The air and manner of a coachman have been cleverly described by some periodical writers. Let us, say they, suppose the horses put to their coach, all ready for a start--the reins thrown across the off wheel-horse’s loins, with the ends hanging upon the middle terret of his pad, and the whip thrown across the backs of the wheelers.--The coachman makes his appearance. If he be a coachman, a judge will immediately perceive it; for, as a certain philosopher observes, “every situation in life serves for formation of character,” and none more so than a coachman’s. I was going to say--only let a judge see him come out of his office, pulling on his glove; but this I will say--let one see him walk round his horses, alter a coupling-rein, take up his whip and reins, and mount his box, and he will at once pronounce him a neat, or an awkward one.--The moment he has got his seat and made his start, you are struck with the perfect mastership of his art--the hand just over his left thigh, the arm without constraint, steady, and with a holding command, that keeps his horses like clockwork, yet, to a superficial observer, with reins quite loose. So firm and compact is he, that you seldom observe any shifting, except perhaps to take a shorter purchase for a run down hill, which he accomplishes with confidence and skill untinctured with imprudence. In a coachman, temper is also one of the essentials to a good workman.--We are told of a great artist, that, having four “rum ones” to deal with, and being unable to make them work to please him, he threw the reins on the footboard, and exclaimed, “Now, d--n your eyes, divide it among you, for I will be troubled with you no longer.” The impertinences of passengers sometimes increase this irritability. In steam-vessels, they adopt the plan of writing in large letters on the wheel which directs the helm, “Do not talk to the helmsman.” It would be as well in some coaches to have the same rule adopted--“Do not babble to the coachman.”