Then, at college, he became illustrious among rowers and cricketers, renowned as a pistol shot, dreaded as a singlestick player.  No wine parties in the university were such wine parties as his; tradesmen gave him the first choice of everything that was new; young ladies in the town fell in love with him by dozens; young tutors with a tendency to dandyism, copied the cut of his coat and the tie of his cravat; even the awful heads of houses looked leniently on his delinquencies.  The gay, hearty, handsome young English gentleman carried a charm about him that subdued everybody.  Though I was his favourite butt, both at school and college, I never quarrelled with him in my life.  I always let him ridicule my dress, manners, and habits in his own reckless, boisterous way, as if it had been a part of his birthright privilege to laugh at me as much as he chose.

Thus far, my father had no worse anxieties about him than those occasioned by his high spirits and his heavy debts.  But when he returned home—­when the debts had been paid, and it was next thought necessary to drill the free, careless energies into something like useful discipline—­then my father’s trials and difficulties began in earnest.

It was impossible to make Ralph comprehend and appreciate his position, as he was desired to comprehend and appreciate it.  The steward gave up in despair all attempts to enlighten him about the extent, value, and management of the estates he was to inherit.  A vigorous effort was made to inspire him with ambition; to get him to go into parliament.  He laughed at the idea.  A commission in the Guards was next offered to him.  He refused it, because he would never be buttoned up in a red coat; because he would submit to no restraints, fashionable or military; because in short, he was determined to be his own master.  My father talked to him by the hour together, about his duties and his prospects, the cultivation of his mind, and the example of his ancestors; and talked in vain.  He yawned and fidgetted over the emblazoned pages of his own family pedigree, whenever they were opened before him.

In the country, he cared for nothing but hunting and shooting—­it was as difficult to make him go to a grand county dinner-party, as to make him go to church.  In town, he haunted the theatres, behind the scenes as well as before; entertained actors and actresses at Richmond; ascended in balloons at Vauxhall; went about with detective policemen, seeing life among pickpockets and housebreakers; belonged to a whist club, a supper club, a catch club, a boxing club, a picnic club, an amateur theatrical club; and, in short, lived such a careless, convivial life, that my father, outraged in every one of his family prejudices and family refinements, almost ceased to speak to him, and saw him as rarely as possible.  Occasionally, my sister’s interference reconciled them again for a short time; her influence, gentle as it was, was always powerfully felt for good, but she could not change my brother’s nature.  Persuade and entreat as anxiously as she might, he was always sure to forfeit the paternal favour again, a few days after he had been restored to it.