It is not only in the art of driving that this difference is to be met with, but it extends to huntsmen and jockeys. In neither of these occupations does a gentleman attain to sufficient proficiency to be called more than a good amateur, which implies that he is not equal to a professional, or at any rate to a good one. Now, why is this? Surely not because he was born a gentleman, and is, therefore, disqualified by nature. Still less, because education has unfitted him. No--it is simply because he does not give up his time to it, but only follows it as a recreation. Cricket might, perhaps, at first sight, contradict this rule, but in truth, I believe it only tends to confirm it. The gentlemen are able to hold their own with the players, but then, whilst the cricket season lasts, they work as hard as the professionals. To come to the point, then, how soon after taking to the bench professionally ought an amateur to cease to claim any indulgence in criticism? I do not, of course, mean a muff, whose natural inaptitude might render him proof against any amount of practice, but one called "a good amateur whip;" and, probably, it would not be erring much to say that a period of from one to two years, with sixty to eighty miles of driving a day, including a fair share of night work, is sufficient to land him at the top of the profession, if the _gift_ is in him. Talking of the "gift," reminds me of a conversation which once took place between the late Mr. J. Taylor, who kept the "Lion" yard in Shrewsbury, and the well known "Chester Billy." They had been talking on the subject of driving, and the latter finished it by saying, "Well, master, it is a gift," to which the other replied, "It is, Billy, and it's a pity you never got it." I need hardly say, the old man turned away rather disgusted, and, no doubt, with the firm conviction that his master was no judge. Perhaps, in opposition to what I have said, I may be directed to some instances where very fine samples of driving have been executed by gentlemen. I will only mention two of them. The first took place in times long ago, and is thus described by Nimrod. "Perhaps one of the finest specimens of good coachmanship was performed by Sir Felix Agar. He made a bet, which he won, that he would drive his own four horses in hand up Grosvenor Place, down the passage into Tattersall's yard, around the pillar which stands in the centre of it, and back again into Grosvenor Place, without either of the horses going at a slower pace than trot." So long a time has expired since this feat was performed, and all spectators have passed away, that it is impossible to criticise it in any way. Many, however, must be still alive who remember the old Tattersall's, and they will be able to appreciate the difficulty of the task.