BEN FRANKLIN’S OWN STORY ABOUT PHILADELPHIA STREETS
Benjamin Franklin wrote a story about himself for his son to read. In this story, or autobiography, he tells a great deal about the streets of Philadelphia in 1755. As may be imagined, they were very unlike the streets of that city to-day.
You may read below in his own words, which seem quite old-fashioned and quaint to us now, what he says:
“Our city, though laid out with a beautiful regularity, the streets large, straight, and crossing each other at right angles, had the disgrace of suffering those streets to remain long unpaved.
“In wet weather the wheels of heavy carriages plowed them into quagmire, so that it was difficult to cross them; and in dry weather the dust was offensive.
“I had lived near what was called the Jersey Market, and saw with pain the inhabitants wading in mud while purchasing their provisions.
“A strip of ground down the middle of the market was at length paved with bricks, so that being once in the market, they had firm footing; but were often over shoes in dirt to get there.
“By talking and writing on the subject, I was at length instrumental in getting the streets paved with stone between the market and the brick foot pavement that was on the side next the houses.
“This for some time gave an easy access to the market dry-shod; but the rest of the street, not being paved, whenever a carriage came out of the mud upon this pavement, it shook off and left dirt upon it, and the pavement was soon covered with mire, which was not removed, the city as yet having no street-cleaners.
“After some inquiry I found a poor, industrious man who was willing to undertake to keep the pavement clean by sweeping it twice a week, carrying off the dirt from before all the neighbor’s doors, for the sum of sixpence per month, to be paid by each house.”
The people soon saw how much better it was to have clean streets. Franklin’s arrangement for sweeping them finally led to the paving and regular cleaning of the principal streets.
Does it not seem strange that the great cities of the country once had the same troubles that any little village in the United States has to-day?
Why is the rubbish in this cellar a source of danger to the people who live in the house?
Why is it dangerous for the entire city?