the corners and window-places,
and the tiled roof was surrounded by a balustrade. From the roof, dormer
windows provided a beautiful view of the surrounding country. The
grounds were enclosed by a low stone wall, on which was placed a light
wooden fence. The house itself was a little distance back from the
street, and the approach was by means of a dozen stone steps and a
carefully paved walk.

At the right of the entrance was a reception-room of spacious
dimensions, provided with furniture of bird's-eye maple, covered with
rich damask. Out of this opened the dining-room, sixty feet in length,
in which Hancock was wont to entertain. Opposite was a smaller
apartment, the usual dining-room of the family. Next adjoining were the
china-room and offices, while behind were to be found the coach-house
and barn of the estate.

The family drawing-room, its lofty walls covered with crimson paper, was
at the left of the entrance. The upper and lower halls of the house were
hung with pictures of game and with hunting scenes. The furniture,
wall-papers and draperies throughout the house had been imported from
England by Thomas Hancock, and expressed the height of luxury for that
day. Passing through the hall, a flight of steps led to a small
summer-house in the garden, near Mount Vernon Street, and here the
grounds were laid out in ornamental box-bordered beds like those still
to be seen in the beautiful Washington home on the Potomac. A highly
interesting corner of the garden was that given over to the group of
mulberry-trees, which had been imported from England by Thomas Hancock,
the uncle of John, he being, with others of his time, immensely
interested in the culture of the silkworm.

Of this beautiful home Dorothy Quincy showed herself well fitted to be
mistress, and through her native grace and dignity admirably performed
her part at the reception of D'Estaing, Lafayette, Washington, Brissot,
Lords Stanley and Wortley, and other noted guests.

On October 8, 1793, Hancock died, at the age of fifty-six years. The
last recorded letter penned in his letter volume was to Captain James
Scott, his lifelong friend. And it was to this Captain Scott that our
Dorothy Q. gave her hand in a second marriage three years later. She
outlived her second husband many years, residing at the end of her life
on Federal Street in Boston. When turned of seventy she had a lithe,
handsome figure, a pair of laughing eyes, and fine yellow ringlets i