Cambridge sketches
Estelle M. H. Merrill, Ed.

Here in the moonlight nights gathered youths and maidens, and listened to the soft tones of the flute and flageolet, and sang sweet songs, and sat under the scattered trees on an open knoll near the Stone mansion, hard by the river.

Far and wide was Sweet Auburn known, and dear to many hearts, being full of sweet memories.

From its highest hill, Stone's Mount, the prospect stretched wide and beautiful on every hand. A grand old oak stood on the summit; in the boughs of this a seat was constructed to which access was gained by a ladder of easy ascent. This was the favorite seat of the last owner of the ancestral acres. From this mount of vision could be descried by the aid of a spy-glass, Boston and its harbor and islands, Charlestown, the young towns beyond, Lynn and Salem far away and faintly lined, Watertown and West Cambridge (now Arlington) near by, Fresh Pond sparkling almost under his feet, the hills of Newton across the river, Brighton nearer still, the marshes, the winding river, classic Cambridge, historical Dorchester, and Roxbury — an unequalled panorama of town, village, hill, forest and many waters, orchards and gardens, meadows and fields of waving grain. No wonder the old oak furnished so great an attraction for its numerous visitors.

To the poet Sweet Auburn was a spot of romantic interest. It was the theme of many a lay, and dear to many a heart.

But the time came when it was to be yet dearer and more widely sacred, when as Mount Auburn it was to have a national reputation. Probably no place in the world was ever more naturally beautiful