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In this mission I have already travelled more than 50,000 miles and addressed 300,000 people, besides writing seven books upon the subject. I WAS born on May 22, 1859, at Picardy Place, Edinburgh, so named because in old days a colony of French Huguenots had settled there.
Such is the life which I have told in some detail in my Memories and Adventures. At the time of their coming it was a village outside the City walls, but now it is at the end of Queen Street, abutting upon Leith Walk.
These became so crushing upon landed gentry that my great-grandfather was driven from his estate and became a silk-mercer in Dublin, where "H. This family record was curiously confirmed by Monsignor Barry Doyle, destined, I think, for the highest honours of the Roman Church, who traces back to the younger brother of my great-grandfather.
I trust the reader will indulge me in my excursion into these family matters, which are of vital interest to the family, but must be tedious to the outsider.
My life has been dotted with adventures of all kinds.
My father was the youngest son of John Doyle, who under the nom de crayon of "H.
He had married one Katherine Pack, whose death-bed—or rather the white waxen thing which lay upon that bed—is the very earliest recollection of my life.
Her near relative—uncle, I think—was Sir Denis Pack, who led the Scottish brigade at Waterloo.
The original Doyle, or D'Oil, was a cadet-branch of the Staffordshire Doyles, which has produced Sir Francis Hastings Doyle and many other distinguished men.
This cadet shared in the invasion of Ireland and was granted estates in County Wexford, where a great clan rose of dependants, illegitimate children and others, all taking the feudal lord's name, just as the de Burghs founded the clan of Burke.