I have told you that I was called to the bar, and for ten months I attended the courts in my gown and wig, sitting in the back benches, and listening to the eloquence of my seniors, with a light pocket, and frequently a heavy heart. I was sitting one evening in my chambers, as they were called--though they contained nothing but an old writing-desk, two chairs, and a few law books; I was poring over a volume of olden statutes, mincing a biscuit, and sipping a glass of cold water, when the bell rang, and on opening the door, my old master, the solicitor, stood before me, and he had what appeared to be a brief in his hand. My heart began to beat audibly in my bosom. "Well, Roderic," said he, entering, "I always promised that I would do what I could for you, and now I am determined to bring you out. Here is a case that may make your fortune. You will have scope for argument, feeling, declamation. If you do not produce an impression in it, you are not the person I take you for. Don't tremble, don't be too diffident; but, as I say to you, throw your soul into it, and I will answer for it making your fortune. Here are fifty guineas as a retaining fee, and it is not unlikely that my fair client to-morrow may give you fifty more as a refresher." "Fifty guineas!" I involuntarily exclaimed, and my eyes glanced upon the money. I felt as though my fortune were already made, and that I should be rich for ever. "Come, Roderic," said he, "don't think about the retainer, but think of the case--think of getting another." "What is the case?" I inquired. "That," replied he, "your brief, which is as clearly and fully drawn up as if you had done it yourself, will explain to you. In the meantime, I may state, that your client, the defendant, is a young lady of matchless beauty, great fortune and accomplishments. When you see her, you will be inspired. She is the orphan daughter, and now the sole surviving child, of an officer who had extensive dealings with a house in the city. Of late years the prosecutor was his broker. Some time after the father's death, the prosecutor made overtures of marriage to the defendant, which she rejected. He has now, stimulated by revenge, set up a fictitious claim for twenty thousand pounds, which he alleges her father owed to the house of which he is now at the head; and for this claim he now drags my client into court. Now, I trust that we shall not only be able to prove that the debt is fictitious, but to establish that the documents which he holds, bearing the colonel's signature, are forgeries. It is a glorious case for you--here is your brief, and I shall call on you again in the morning." I took the brief from his hand, glanced my eyes upon the back of it, and read the words--"_Taylor_ against _Mortimer_." "Taylor against Mortimer!" I exclaimed, starting from my seat; "what Taylor?--what Mortimer? Not Jessy--my Jessy? Not the villain, Esau?--the supplanter----the----"