February 25, 1863, The New York Herald
The long pent up enthusiasm of our sleighing population has found ample vent during the past two days. Before the snow storm people began to believe that winter had neglected us this year. The seasons seemed to sympathize with the distracted condition of the country, and were dreadfully confused, so that we had bits of summer weather in December, and February came in smiling like spring. The beautiful snow has made all this right, however, and for two days we have had a semi-carnival on runners. The streets, avenues and Central Park have been crowded with elegant sleighs of all sorts, patterns and descriptions, and both old and young New York have been as jolly under the fur robes and behind the jingling bells as was proper during such excellent sleighing. On Monday evening, when the fireworks blazed in the parks in honor of Washington – whose patriotism all eulogize and few imitate – the scene was one of fairy land. The gorgeously varied hues of the pyrotechnics were brilliantly reflected from the dazzling surface of the snow – the clear, cold air was filled with balls of vari-colored fire eclipsing the stars – the skyrockets marked their fiery paths upon the dark blue sky – the tinkling and jangling of thousands of sleigh bells made most merry music, with which the voices of the gay carnivalists mingled sweetly and cheerily – sleigh after sleigh dashed past in quick succession, or paused, with half affrighted horses, among the crowds at Union square – and no stranger, visiting this metropolis for the first time, could have been induced to believe that all this splendid merriment and costly display was during the most momentous crisis of the most desperate civil war which ever troubled the world. Such is life, and such are the Americans.