The first day of Spring (well, the vernal equinox, anyway) was one of dazzling sun but roaring gales, making it hard to regret a missed park excursion. In the Lenten spirit of reparation, I offer this "day story" from the Brooklyn Eagle on March 13, 1899. (Although the earliest Spring equinox is March 19 for this and the previous millenium, the Eagle freely names the previous day as the "first day of spring"; did our more technical attachment to the vernal equinox come later in journalistic history, and if so, how did our forebears in the Gay Nineties set the date?) (Also note reference to the "bard of Prospect Park," showing that heavy-handed journalistic irony is nothing new.)
"All of a sudden the life in Prospect Park seemed to have jumped over several months. A continuous procession of folks afoot came in the main entrance. Seats on the sun benches were at a premium. Troops of children scrambled under the trees regardless of patches of snow still lingering. Younger children, in infant carriages, were being trundled about in bevies, for it was a day pleasant enough to risk the most delicate child out for a long airing.
It was at the boulevard entrance to the park that you realized the extent of this spring parade. Road house people and tavern keepers early in the day had prepared for a rush. They were not disappointed. Bicycle clubs came out for their first runs. The path teemed with wheelmen, many of whom were out to test their new '99 models. The driveway was almost congested.
Observation...would have led you to believe that it was a rare day in June instead of the first flush of spring time. All regular summer types were conspicuous--the man with the bicycle face, who guzzled his summer drink and dashed off again down the path at a scorching gait; the lackadaisical summer girl in the transmigratory stage flaunted a gay colored sunshade and displayed her Easter bonnet; sportsmen feeling good over the advent of a season prospectively prosperous sat about and chatted contentedly; a stray member of some riding club bounced by at a trot. Everywhere were people you don't meet until there comes a more salubrious tone to the weather...the horses must have felt the inspiriting touch of spring, too, for they moved at a ready pace."
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