e
that his father, the laird, died and he succeeded to the Scots properties
of Wardhouse and Kildrummy Castle.

The law with reference to the forfeiture of lands held by Catholics had
become practically void, so that he duly succeeded to the estates. The
old laird had driven over in his coach to the nearest Catholic place of
worship and had been received back into the Church of his fathers.
Afterwards he had given a great feast to his friends, at which plenty of
good old port was drunk to celebrate the occasion. He drove back to his
home, and on arrival at the house was found dead in the coach. So we
children, when told this story, said that he had only got to Heaven by
the skin of his teeth.

His successor, my grandfather, John David, died in 1850 in Spain, and my
father's elder brother, Pedro Carlos (1806-1857), became the laird and
took up his residence in the old home. He broke the record in driving the
mail coach from London to York without leaving the box seat. And later
on, in Aberdeen, he drove his four-in-hand at full gallop into Castlehill
Barracks. Anyone who knows the old gateway will appreciate the feat.

On his death in 1857, his son, my cousin, Juan Jose (1837-1866),
succeeded to the property. He, of course, had also been brought up in
Spain, and was married to a cousin, and sister of the Conde de Mirasol,
but had no children. When he took up his residence as laird, most of his
friends, naturally, were Spanish visitors whom he amused by building a
bull-fighting ring not far from the house, importing bulls from Spain and
holding amateur bull-fights on Sunday afternoons. This was a sad blow
indeed to the sedate Presbyterians in the neighbourhood. His life,
however, was short, and, as he left no children, the properties passed to
my father, Carlos Pedro (1814-1897), by entail.

It is necessary to have written this short history of the family, from my
great grandfather's time, to let you know how I came to be born in Spain,
and how our branch of the family was the only one of the clan which
remained Catholic in spite of the old Scots law.

I would like to tell you something now about Jerez, the place where I was
born, and where the sherry white wine comes from. Yet all the wine is not
really white. There is good brown sherry, and there is just as good
golden sherry, and there is Pedro Ximenez. If you haven't tasted them,
try them as soon as you get the chance. You'll like the last two--and
very much--aft