|HAVE you ever seen at the beginning of a Great Law Case a certain hush and stir among the gentlemen of the long robe, and then a young man rise--not much over forty, that is--and inform “my lud” that his unfortunate client was placed at a sad disadvantage, for that, through the unexpected but unavoidable absence of his leader, the whole case must needs devolve upon his own (the junior's) shoulders? The circumstance is of course most lamentable, but still the young counsel (if he is worth a guinea fee) has a certain confident radiance about him, for he feels that his opportunity has come at last, and that he has but “to grasp the skirts of happy chance,” to be borne from that moment woolsackwards. So was it with Mr Samuel Hicks, horse-jockey unattached, when suddenly called upon to fill the vacant seat of Brother Withers, absent without leave. To ride a Derby at a moment's notice was, to one in his position, almost what to take the command of the Mediterranean squadron would be to a young gentleman at the naval school. But not a trace of indecision was visible on the young centaur's countenance. “I will do my best, gentlemen,” said he modestly; then added, with the irrepressible assurance of his class, “and I think I know how to ride.” “You know nothing, and are an infernal young fool,” returned the trainer sharply. “You never were outside of such a horse as _Menelaus_ in your life. If he is in a good temper, a child might steer him; but if he jibs--if he stands stock-still in that great race an hour hence, as he is as like to do as not--what will you do then?” “Bless my soul, sir,” cried the boy, his golden Future--not without “mother in a comfortable cottage, and easy for life,” let us hope, in the foreground--all swept away by this relentless prediction--“Bless my soul, sir, I think I should cut his throat.” “I like this fellow,” cried Derrick, slapping the lad upon the back. “Look you, here is twenty pounds, which you may keep in any case, and you had better take it now, for if you lose the race, there will be plenty of folks to want all my money. But if you win, boy, I will make it Two Hundred.” “And I will make it Four,” added Master Walter fervently. “So, you see, you will be a made man for life,” remarked the trainer kindly. “But listen to me, Sam, or else all this glitter will be the merest moonshine. Be sure never touch your horse with whip or spur; for Withers, I have noticed, never did. But if the beast jibs--I saw Jack do this at the trial-race, and once before--snatch at his ear. There may be some secret in the way of handling it, but there is no time for finding that out. Do you twist it hard.” “O sir, I'll twist it off, but he shall win,” returned the jockey plaintively; and off he went to don his new owner's colours--black and red--as proudly as an ensign to his first battle-field.