Again at night horses always seem to be going faster than they really are, and perhaps this may have had something to do with the idea that horses go better by night than day, so happily explained, as Mr. Reynoldson tells us, by Billy Williams, who said it was because the driver had had his dinner. Apropos of Billy Williams, I may relate an anecdote of him, which I had from undeniable authority, but which I do not think is generally known. His Honour, as he was called, the late Honourable Thomas Kenyon, used not unfrequently to ask him, or some other coachman, to spend a day or two at Pradoe, and he also made a practice of driving his own drag to Chester races on the Cup day. On one of these occasions it happened that Billy was at Pradoe, and was to accompany the party to Chester. The day being hot, and His Honour thinking that Billy, whose get up was always breeches and top boots, would be more comfortable in lighter clothing, made him a present of a pair of white trousers, such as were commonly worn by gentlemen of that period. Billy having received them, went to put them on, and returned looking quite smart and cool. It turned out, however, afterwards, that he had only worn them over his usual garments! There remains one other item to mention, which, though not absolutely a part of driving, is yet of so much importance that without it all knowledge may fail at an important crisis. Nerve is the article I mean, or what may be called the next door to it, that confidence which is begotten of practice. An inferior coachman with this is generally safer than one who is his superior in neatness and knowledge, but without this gift. When a man's nerve fails him, he loses his head, and then he is unable to make use of any knowledge he possesses, whereas, one with nerve and strength would pull through a difficulty and save an accident. Nerve, no doubt, is largely constitutional, but it is capable of being very much strengthened by use and practice. But of all things to try nerve commend me to the locomotive engine. Though I had driven coaches for many years under all imaginable circumstances, and my nerve had never failed me, I must confess that I never thoroughly understood what it meant till I had had the experience of a ride on a locomotive engine. To find myself travelling at a high speed, without there being the slightest power of guidance, caused a sensation I had never experienced before. All that the engine-driver could have done, if a pointsman had made a mistake, was to try and stop the engine before it ran into anything else; whereas, on a road, when the driver has the power of guiding as well as stopping, if he is unable quite to accomplish the latter he may do so sufficiently to enable him to escape a collision. To explain my meaning I will shortly narrate what has happened to myself.