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THE NEW YORKER 87 it was poor in possibilities. Central Park was almost like real country, with lakes, forests, cliffs - all enormous. Gramercy Park was small but clean and pretty, and only people with keys to the gate could play behind its metal bars, like high-class birds in an aviary. But our park was neither wilderness nor sanctuary. There were more trees than now - horse chestnuts, and many plane trees, dotted with seed balls and sparrows - but still not enough to make a forest, or even a wood. There was nothing much to explore. When we climbed between the iron fence rungs, looking for jungles and anxious for treasure, we found only dull shrubbery and parched grass full of chewing-gum papers. The angry park man was our only tiger, and burned, black carbon sticks from the arc lamps were as near as we could come to treasure; they made pretty good chalk. But we were not discouraged that all our sapphires turned out to be pieces of magnesia bottle and all our silver crumbs of tinfoil. We continued to search. Children are more fortunate, or perhaps less cordial to disappointment, than adults; where no treasure exists for their discovery, they will invent it, or add the concept of value to something hitherto unclaimed. It is their necessity not so much to find what they are seeking as to find the thing to seek. The sour park earth was earth, after all; real worms lived in it, real roots grew in it, and real stones were dredged up by time to its sooty surface. ONE spring day, Ira and I noticed a glitter that had possibilities - pieces of igneous rock full of mica flakes. Ira took one in his hand; it was soft and he crumbled it. On his palm, the particles were separate and shimmering, a powder of gold. "This stuff is valuable," Ira said tensely. "Listen, we can grind it up and make gold dust out of it. Find some more - go on, hurry up! - and then we'll take it somewhere secret and experiment. I'll find some, too. And listen! Don't let anyone know! Don't let them see, and don't explain. Close-lipped, secretive, I searched the dingy grass for mica-bearing fragments and found a pocketful. Ira did, too. We met and made our way to the side of one of the shrubbery triangles somewhat out of the main stream of activity; there was no true seclusion in that park. Stamping on the stones was unsuccessful. Ira found two larger, harder rocks, and we squatted on our haunches - obedient to the last, we did not sit - [[advertisement]] [[image]] "YOU'RE A SMART YOUNG WOMAN TO INSIST ON Beautiful OAK FLOORS" Father knows he and Mother enjoyed and still love the sunshine on the lovely graining . . . the colorful reflections of furnishings on the clear, clean surface of the polished oak. And, whenever they added a new chair or replaced a rug, the oak floors welcomed the changes with fresh charm and beauty. Durable and economical? Well, the oak floors in the old home are just as attractive and hospitable now as when they were laid, a generation ago. Its so easy to keep them fresh and clean, with just a dustmop, that dust and dirt don't have a chance to grind in. A simple wax application, occasionally, brings back the bright newness. These are the qualities that have made oak floors the choice for large and small homes, for so many years, just as they are the predominating style today. So, for lifetime beauty that's modern, and timeless, be sure you have oak floors in the home you buy or build. Ask your builder or lumber dealer for a copy of the new free booklet - Oak Floors for Long-time Beauty - or write to National Oak Flooring Manufacturers' Association, 814 Sterick Building, Memphis, Tenn. [[image]] OAK FLOORS BEAUTY DURABILITY ADAPTABILITY ECONOMY [[/advertisement]]
