To add to our newly-acquired sense of consideration and of high
pedigree, the family chariot, after taking Miss Selby to Bath, came
up post to London to be touched up at the coachbuilder's, have the
escutcheon altered so as to impale the Griffith coat instead of the
Selby, and finally to convey us to our new abode, in preparation for
which all its boxes came to be packed.

A chariot! You young ones have as little notion of one as of a
British war-chariot armed with scythes. Yet people of a certain
grade were as sure to keep their chariot as their silver tea-pot;
indeed we knew one young couple who started in life with no other
habitation, but spent their time as nomads, in visits to their
relations and friends, for visits WERE visits then.

The capacities of a chariot were considerable. Within, there was a
good-sized seat for the principal occupants, and outside a dickey
behind, and a driving box before, though sometimes there was only
one of these, and that transferable. The boxes were calculated to
hold family luggage on a six months' tour. There they lay on the
spare-room floor, ready to be packed, the first earnest of our new
possessions--except perhaps the five-pound note my father gave each
of us four elder ones, on the day the balance at the bank was made
over to him. There was the imperial, a grand roomy receptacle,
which was placed on the top of the carriage, and would not always go
upstairs in small houses; the capbox, which fitted into a curved
place in front of the windows, and could not stand alone, but had a
frame to support it; two long narrow boxes with the like infirmity
of standing, which fitted in below; square ones under each seat; and
a drop box fastened on behind. There were pockets beneath each
window, and, curious relic in name and nature of the time when every