I hope I shall not weary the reader with these digressions, and make him exclaim, "What an egotistical old ass he is," but as I do not pretend to say that no improvements have taken place in the art of driving during the last forty or fifty years, I am endeavouring to enforce my recommendations with facts which have occurred to myself or those I have known. CHAPTER XXII. DRIVING. Well, the ideal coachman is now on his box, and I hope with straight knees, feet close together, and well out in front of him, shoulders well thrown back, and arms hanging naturally, and without any effort, to his sides. The left arm should be straight or nearly so, and hand lightly resting against the outside of the left thigh, with the wrist slightly rounded and the thumb a little turned up; that is to say, when the horses are drawing. The difference between his hand when in this position and when the elbow is bent and the hand brought up towards the body, should be just the difference between slack and tight pole-chains. When more power is wanted the hand will be raised and the wrist turned so as to bring the back of the hand to the front. This will throw the elbow a little forward, which will add greatly to the strength of the arm, and by this time the right hand would most probably have taken hold of the off-side reins, which of itself lends much to the power of the other. I fear I may have made myself but imperfectly understood, but perhaps the accompanying sketches may assist in explaining what I mean. The reins, by right, should never be allowed to slip through the fingers. It looks bad, to say the least of it, to see a coachman shortening them, and, at night especially, is not safe. I know that this is not easy to do, and perhaps impossible to most amateurs, as it requires constant practice to give the necessary strength to the fingers, and the difficulty is much enhanced by well cleaned reins, especially if they are thin. I know that many good coachmen differ with me as to the position of the left arm, and, like a dear old friend of mine, and good coachman, now no more, say that a straight arm is not neat. For myself I am unable to see the want of neatness in it; but even if there is I cannot consent to sacrifice strength, and I am convinced that no man can, under all circumstances, be thoroughly powerful on his box, who drives habitually with a bent arm. With the fear of being called egotistical before my eyes, I will again endeavour to enforce what I have advanced by a case in point.