The conversation turned upon cattle; he boasted of his breed, his mode of managing it, and of the general management of his estate.  This unluckily drew on a history of the place and of the family.  He spoke of my late uncle with the greatest irreverence, which I could easily forgive.  He mentioned my name, and my blood began to boil.  He described my frequent visits to my uncle when I was a lad, and I found the varlet, even at that time, imp as he was, had known that he was to inherit the estate.

He described the scene of my uncle’s death, and the opening of the will, with a degree of coarse humor that I had not expected from him, and, vexed as I was, I could not help joining in the laugh, for I have always relished a joke, even though made at my own expense.  He went on to speak of my various pursuits; my strolling freak, and that somewhat nettled me.  At length he talked of my parents.  He ridiculed my father:  I stomached even that, though with great difficulty.  He mentioned my mother with a sneer—­and in an instant he lay sprawling at my feet.

Here a scene of tumult succeeded.  The table was nearly overturned.  Bottles, glasses, and tankards, rolled crashing and clattering about the floor.  The company seized hold of both of us to keep us from doing farther mischief.  I struggled to get loose, for I was boiling with fury.  My cousin defied me to strip and fight him on the lawn.  I agreed; for I felt the strength of a giant in me, and I longed to pummel him soundly.

Away then we were borne.  A ring was formed.  I had a second assigned me in true boxing style.  My cousin, as he advanced to fight, said something about his generosity in showing me such fair play, when I had made such an unprovoked attack upon him at his own table.

“Stop there!” cried I, in a rage—­“unprovoked!—­know that I am John Buckthorne, and you have insulted the memory of my mother.”

The lout was suddenly struck by what I said.  He drew back and reflected for a moment.

“Nay, damn it,” said he, “that’s too much—­that’s clear another thing.  I’ve a mother myself, and no one shall speak ill of her, bad as she is.”

He paused again.  Nature seemed to have a rough struggle in his rude bosom.

“Damn it, cousin,” cried he, “I’m sorry for what I said.  Thou’st served me right in knocking me down, and I like thee the better for it.  Here’s my hand.  Come and live with me, and damme but the best room in the house, and the best horse in the stable, shall be at thy service.”

I declare to you I was strongly moved at this instance of nature breaking her way through such a lump of flesh.  I forgave the fellow in a moment all his crimes of having been born in wedlock and inheriting my estate.  I shook the hand he offered me, to convince him that I bore him no ill will; and then making my way through the gaping crowd of toad-eaters, bade adieu to my uncle’s domains forever.  This is the last I have seen or heard of my cousin, or of the domestic concerns of Doubting Castle.