At the time of the fire at Percy-hall, a painted glass window in the passage--we should say the gallery--leading to the study had been destroyed.--Old Martha, whose life Caroline had saved, had a son, who possessed some talents as a painter, and who had learnt the art of painting on glass. He had been early in his life assisted by the Percy family, and, desirous to offer some small testimony of his gratitude, he begged permission to paint a new window for the gallery.--He chose for his subject the fire, and the moment when Caroline was assisting his decrepit mother down the dangerous staircase.--The painting was finished unknown to Caroline, and put up on her birthday, when she had just attained her eighteenth year. This was the only circumstance worth recording which the biographer can find noted in the family annals at this period. In this dearth of events, may we take the liberty of introducing, according to the fashion of modern biography, a few private letters? They are written by persons of whom the reader as yet knows nothing--Mr. Percy’s second and third sons, Alfred and Erasmus. Alfred was a barrister; Erasmus a physician: they were both at this time in London, just commencing their professional career. Their characters--but let their characters speak for themselves in their letters, else neither their letters nor their characters can be worth attention. ALFRED PERCY TO HIS FATHER. “MY DEAR FATHER, “Thank you for the books--I have been reading hard lately, for I have still, alas! leisure enough to read. I cannot expect to be employed, or to have _fees_ for some time to come. I am armed with patience--I am told that I have got through the worst part of my profession, the reading of dry law. This is tiresome enough, to be sure; but I think the courting of attorneys and solicitors is the worst part of the beginning of my profession: for this I was not, and I believe I never shall be, sufficiently prepared. I give them no dinners, and they neglect me; yet I hope I pay them proper attention. To make amends, however, I have been so fortunate as to form acquaintance with some gentlemen of the bar, who possess enlarged minds and general knowledge: their conversation is of the greatest use and pleasure to me. But many barristers here are men who live entirely among themselves, with their heads in their green bags, and their souls narrowed to a point: mere machines for drawing pleas and rejoinders.