e annals of New England history in a
never-fading flame of romance, Sir Harry Frankland and beautiful Agnes
Surriage. The Quincy mansion, which was built about 1635 by William
Coddington of Boston and occupied by him until he was exiled for his
religious opinions, was bought by Edmund Quincy. His grandson, who bore
his name, enlarged the house, and lived in it until his death when it
descended to his son Edmund, the eminent jurist and father of Dorothy.
The old-fashioned furniture, utensils and pictures, the broad hall, fine
old stairway with carved balustrades, and foreign wall-paper supposed to
have been hung in honor of the approaching marriage of Dorothy to John
Hancock, are still preserved in their original place. Of the Quincy
family, whose sedate jest it was that the estate descended from 'Siah to
'Siah, so frequent was the name "Josiah," the best known is perhaps the
Josiah Quincy who was Mayor of Boston for six years and president of
Harvard for sixteen. The portrait of his long, thin face is part of
every New England history, and his busy, serene life, "compacted of
Roman and Puritan virtues," is still upheld to all American children as
a model of high citizenship.

But not even the long line of the Quincy family completes the list of
the town's great men. Henry Hope, one of the most brilliant financiers
of his generation, and founder of a European banking house second only
to that of the Rothchilds, was a native of Quincy. John Hull--who, as
every school-child knows, on the day of his daughter's marriage to Judge
Sewall, placed her in one of his weighing scales, and heaped enough new
pine-tree shillings into the other to balance, and then presented both
to the bridegroom--held the first grant of land in the present town of
Braintree (which originally included Quincy, Randolph, and Holbrook).

From the picturesque union of John Hull's bouncing daughter Betsy and
Judge Sewall sprang the extraordinary family of Sewalls which has given
three chief justices to Massachusetts, and one to Canada, and has been
distinguished in every generation for the talents and virtues of its
members. In passing, we may note that it was this same John Hull who
named Point Judith for his wife, little dreaming what a _bete noir_ the
place would prove to mariners in the years to come.

There is another Quincy man whom it is pleasant to recall, and that is
Henry Flynt, a whimsical and scholarly old bachelor, who was a tutor at
Harvard