lerk brings him,
marked with the important "I gua."

I speak not to stall-fed juniors who have not to wait till their
merits are discovered, and who know that whosoever may watch and wait
and hope or despair, they shall have enough. All blessings go with
them; I never envied them their heritage. They are born to briefs
as the sparks fly upwards. I tell my experience to those who will
understand and appreciate every word I say--to men who have to make
their way in the world by their own exertions, and live on their own
labour or die of disappointment. There is one consolation even for the
wretched waiters on solicitors' favours, and that is, that the men who
have never had to work their way seldom rise to eminence or to any
position but respectable mediocrity. They never knew hope, and will
never know what it is to despair, or to nibble the short herbage of
the common where poorer creatures browse.

A father never looked on his firstborn with more pleasure than a
barrister on his first brief. If the Tower guns were announcing the
birth of an heir to the Throne, he would not look up to ask, "What is
that?"

It was the turning-point of my life, for had there been no first brief
pretty soon, I should have thought my kind relations' predictions were
about to be verified. But I should never have returned home; there was
still the Stage left, on which I hoped to act my part.

Strange to say, my first brief, like almost everything in my life, had
a little touch of humour in it.

I was instructed to defend a man at Hertford Sessions for stealing a
wheelbarrow, and unfortunately the wheelbarrow was found on him; more
unfortunate still--for I might have made a good speech on the subject
of the _animus furandi_--the man not only told the policeman he stole
it, but pleaded "Guilty" before the magistrates. I was therefore in
the miserable condition of one doomed to failure, take what line I
pleased. There was nothing to be said by way of defence, but I learnt
a lesson never to be forgotten.

Being a little too conscientious, I told my client, the attorney, that
in the circumstances I must return the brief, inasmuch as there was no
defence for the unhappy prisoner.

The attorney seemed to admire my principle, and instead of taking
offence, smiled in a good-natured manner, and said it was no doubt a
difficult task he had imposed on me, and he would exchange the brief
for another. He kept his word, and by-and-by returned with a