286 CITY PARKS. 



\ oiid running back to seemingly unknown distances, who 

 will picture it truly ? There is dignity, there is breadth, 

 repose, restfulness, and yet a sense of isolation that is not 

 absolute. It is genuine park scenery that the eye is 

 tempted to linger on and the foot to walk on, and presents, 

 if viewed as a single feature, one of the best examples we 

 have of good park- work. 



In May the bright costumes of numerous tennis players 

 enliven its surface and attract many interested spectators. 

 But to me it is more attractive when it lies in unbroken 

 rest in the shimmering atmosphere of an autumn day with 

 the red and gold of the maples and hickories framing and 

 brightening its greensward. 



Leaving the large suggestion of breadth and distance of 

 the North Meadow, we pass up the West Drive to the 

 Highlands of the park. As we cross the bridge spanning 

 the stream which flows out of the pool of water near Eighth 

 Avenue and 100th Street, called the Pool, we look in au- 

 tumn on a splendid hillside of blood-red sumach, and turn- 

 ing the other way we see a rock-bordered stream winding 

 along a forest-covered hillside. It is all charmingly wild 

 and picturesque. When we reach the top of the great hill 

 crowned with native trees we turn up a wide drive to the 

 Circle a small open space of road, greensward, and digni- 

 fied elms. 



Turning back on our tracks and, after reaching the West 

 Drive, passing down a steep winding way, we come to one 

 of the finest single features of the park, a great overhanging 

 rock. It is a picturesque object which is yet so natural- 

 looking that it seems to have existed there always. On a 



