Thither I now repaired, some secret prompting suggesting that it might afford me the wished-for means of vengeance. My disappointment was indeed great that no compact roll of bank-notes, no thick woollen stocking close packed with guineas, or even crown-pieces, met my hand. A heavy bundle of papers and parchment was all I could find; and these bore such an unhappy family resemblance to the cause of all my misfortunes that I was ready to tear them to pieces in very spite. A mere second's reflection suggested a better course. There was a certain attorney in Kilbeggan, one Morissy, my father's bitterest enemy; indeed, my parent's influence in the Session court had almost ruined and left him without a client. The man of law and precedents in vain struggled against decisions which a secret and irresponsible adviser contrived beforehand, and Morissy's knowledge and experience were soon discovered to be valueless. It was a game in which skill went for nothing. This gentleman's character at once pointed him out as the fitting agent of vengeance on my father, and by an hour after daybreak did I present myself before him in all the consciousness of my injured state. Mr. Morissy's reception of me was not over gracious. "Well, ye spawn of the devil," said he, as he turned about from a small fragment of looking-glass, before which he was shaving, "what brings ye here? Bad luck to ye; the sight of ye's made me cut myself." "I'm come, sir, for a bit of advice, sir," said I, putting my hand to my hat in salutation. "Assault and battery!" said he, with a grin on the side of his mouth where the soap had been shaved away. "Yes, sir; an aggravated case," said I, using the phrase of the Sessions. "Why don't ye apply to yer father? He's Crown lawyer and Attorney-General; faith, he 's more besides,--he 's judge and jury too." "And more than that in the present suit, sir," says I, following up his illustration; "he's the defendant here." "What! is that his doing?" "Yes, sir; his own hand and mark," said I, laughing. "That's an ugly cut, and mighty near the eye! But sure, after all, you 're his child." "Very true, sir; it's only paternal correction; but I have something else!" "What's that, Con my boy?" said he; for we were now grown very familiar. "It is this, sir," said I; "this roll of papers that I found hid in the thatch,--a safe place my father used to make his strong-box." "Let us see!" said Morissy, sitting down and opening the package. Many were old summonses discharged, notices to quit withdrawn, and so on; but at last he came to two papers pinned together, at sight of which he almost jumped from his chair. "Con," says he, "describe the place you found them in." I went over all the discovery again. "Did ye yourself see your father put in papers there?" "I did, sir." "On more than one occasion?" "At least a dozen times, sir." "Did ye ever remark any one else putting papers there?"