And now, having already made this chapter something of a "fugitive piece," I will, for the second time, make use of the fairy wand, and by one of its miraculous touches translate us back again to the Brighton road, which, being the one on which so many amateurs have become professionals, may be not inappropriately called the border land between them, and, therefore, as rather pointed out for considering the difference between them. Of course, in one sense, the demarcation is as plain as the nose on one's face. The man who drives for pay is a professional, at any rate for a time; but the question I would now raise is not that, but one more likely to prove an apple of discord--I mean what allowance should be made between them in estimating their proficiency in driving. What might be good for one might be decidedly under the mark for the other. To more fully explain my meaning, I will take a strong case. Sir St. Vincent Cotton, as is well known, drove professionally for some years on the Brighton road after having been acknowledged to be a first-rate amateur, and the question is, how soon after taking to the box professionally could he have been expected to pass muster with the professionals? Perhaps some will say that he was quite as good a coachman before as after he took to the bench professionally. No doubt his is a strong case, and I only give it as one in point; but, for myself, I very much doubt whether, even in those _coachy_ days, it was possible for a man to get sufficient practice, only as an amateur, to make him equal to one who drove professionally. Doubtless, among the professionals there were men who never with any amount of practice became good coachmen; but then we must remember that in all classes and conditions of men some are to be found who, from indolence or taking no pride in their work, never even reach mediocrity, whilst others are too conceited to learn; but these were in a small minority, and in driving, as in all other crafts, practice makes perfect. If it confers no other benefit, it must strengthen the muscles, and, no doubt, imparts a handiness, readiness, and resource which nothing else can produce. The difference is, perhaps, oftener to be observed in the whip hand than the rein one. A well-practised professional with a pair of sluggish leaders will make every cut tell, and then bring the thong up to his hand without staring about to see where the wind had blown it to; whereas, it would too often be the case with an amateur that, for want of having had sufficient practice, half his cuts fell flat, and not unfrequently, especially on a windy or wet day, he will get hung up in some part of the harness or in the pole chains, or possibly even round the stock of the wheel.