The Cambridge of eighteen hundred and ninety-six: a picture of the city and its industries fifty years after its incorporation
Arthur Gilman, Ed.

[125] has been free to call one of the finest natural features about Boston, a statement with which we, who know the spot, fully agree. In Fresh Pond Park, with its broad outlooks, improved as it will be by the able efforts of the Water Board, we have a goal where our drive may satisfactorily end. On that day in the future toward which we look when, in reality, we shall have taken this drive, we may perhaps call to mind Lowell's words: ‘I remembered people who must call upon the Berkshire hills to teach them what a painter autumn was, while close at hand, the Fresh Pond meadows made all oriels cheap with hues that showed as if a sunset cloud had been wrecked among the maples.’

When all is done, the entrances to Cambridge will, at last, be beautiful. The city that holds within itself treasures with which few can be compared will have border lands worthy of its riches. On that day, when all our plans have been made good, we shall have an outward form more nearly fitting the best life of Cambridge; and those of us who work many a day over the problems which shall bring forth ‘Greater Cambridge’ feel that the beauty of this outward form will help us all, the least and the greatest, to realize for Cambridge the best life we can conceive.