"If you have your driving-gloves on, and would like to take the reins over the next ten miles, you are welcome to do so." Of course the reply was in the affirmative. If a tyro accepted the offer, it was very easy to discover the difference between the professional and the unprofessional, which the horses themselves seemed to feel. They became sluggish; not all the "gee upping" and "go alonging," and the harmless use of the whip, the lash of which usually got entangled in the lamp or harness, could keep them up to their work. This was so apparent that some inside passenger would put his head out of the window and inquire the cause of the creeping pace they were proceeding at. "A heavy piece of road, Sir," responded the coachman, who thought more of the guinea or half-guinea he expected to receive than of the loss of time. "Why, I declare," said the inquiring gentleman, resuming his seat, "there's a young fellow driving, and I rather think it must be his first attempt!" "Oh, let me out!" exclaims an elderly spinster; "we shall be overturned." "Disgraceful!" chimed in another. "It was only last week that the Windsor coach met with an accident through the reckless driving of some inexperienced fellow." "I'll report you," said an old gentleman, just roused from his slumbers. "I paid my fare to be driven by the proper coachman, and not by a puppy who probably never sat behind four horses in his life." "And I'll have you dismissed, coachman, for risking our lives," added another. Then came a jerk, which caused all the insides to break forth into the following exclamations: "There, I told you!" "We are going over!" "Do, pray, take the reins, Mr. Coachman!" In the mean time the "swell dragsman" and his young friend were laughing heartily at the fears of their precious burden. "Lots of fear, ma'am, but no danger," said the former, while the latter inquired where the coachman was going to "shoot his rubbish." When some experienced amateur took the reins, and with the aid of the whip judiciously applied, sent the sluggish steed along at the rate of ten miles an hour, the scene above described again took place, for the timid female passenger, like the widows of Ashur, was "loud in her wail." In those days young Etonians, Harrovians, collegians, and officers were all taught to drive by the professional coachmen on the road, and anyone that could manage a refractory team over a stage or two of ten miles was deemed a proficient, and fit to belong to the four-horse driving club.