially when the popular taste is to be pleased, as was demonstrated by the introduction of several airs oft quoted and often sung. ‘Rally round the Flag,’ without which no popular menu could be considered complete, found a place on the musical docket of the occasion—though ‘Yankee Doodle’ has been voted too superannuated for present application. An hour and a half was devoted to the concert, during which belles simpered and flirted, beaus ogled with opera glass, and more earnest lovers walked and wooed, though not as the poet has it, in ‘forgotten language.”