CAMBRIDGE GROWS UP

Cambridge is at last reaching its majority. It has already remained too long an overgrown child wearing Buster Brown collars and knee breeches. A year and a half ago, in fact, measurements were taken for long pants, but now the tailored garment is ready to be worn.

Cambridge, a city of more than 120,000 population, can actually boast of its own daily newspaper, and there by explode the proverbial joke regarding its own infancy. For this purpose the fourteen consecutive issues of the Cambridge Evening Journal have provided the necessary dynamite and now stand on approval.

The way for such a turn of events was paved a little more than eighteen months ago when this city witnessed the opening of its first hotel. Until then its minority was tragically evident from the fact that even its own guests had to be entertained across the river. When travelling salesmen were comfortably accommodated in an hostelry of another city, they found as much amusement in the hotel situation at Cambridge as in the story of the fat lady in the pullman car; but on the other hand, when they were forced to the inconvenience of leaving town in order merely to spend a few hours of the night, they usually gave vent to their spleen in no uncertain terms.

The new local publication is stamped with the headline "Cambridge's Only Daily Newspaper". If by a newspaper, it means one which describes a Roxbury fire and a burglary on Beacon Street, the slogan is pertinent; otherwise, the Harvard CRIMSON, founded in 1878 may present its claim.