The appearance of the chamber I occupied might, indeed, have led me to imagine that the heir of Fitzsimonsburgh Castle, county Donegal, was not as yet reconciled with his wealthy parents; and, had I been an English lad, probably my suspicion and distrust would have been aroused instantly.  But perhaps, as the reader knows, we are not so particular in Ireland on the score of neatness as people are in this precise country; hence the disorder of my bedchamber did not strike me so much.  For were not all the windows broken and stuffed with rags even at Castle Brady, my uncle’s superb mansion?  Was there ever a lock to the doors there, or if a lock, a handle to the lock or a hasp to fasten it to?  So, though my bedroom boasted of these inconveniences, and a few more; though my counterpane was evidently a greased brocade dress of Mrs. Fitzsimons’s, and my cracked toilet-glass not much bigger than a half-crown, yet I was used to this sort of ways in Irish houses, and still thought myself in that of a man of fashion.  There was no lock to the drawers, which, when they did open, were full of my hostess’s rouge-pots, shoes, stays, and rags; so I allowed my wardrobe to remain in my valise, but set out my silver dressing-apparatus upon the ragged cloth on the drawers, where it shone to great advantage.

When Sullivan appeared in the morning, I asked him about my mare, which he informed me was doing well.  I then bade him bring me hot shaving-water, in a loud dignified tone.

‘Hot shaving-water!’ says he, bursting out laughing (and I confess not without reason).  ‘Is it yourself you’re going to shave?’ said he.  ’And maybe when I bring you up the water I’ll bring you up the cat too, and you can shave her.’  I flung a boot at the scoundrel’s head in reply to this impertinence, and was soon with my friends in the parlour for breakfast.  There was a hearty welcome, and the same cloth that had been used the night before:  as I recognised by the black mark of the Irish-stew dish, and the stain left by a pot of porter at supper.

My host greeted me with great cordiality; Mrs. Fitzsimons said I was an elegant figure for the Phoenix; and indeed, without vanity, I may say of myself that there were worse-looking fellows in Dublin than I. I had not the powerful chest and muscular proportion which I have since attained (to be exchanged, alas! for gouty legs and chalk-stones in my fingers; but ’tis the way of mortality), but I had arrived at near my present growth of six feet, and with my hair in buckle, a handsome lace jabot and wristbands to my shirt, and a red plush waistcoat, barred with gold, looked the gentleman I was born.  I wore my drab coat with plate buttons, that was grown too small for me, and quite agreed with Captain Fitzsimons that I must pay a visit to his tailor, in order to procure myself a coat more fitting my size.

‘I needn’t ask whether you had a comfortable bed,’ said he.  ’Young Fred Pimpleton (Lord Pimpleton’s second son) slept in it for seven months, during which he did me the honour to stay with me, and if he was satisfied, I don’t know who else wouldn’t be.’