And our own dear Agnes is there too, with her husband, her two little step-daughters, and her own little boy, a noble, handsome little fellow, but with some traits of character which occasionally cause a pang to cross the heart of his mother; they remind her so of the childhood of one whose sun went down so early and so sadly. But we hope much that proper training, with the divine blessing, will so mould and guide this tender plant, that it will grow up to be an ornament and a blessing to all around, Agnes makes just such a step-mother as we should expect, and her dear little girls feel that in her they have indeed found a mother. But long after all the rest of the large party have been seated at the dinner-table, there remains a vacant seat, and here at last slowly comes the expected occupant. What, cousin Betty! alive yet? Yes, and “alive like to be,” till she has finished her century. She retains many of her old, strange habits, but has long since given up _dying_, as others begin to expect such an event to happen in the ordinary course of nature; indeed, it rather hurts cousin Betty’s feelings to be spoken of as a very aged person, or as one whose time on earth is probably short. She is laying her plans for the future as busily as any one, and it may be that her old wrinkled face will be seen in its accustomed haunts long after some of the blooming ones around that board are mouldering in the grave. Old Mammy too, whose home has been with Agnes ever since her marriage, has come back to her old home for the Christmas holidays. But Mammy is a good deal broken, and nothing is required of her by her kind mistress, except such little offices as it is a pleasure to her to perform. Cousin Emily, the “old maid cousin,” as she calls herself, is in great demand; indeed, as she says, she is a perfect “bone of contention,” and in order to keep peace with all, she has had to divide the year into four parts, and give three months to each of those who have the strongest claim upon her time. It is always a season of rejoicing when cousin Emily arrives, with her ever cheerful face, her entertaining conversation for the older ones, and her fund of stories and anecdotes for the children. After dinner came an old-fashioned Christmas frolic, and the older ones were children again, and the children as wild and noisy as they chose to be. Mr. Wharton on entering the room suddenly, saw his nephew, Mr. Tom, going around the room on all fours, as a horse, driven by his only son and heir, Master Tom, junior. “Tom,” said Mr. Wharton suddenly, “how do you prefer calf’s head?” “What do you mean by that, uncle?” said Mr. Tom, pausing a moment and looking up.