But if you want something pretty--nay, we may as well tell the whole truth, and say at once bewitching--to look at, cast your eyes (you won’t be in a hurry to remove them again) upon the figure seated at mamma’s right hand, and recognising her facsimile (with twenty summers taken off her age, and barely eighteen left), declare whether that is not “nice,” rather. The expression is not the same, we confess: more of the woman and less of the angel, you will say. We admit it; but then, how could that little rosebud of a mouth look anything but petulant? those violet eyes express--well, it’s difficult to tell what they don’t express that is good, and fresh, and piquant, and gay, and--must we add? a little bit coquettish also;--why, the very dimple on her chin--such a well-modelled chin--has something pert and saucy about it. There! you’ve seen enough of the little beauty: you’ll be falling in love with her directly! No one could mistake the relationship existing between the gentleman we have already described, and that tall, graceful boy, with his pale, finely-chiselled features, and classically-shaped head. Even the earnest, thoughtful expression is common to both father and son, save that the curl of the short upper lip, which tells of pride in the boy, has, in the man, acquired a character of chastened dignity. Reader, do you like our picture? Let us turn to another, less pleasing, but alas! equally true. The waves of time roll on, and, like a dream, another month has lapsed into the sea of ages. The sun is shining still; but it shines upon an open grave, with aching hearts around it. A good man has died, and his brave, loving spirit has gone whither his faith has preceded him, and his good works alone can follow him. “Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.” Let us reserve our sympathy for those who live to mourn them. When the curate of Ashburn preached a funeral sermon, recalling to the minds of those who had practically benefited by them the virtues of their late rector, holly garlands hung in the fine old church, to commemorate the birth-time of One who came to bring “peace on earth, and good-will towards men;” but none dared to wish the widow and orphans “A Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year,” lest the wish might seem an insult to their sorrow. CHAPTER II.--THE BROTHERS. “Percy, I _have_ been quiet _so_ long, and you say I must not stand upon my head, because it disturbs mamma; do come out and let us ride the pony by turns,” implored little Hugh Colville in a strenuous whisper; which was, however, clearly audible throughout the small breakfast-parlour, which was the scene of our family picture.