I have told you that my first feeble life-wail mingled with her dying groan, and you wondered how one could live without a mother's love.
"I was born in that rugged fortress, whose embattled walls are washed by the majestic Bay of Chesapeake.

My father held a captain's commission in the army, and was stationed for many years at this magnificent, insulated bulwark.

My father, at the time of my mother's death, was a young and gallant officer, and I was his only child.

It is not strange that he should marry again; for the grief of man seldom survives the allotted period of mourning, and it was natural that he should select a gay and brilliant woman, for the second choice is generally a striking contrast to the first.

My mother, I am told, was one of those gentle, dove-like, pensive beings, who nestled in her husband's heart, and knew no world beyond.