complete. A project that would consort well with the genius of Chicago
might disserve Boston in the eyes of those who esteem a sense of fitness
to be among the major qualifications for the true art of life. And, in
the matter of the art of daily living, Boston as she is has a great deal
to teach to the rest of the country, and little to learn. Such is the
diffident view of a stranger.

* * * * *

Cambridge is separated from Boston by the river Charles and by piquant
jealousies that tickle no one more humorously than those whom,
theoretically, they stab. From the east bank Cambridge is academic, and
therefore negligible; from the west, Boston dwindles to a mere quay
where one embarks for Europe.

What struck me first about Cambridge was that it must be the only city
of its size and amenity in the United States without an imposing hotel.
It is difficult to imagine any city in the United States minus at least
two imposing hotels, with a barber's shop in the basement and a world's
fair in the hall. But one soon perceives that Cambridge is a city apart.
In visual characteristics it must have changed very little, and it will
never change with facility. Boston is pre-eminently a town of
traditions, but the traditions have to be looked for. Cambridge is
equally a town of traditions, but the traditions stare you in the face.

My first halt was in front of the conspicuous home of James Russell
Lowell. Now in the far recesses of the Five Towns I was brought up on
"My Study Windows." My father, who would never accept the authority of
an encyclopedia when his children got him in a corner on some debated
question of fact, held James Russell Lowell as the supreme judge of