tle. Perhaps they would not have been generally called
so, had they any children of their own; but they have none, and the only
young person in the house at present is Mary Dalton--Cousin Mary--an
orphan niece of Mrs. Wyndham, whom they have brought up from a child.
She looks like her aunt, plump, rosy, good natured and sensible; she is
just seventeen, and very popular with the whole cousinhood. She has many
accomplishments: she does not talk French, Spanish, or Italian, but she
knows how to play every game that ever was invented, can tell stories to
suit every age, can soothe a screaming child sooner than any one else,
can rattle off cotillions on the piano-forte of a winter's evening
without thinking it hard that she cannot join in the dance; and lastly,
can lay down an interesting book or piece of crochet work to run on an
errand for Aunt, or untangle the bob-tails of a kite, without showing
any signs of crossness. Self is a very subordinate person with her, and
indeed she seems hardly to realize her separate individuality; she is
everybody's Cousin Mary, and frowns vanish, and smiles brighten up the
countenance, wherever she appears. A very happy looking group they are,
but restless, this afternoon of the 24th of December; Uncle John
frequently goes to the hall door; Aunt Lucy lays down her knitting to
listen; and Cousin Mary does not pretend to read the book she holds, but
gazes out of the window, down the long avenue of elms, as if she
expected an arrival. Old Caesar, "the last of the servants," as Mr.
Wyndham styles him, a white-haired negro who was born in the house, and
is devoted to the family, always speaking of _our_ house, _our_
carriage, and _our_ children, as if he were chief owner, vibrates
constantly between the kitchen and the porter's lodge, feeling it to be
his especial duty and prerogative to give the first welcome to the
guests.

And soon the sound of wheels is heard, and merry voices resound through
the hall, and cheeks rosy with the cold are made yet rosier by hearty
kisses; it is the young Wyndhams, come to spend their Christmas holidays
at the Grange with Uncle John. There is Cornelia, a bright, intelligent
girl of sixteen, full of fun, with sparkling black eyes. John, a boy of
fourteen, matter-of fact and practical, a comical miniature of Uncle
John, whom he regards with veneration, as the greatest, wisest, and best
of living men, and only slightly inferior to General Washington himself;
and G