Days and ways in old Boston . nd Cambridge ladies to walk back andforth to visit their friends and do their mother often walked in and out of , from the shopping center, then locatedon Washington street, it was not too long a walkto Cambridge village or what is now called Har-vard Square. It was in the forties that I sometimes attendedevening lectures in Boston. The walk betweenthe two towns was to my boyish notions delight-ful, though it was a plunge into darkness. Hereand there, in the distance, sputtered a dim oillamp. But there was much more craft on theriver, and I
Days and ways in old Boston . nd Cambridge ladies to walk back andforth to visit their friends and do their mother often walked in and out of , from the shopping center, then locatedon Washington street, it was not too long a walkto Cambridge village or what is now called Har-vard Square. It was in the forties that I sometimes attendedevening lectures in Boston. The walk betweenthe two towns was to my boyish notions delight-ful, though it was a plunge into darkness. Hereand there, in the distance, sputtered a dim oillamp. But there was much more craft on theriver, and I can remember being hailed, whencrossing the bridge, and offered money to pilot acoasting schooner to Wat-ertown. My old friendand schoolmate, JamesRussell Lowell, sometimeswalked out with me fromthese lectures. On one ofthese walks with Lowell,I remember that we sawtwo men leaning over thebridge watching, what wasnot uncommon in thosedays, two seals playing inthe water. As we ap-proached we heard one of28 James Russell Lowell. I In Boston and Cambridge the men say to the other, Wal, now, do youspose them critters are common up this way!Be they, or be they? Wal, said the other,I dunnos they be, and I dunno as they be!As we walked on, we speculated on the peculiar-ities of the New England rural dialect. Before my birth my father had built a house,which is still standing, at the head of what wasthen called Professors Row, but is now knownas Kirkland Street. This led directly to EastCambridge which formed a separate village, andI remember once driving there with my father inthe family chaise. My elder brother, who was in college at thesame time that Wendell Phillips was, used to saythat Phillips was the only student of that periodfor whom the family carriage was habituallysent out to Cambridge on Saturday morning tobring him into Boston for Sunday. On one end of Boston Common, near ParkStreet, there was once a playground where mycousins used to go and play ball; and when Iwent into
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