The grave is at the door.

And now, when weighed down by the pains and aches of old age, when the head inclines to the feet, when the beginning and ending of human existence meet, and helpless infancy and painful old age combine together--at this time, this most needful time, the time for the exercise of that tenderness and affection which children only can exercise toward a declining parent--my poor old grandmother, the devoted mother of twelve children, is left all alone, in yonder little hut, before a few dim embers.
Two years after the death of Mrs.Lucretia, Master Thomas married his second wife.

Her name was Rowena Hamilton, the eldest daughter of Mr.
William Hamilton, a rich slaveholder on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, who lived about five miles from St.Michael's, the then place of my master's residence.
Not long after his marriage, Master Thomas had a misunderstanding with Master Hugh, and, as a means of punishing his brother, he ordered him to send me home.{142} As the ground of misunderstanding will serve to illustrate the character of southern chivalry, and humanity, I will relate it.
Among the children of my Aunt Milly, was a daughter, named Henny.

When quite a child, Henny had fallen into the fire, and burnt her hands so bad that they were of very little use to her.

Her fingers were drawn almost into the palms of her hands.