family pedigree which hung up in the drawingroom, which mamma called
the yellow saloon, and my bedroom was called the pink bedroom, and
hers the orange tawny apartment (how well I remember them all!); and
at dinner-time Tim regularly rang a great bell, and we each had a
silver tankard to drink from, and mother boasted with justice that I
had as good a bottle of claret by my side as any squire of the land.
So indeed I had, but I was not, of course, allowed at my tender
years to drink any of the wine; which thus attained a considerable
age, even in the decanter.

Uncle Brady (in spite of the family quarrel) found out the above
fact one day by calling at Barryville at dinner-time, and unluckily
tasting the liquor. You should have seen how he sputtered and made
faces! But the honest gentleman was not particular about his wine,
or the company in which he drank it. He would get drunk, indeed,
with the parson or the priest indifferently; with the latter, much
to my mother's indignation, for, as a true blue Nassauite, she
heartily despised all those of the old faith, and would scarcely sit
down in the room with a benighted Papist. But the squire had no such
scruples; he was, indeed, one of the easiest, idlest, and best-
natured fellows that ever lived, and many an hour would he pass with
the lonely widow when he was tired of Madam Brady at home. He liked
me, he said, as much as one of his own sons, and at length, after
the widow had held out for a couple of years, she agreed to allow me
to return to the castle; though, for herself, she resolutely kept
the oath which she had made with regard to her sister-in-law.

The very first day I returned to Castle Brady my trials may be said,
in a manner, to have begun. My cousin, Master Mick, a huge monster
of nineteen (who hated me, and I promise you I returned the