Pocahontas was buried at Gravesend on the 21st of March, 1617, and as night fell, and John Rolfe tossed on a bed of anguished memories, it is said that a man muffled in a great cloak stole through the darkness and knelt beside the new-made grave with bowed head and clasped hands. It was Captain Smith who came to offer reverent tribute to the girl who had given him so much, asking nothing in return, a girl of savage lineage, yet of noble character and great charm, whose blossoming into the flower of civilization had no parallel. Alone there, in the somber night, the silent figure knelt--the brave Captain of her loyal devotion paying tardy homage to Pocahontas, the girl of the Virginia forest, the white man's steadfast friend. DOROTHY QUINCY: THE GIRL OF COLONIAL DAYS WHO HEARD THE FIRST GUN FIRED FOR INDEPENDENCE A small, shapely foot clad in silken hose and satin slipper of palest gray was thrust from under flowing petticoats of the same pale shade, as Dorothy Quincy stepped daintily out of church on a Sabbath Day in June after attending divine service. John Hancock, also coming from church, noted the small foot with interest, and his keen eye traveled from the slipper to its owner's lovely face framed in a gray bonnet, in the depths of which nestled a bunch of rosebuds. From that moment Hancock's fate as a man was as surely settled as was his destiny among patriots when the British seized his sloop, the _Liberty_. But all that belongs to a later part of our story, and we must first turn back the pages of history and become better acquainted with that young person whose slippered foot so diverted a man's thoughts from the sermon he had heard preached on that Lord's Day in June. Pretty Dorothy was the youngest daughter of Edmund Quincy, one of a long line of that same name, who were directly descended from Edmund Quincy, pioneer, who came to America in 1628. Seven years later the town of Boston granted him land in the town that was afterward known as Braintree, Massachusetts, where he built the mansion that became the home of succeeding generations of Quincys, from whom the North End of the town was later named. As his father had been before him, Dorothy's father was a judge, and he spent a part of each year in his home on Summer Street, Boston, pursuing his profession. There in the Summer Street home Dorothy was born on the tenth of May, 1747, the youngest of ten children. Evidently she was sent to school at an early age, and gave promise of a quick mind even then, for in a letter written by Judge Quincy, from Boston to his wife in the country, he writes: Daughter Dolly looks very Comfortable, and has gone to School, where she seems to be very high in her Mistresses' graces.