ore the Revolution,
and she resided, during the war, with her father, Josiah Quincy, at
Braintree, now Quincy, in the mansion, now the summer residence, of
President Quincy. One of her letters to her brother, Samuel Quincy, who
left Boston with other loyalists, published in "Curwen's Memoirs" (page
562), is full of eloquence. She afterwards married Ebenezer Storer, of
Boston, and died, at the age of ninety, in 1826, a few weeks after the
decease of her early friend, John Adams. She was for many years a
correspondent of Mrs. Adams, and a life-long friendship subsisted
between them. They were often together at the family mansion at Quincy,
where, in 1824, she welcomed Lafayette to her father's residence. The
present Mrs. Quincy's mother, Mrs. Maria S. Morton, was there on that
occasion. This lady had resided at Baskenridge, New Jersey, during a
seven years exile from New York, where her husband, an eminent merchant,
left part of his property, devoting the profits of the sale of the rest
to the cause of American independence. He died during the war, leaving
Mrs. Morton with six children. Washington and all his officers were
frequent guests at her house, and some of the stirring incidents of the
campaign in New Jersey occurred in her immediate neighborhood. She was
born at Raub, on the banks of the Rhine, and lived to the age of
ninety-three, passing the last twelve years with her daughter. She
retained her powers to the last, and often beguiled the attention of
President Quincy's children with the narrative of the times when, as he
used to say, "the women were all heroines." She died at his residence at
Cambridge.

PLYMOUTH, _June 3, 1775._

DEAR MRS. LINCOLN: If the tenderest sympathy would
be any alleviation to your sorrow, when mourning
the death of a beloved brother, the ready hand of
friendship should soon wipe the starting tear from
your eye. Yet, while I wish to console the
disappointed father, the weeping sister, and the
still more afflicted wife, I cannot restrain the
rising sigh within my swollen bosom, nor forbear
to mix my tears with theirs, when I consider that,
in your valuable brother, America has lost a warm,
unshaken friend.[B] Deprived of his assistance
when, to all human appearance, had his life been
spared, he might have rendered his co