I felt a very singular sort of pleasure, in the anticipation of an interview with my mother and sister. They would not know me: for I was but a boy, when I parted from them in Dublin. They would scarce believe that the fair-skinned, curly-haired, little "Rolling Stone," could have become changed to a large bearded man--with a brow tanned by the South Sea gales, and the hot tropical beams of a Californian sun. Before leaving San Francisco I had obtained the address of the grandparents of Mr Leary's child; and also of several other people in Sydney--who would be likely to have known something of Leary himself residing there. From some of these persons I hoped to obtain information, that would guide me in the search after my relatives. Mr Davis--the father of the unfortunate girl who had eloped with Leary--was a respectable shopkeeper in the grocery line. As there could be no great difficulty in finding his shop, I resolved to make my first call upon the grocer. Notwithstanding my hatred to Leary, I felt some interest in the child he had helped to make an orphan. I wished to ascertain, whether it had been safely delivered into the charge of its grandparents--as also the gold, which the Californian miners had so liberally contributed towards its support. The next day after landing in Sydney, I made my call upon Mr Davis. I found his shop without any difficulty; and in it himself--an honest-looking man, apparently about fifty years of age. His business appeared to be in a flourishing condition: for the establishment was a large one, and to all appearance well-stocked with the articles required in a retail grocery. There were two young men behind the counter, besides Mr Davis himself, who, as I entered, was in the act of serving a customer. On the old gentleman being told, that if he was not too much engaged, I should like a few minutes' conversation with him, he handed the customer over to one of his assistants; and conducted me into a sitting-room that adjoined the shop. After complying with his request to be seated, I told him, I had lately arrived from California, where I had heard of him, and that I had now called to see him, on a business to me of some importance. I added, that the communication I had to make might awaken some unpleasant thoughts; but that I deemed it better to make it, rather than run the risk of incurring his displeasure, by not communicating with him at all. Mr Davis then civilly demanded to know the nature of my business, though from his tone I could tell, that he already half comprehended it. "If I am not mistaken," said I, "you have a child here, that has been sent you from California?" "Yes," answered he, "one was brought to me from there, about four months ago. I was told that it was my grandchild; and I received it as such." "And have you also received a sum of money, that was to have been intrusted to your care, for its benefit?" I asked.