I now proceed, but not without misgivings, to justify the confidence thus expressed, and to fulfill the prediction implied, so far as regards the Brontës in Ireland. I propose in the following pages to supply the Irish straws of Brontë history which I have been accumulating for nearly half a century. I have waited in hopes that some more skillful hand might undertake the task, but as no one else, since the death of Captain Mayne Reid, has the requisite information, the story of the Irish Brontës must be told by me, or remain untold. My first classical teacher was the Reverend William McAllister, of Ryans, near Newry, a man of brilliant imagination, who under favorable conditions might have taken rank with John Bunyan or William Blake. He had known Patrick Brontë (Charlotte's father), and had often heard old Hugh, the grandfather, narrate to a spell-bound audience, the incidents which formed the ground-work of "Wuthering Heights." He used to take me for long walks in the fields, and tell me the story of Hugh Brontë's early life, or narrate other Brontë adventures, which he assured me were just as worthy to be recounted as the wrath of Achilles or the wanderings of Pius Æneas. It thus happened that I wrote screeds of the Brontë novels myself before a line of them had been penned at Haworth. I do not think that Branwell Brontë really meant to deceive when he spoke of having written "Wuthering Heights," for the story in outline must have been common property at Haworth, and the children of the vicarage were all scribblers. Through my teacher's relatives, who lived quite near to the Brontës, I was able to verify facts and incidents, and the pains thus taken has fixed them indelibly upon my mind. At a later period, I had still better opportunities for forming a sound judgment concerning the Irish Brontës, for the pleasantest part of my undergraduate holidays was spent at the manse of the Reverend David McKee of Ballynaskeagh. Mr. McKee was a great educationalist, and prepared many students for college who afterwards became famous. This great and noble man, who stood six feet six inches high, was the friend of the Brontës, as well as their near neighbor. He recognized the Brontë genius, where others only saw what was wild and unconventional. Mr. McKee's home was the center of mental activity in that neighborhood, and the early copies of the novels that came to the "Uncle Brontë's" were cut, read, and criticised by Mr. McKee, and his criticisms forwarded to the Haworth nieces. Great was the joy of those uncles and aunts when Mr. McKee's approval was enthusiastically given. There are also several other persons, some of them still living, who knew the Brontës, and have kindly communicated to me the information they possessed, so that I have had illumination from various points on this many-sided family. CHAPTER I. THE DARK FOUNDLING.