The Worcester spy. [volume] (Worcester, Mass.) 1898-1904, 1898-10-23
ADAMS COTTAGE BIRTHPLACE JOHN QUINCY ADAMS

Did you know that Bunker Hill mon
ument is made of Quincy granite, and
that the first railroad in America-now
the Old Colony-was built for the pur-
pose of carrying the stone from the
qC<Sries to the Neponset river? And
that captain John Smith put Quincy
down on that extraordinary map of the
New England seacoast that he made,
marking it with a castle and a cathed-
raj, by way of prophesy? And that when
Myles Standish first saw Quincy in the
autumn of 1921, he was amazed at the
beauty of the surrounding country, and
echoed Captain Smiths sentiment that
1t was the Paradise of all those
parts?" Well, neither did we, till we
read them in Miss Abbotts guide book ;
but they are very good things to know
All this part of the state-the Old
Colony-is rich in historic interest. 1t
was a favorite hunting and fishing
ground of the Indians, and once Mas
sasoit and King Philip We're names to
conjure with. In revolutionary days the
little settlements each sent up its quota
of volunteers to swell the continental
army, While many a graceful shaft,
rising from village green's tells of the
tragedy in which they bore their part
between the years of 1861 and 1866.
The churches were just Diminishing
through Brockton, and we'll dressed
people, with kind, earnest, refined New
England faces, kept getting on the car.
to be dropped at their front gates "a
few blocks later. Among the fl1ostei i'm
teresting of our new passengers were
two, dear pretty little. girls, who rus
tied aboard in all the bravery of their
crisp white frocks and blue sashes,
their brown hair demurely parted over
WI on
braided in little pigtails under their
broad brimmed fiower-laden hats. The
younger, who was about Z, was talk
ing volubly as she got in, and she kept
up a perpetual stream of chatter in a
thin sweet little voice-about the min
ister Mis- Smith, the Sunday dinner,
Minnie's new kitten and a variety of
kindred topics, until half the passeng-
ers were listening to her prattle with
an amused, caressing smile on their
faces. The little girl talked on uncon-
scious of the attention she was eXcit-
ing. 1t seemed as if she had to talk,
as a kitten has to play, or as a boy has
to jump and shout. She was not talk
ing to any one in particular; she Meth
er expected nor desired answers: she
talked for the fun of talking, and be-
cause she could not help it.
They got out at a small cottage, en-
powered in woodbine and rose bushes.
AS they stepped foot on the gravel, a
white kitten ran out of the rose bushes
and prostrating herself before the feet
of her little mistress, began a series of
those graceful gymnastics with which
cats testify to their personal gratifioa-
ton. A mastiff puppy, all legs and
feet, shambled down the driveway, and
confdingly placed his moist nose in her
rosy palm ''Hulloa!" cried the little
girls, as attended by their fond retain
ers, they scampered up to their father
and mother on the piazza. "Hunoat'
came back the answer Did you have
good sermon?' AS we turned the
corner the nttlest girl had scrambled
into her mothers lap and was telling
her all about it. And I suppose that
was the last we shall ever see of her!
From Brockton on, our way lay
through the lovely green countryside,
dotted at intervals with hamlets, and.
at considerable distances, with cities of