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ments of the Winthrop party were scattered about the coast near Charles River, making the beginnings of Charlestown, Boston, Dorchester, Roxb was a little too far inland for convenience, but a position on Charles River somewhat lower than Watertown would be far less accessible to w rage might pursue them, and therefore chose a place situate on Charles River, between Charles Towne and Water Towne, where they erected a toh marshes, inclosing Eliot and South streets, and emptying into Charles River near the site of College Wharf. This creek, deepened and widenstay. In the course of the year 1635 began the exodus from the Charles River to the Connecticut. In June, 1636, Mr. Hooker went with most o67. After 1779, the territory remaining on the south side of Charles River was known as the Third Parish, or Little Cambridge, until 1807,ermon to the Indians was preached in 1646 at Nonantum, south of Charles River, and at that time within the limits of Cambridge. More than 10
there. The interest taken by the inhabitants of the body of the town, in the struggle of the residents south of the Charles River for similar privileges, was far greater during the years of political inaction which preceded the attempts of Great B its favor, and the next day an order to that effect was passed by the Assembly. In 1758, the inhabitants south of Charles River again petitioned for a separate precinct. Consideration of this petition was postponed from time to time, but in Mare development of the town. Radiating from Main Street (now Massachusetts Avenue) and covering the territory from the Charles River to the eastern boundary, we have as tributary to the West Boston Bridge, River Street, Western Avenue, Broadway, whicborn Street. This building was occupied until 1838, when the inmates were removed to a new brick almshouse on land on Charles River between Western Avenue and River Street, now a part of the Riverside Press. The efforts to develop the growth of t
is now Putnam Avenue,—but these have now unfortunately vanished. There were ample woods for wildflowers,— Norton's woods and Palfrey's woods especially,—and I have deposited at the Botanical Garden my early botanical notebooks, showing what rare wild-flowers, such as the cardinal flower, the fringed gentian, and the gaudy rhexia, once grew within the town limits. There were also birds now banished which I ineffectually vexed with bow and arrow, envying hopelessly the double-barreled gun—perhaps equally superfluous —of my elder brother. Often I have taken part in those May parties described so pityingly by Lowell in Biglow Papers. We learned to skate on Craigie's Pond, to swim in the then unpolluted Charles River, to row at Fresh Pond. We were without many things which now make the bliss of boys, —bicycles and kodaks and toboggans,—but after all, the Cambridge village of those days was a pleasant birthplace. Yet in what place is it not a happy thing for a boy to ha
e sectional idea was conspicuous, and the facts here cited as illustrations can be easily supplemented in large numbers by the recollection of any old resident. The desire for better municipal service was likewise met by many discouragements. If we have in mind modern municipal standards, we must confess that Cambridge began its career as a city poorly equipped to provide for the common needs of the people. No one now questions that the building and maintenance of bridges across the Charles River is a proper municipal function; yet in 1846, instead of being city property, the two principal bridges to Boston were owned by private corporations, authorized to exact tolls for their use. Not until 1858, and when tolls amounting to upwards of two millions of dollars had been paid, did these bridges become free municipal property. It would require a long story to tell all that the young city of Cambridge failed to provide for its people which now, by universal assent, is demanded of
ement, and liberal corporate powers were granted them under the name of the Charles River Embankment Company. The esplanade two hundred feet in width was provided ft Chester Park. In February of the same year, the incorporators of the new Charles River Embankment Company, after a vexatious delay, took conveyance of about one hhind. This was the first material work done towards the adornment of the Charles River basin and the devotion of its shores to public uses. Boston began what is all the new commons, directed general attention to the opportunities of the Charles River. Agitation was begun for the extension of the Boston embankment farther upiny as the most beautiful water-park in America. The general discussion of Charles River questions led to the creation of a special commission (1891) charged with iourteen hundred and sixty feet in length, and the entire Cambridge bank of the Charles from the westerly terminal of the esplanade under construction by the Embankme
et the years slip by, and with how little we had been satisfied. In Ward One, we had Cambridge Common, Winthrop Square, Arsenal Square; in Ward Two, Broadway Common; in Ward Three, no open spaces; in Ward Four, Washington Square, Hastings Square, and River Street Square; in Ward Five, again, there was no open space. Fresh Pond Park, begun by the wise foresight of Chester W. Kingsley and his fellow-workers on the Water Board, had already been somewhat developed, and the esplanade of the Charles River Embankment Company, near Harvard Bridge, was in process of construction. The inadequacy of these grounds was most evident. East Cambridge, for instance, with its fifty-five people to each inhabited acre, had not a single breathing-space. Consequently, so strongly was the need of persistent and lasting effort for the development of the park system felt by the city government, urged by Mayor Bancroft in his inaugural address, that in August of the following year, 1893, Rev. John O'Bri
crue to that most extensive unoccupied section of the city, to which the Harvard and Brookline bridges are immediately tributary. The advantages as a place of residence of the large area lying between the Boston and Albany railroad and the Charles River, and separated from it only by a boulevard two hundred feet in width, are presented elsewhere in this volume. The erection of substantial and attractive dwelling-houses fronting this boulevard cannot long be delayed, as its southerly exposurf our city may be predicted, as hundreds of acres of available land await and invite occupancy. It is impossible to measure the increased value to the real estate interests of Cambridge made by the park improvements, near the shores of the Charles River, the reconstruction of the Boylston and Brookline bridges, and the building of a bridge at the foot of Magazine Street, authorized by recent enactment. Few cities enjoy or have left so long unimproved such opportunities as the river shore a
, and the initials A. I., of him who cut and first placed it. This directed travelers the way to Boston through Roxbury, over the only bridge that then crossed Charles River, to Little Cambridge, now Brighton. The above initials are explained on a headstone near by: Here lyes buried the body of Mr. Abraham Ireland, who departed tearly settlement of the town, the tract was known as Stone's Woods, being the northerly part of Simon Stone's farming lands, which were bounded on the south by Charles River. The woods were later known as Sweet Auburn, and were the property of the Massachusetts Horticultural Society. In June, 1831, this society, by an act of the earnestly attempted. This tract is undulating, and contains bold eminences and attractive dales. The highest ground is one hundred and twenty-five feet above Charles River, and on it stands a stone tower sixty feet high. From the tower the winding Charles, in all its beauty, can be seen in one direction; the city of Boston, and
al newspaper. To the modern journalist who is familiar with the numberless interesting and dramatic episodes that are associated with the early history of Cambridge, the fact that we should have had no local newspaper to record these events properly seems an appalling waste of opportunity. Why, for instance, should it have been left to the Boston News Letter of September 19, 1754, to describe the exciting chase of a Bear from Lieutenant-Governor Phips' farm in Cambridge down to the Charles River, and his subsequent capture; or that far more exciting scene in September, 1774, when the British troops from Boston carried off the powder from the Somerville powder-house. And fancy the wealth of display headlines which a Cambridge newspaper would have deemed necessary to set forth properly the story of that eventful visit of about four thousand people to LieutenantGov-ernor Thomas Oliver's mansion on Tory Row, which resulted in his resignation and subsequent flight into Boston. Qu
The Catholics and their churches. Judge Charles J. McIntire. For more than tenscore years and ten after Governor Winthrop and his associates sailed up the Charles River and found a suitable spot on which to plant their fortified Newe Towne, the Catholics had not attained sufficient numbers to erect a church within its limits. Up to the year 1842 our citizens of that faith were obliged to attend either the cathedral on Franklin Street in Boston, erected in 1803, or the church in Charlestown, which followed it in 1828. While the original Puritan settlers of the colony were living, there was little inducement for Catholics to come and abide with them, and if either Miles Standish, William Mullins, his daughter Priscilla, or our own doughty captain and commander-in-chief of the Newe Towne forces, Daniel Patrick, ever attended upon the services of the Roman Church in any portion of what is now called the United Kingdom, they certainly never did so here, and they probably said ver
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