was substituted.  This adulteration no doubt was one cause of its losing its well-established reputation.  But Madeira wine has a quality which in itself proves its superiority over all other wines—­namely, that although no other wine can be passed off as Madeira, yet with Madeira the wine-merchants may imitate any other wine that is in demand.  What is the consequence? that Madeira, not being any longer in request as Madeira now that sherry is the “correct thing,” and there not being sufficient of the latter to meet the increased demand, most of the wine vended as sherry is made from the inferior Madeira wines.  Reader, if you have ever been in Spain, you may have seen the Xerez or sherry wine brought from the mountains to be put into the cask.  A raw goat-skin, with the neck-part and the four legs sewed up, forms a leathern bag, containing perhaps from fifteen to twenty gallons.  This is the load of one man, who brings it down on his shoulder exposed to the burning rays of the sun.  When it arrives, it is thrown down on the sand, to swelter in the heat with the rest, and remains there probably for days before it is transferred into the cask.  It is this proceeding which gives to sherry that peculiar leather twang which distinguishes it from other wines—­a twang easy to imitate by throwing into a cask of Cape wine a pair of old boots, and allowing them to remain a proper time.  Although the public refuse to drink Madeira as Madeira, they are in fact drinking it in every way disguised—­as port, as sherry, &c.; and it is a well-known fact that the poorer wines from the north side of the island are landed in the London Docks, and shipped off to the Continent, from whence they reappear in bottles as “peculiarly fine flavoured hock!”

Now, as it is only the indifferent wines which are thus turned into sherry,—­and the more inferior the wine, the more acid it contains,—­I think I have made out a clear case that people are drinking more acid than they did before this wonderful discovery of the medical gentlemen, who have for some years led the public by the nose.

There are, however, some elderly persons of my acquaintance who are not to be dissuaded from drinking Madeira, but who continue to destroy themselves by the use of this acid, which perfumes the room when the cork is extracted.  I did represent to one of them that it was a species of suicide, after what the doctors had discovered; but he replied, in a very gruff tone of voice, “May be, sir; but you can’t teach an old dog new tricks!”

I consider that the public ought to feel very much indebted to me for this expose.  Madeira wine is very low, while sherry is high in price.  They have only to purchase a cask of Madeira and flavour it with Wellington boots or ladies’ slippers, as it may suit their palates.  The former will produce the high-coloured, the latter the pale sherry.  Further, I consider that the merchants of Madeira are bound to send me a letter of thanks, with a pipe of Bual to prove its sincerity.  Now I recollect Stoddart did promise me some wine when he was last in England; but I suppose he has forgotten it.