rofane and impure language had diminished.
The habit of truth-telling had gained ground.
The duty of reverence was strongly urged in the report of 1845,—reverence to parents, to one's self, to teachers, to magistrates, and to all superiors in years and goodness.
Classes were still too large for the teachers.
Cambridge was still outstripped by twenty-three towns and cities of the Commonwealth in the amount of money raised per child for schooling, Somerville raising $7.64, Boston $6.76, Chelsea $5.58, Charlestown $5.09, Newton $4.26, and Cambridge $3.95.
Still, Cambridge had risen from the thirty-fifth place the proceding year to the twenty-fourth, and that was cause for congratulation.
The committee, however, did not think it should be an object of ambition what town will expend the most money, but what town can produce the best schools.
Here the records must be dropped.
Even in their fullness, the story they tell is somewhat meagre; and it is only a snatch or two from t
1, the intention was to make it the fortified political centre of the colony.
It speedily became instead an important residential and intellectual centre.
A writer in 1637 pictures it with artless exaggeration as one of the neatest towns in New England, with many fair structures and handsome contrived streets.
The inhabitants, most of them, he adds, were very rich.
We know from other sources that many of them had scholarly tastes.
Moreover, Harvard College was founded in 1636, opened in 1nes and near the willows that stirred his muse; and doubly dear, with its memories of Washington as of the poet, that of Longfellow, with its vista of the sinuous Charles and the marshes beyond; beautiful Mount Auburn,—the Westminster Abbey of New England, where at every turn the names of the illustrious dead quicken one's memory of the history they shared in making,—these are but a part of the priceless heritage that is ours.
Does the sense of their value ever become dull?
Let the pilgrims