perintendent of nurses in the sanitary corps during
the Civil War, and as such rendered conspicuous service in the State of
Virginia. She still resides in New York, admired and beloved by a large
circle of friends, and those charming traits of character which have
always made her so universally beloved are now hallowing the declining
years of her life.

I often met Joseph C. G. Kennedy at General Scott's, usually called
"Census" Kennedy. One day we were shocked to learn that Solon Borland,
U.S. Senator from Arkansas, standing high in political circles but
called by General Scott "a western ruffian," had assaulted Mr. Kennedy
and broken his nose. I knew both Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy in after life. He
was a gentleman of the old school, beloved and respected by everyone.
His death in 1887 was a shocking tragedy. A lunatic with a fancied
grievance met him on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and Fifteenth
Street, and stabbed him. Mr. Kennedy was a grandson of Andrew Ellicott,
who, his descendants claim, conceived the original plans of the city of
Washington instead of Pierre Charles l'Enfant, to whom they are
generally attributed.

While visiting in Washington I had the pleasure of renewing my
acquaintance with Isaac Hull Adams of the Coast Survey. He was a
bachelor, and his sister, Miss Elizabeth Combs Adams, always lived with
him. They were children of Judge Thomas Boylston Adams, a son of
President John Adams, and resided in the old Adams homestead in Quincy,
Massachusetts. I had originally known both of them in earlier life in
New York, and it was a sincere pleasure to meet them again. Miss Adams
was a generous and broad-minded woman who inherited the intellectuality
of her ancestors. Her reminiscences of the White House during the Monroe
administration, when her uncle, John Quincy Adams, was Secretary of
State, were of the deepest interest. She also loved to dwell upon the
days of the administration which followed, when she was a constant
visitor at the White House as the guest of her uncle, the President. I
called upon her a few years ago in Quincy, while I was visiting in
Boston, and found her living quietly in the old home, surrounded by her
many household gods. She died soon after I saw her, but the memory of
her friendship is enduring.

Before making my visit to Quincy I wrote to Miss Adams asking her
whether she was equal to seeing me. She was then nearly ninety-two years
old, having been born on the 9th of Februa