Brougham

“Yes,” he continued, glancing out of the window. “A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties.”

It was flood-tide along Fifth Avenue; motor, brougham, and victoria swept by on the glittering current; pretty women glanced out from limousine and tonneau; young men of his own type, silk-hatted, frock-coated, the crooks of their walking sticks tucked up under their left arms, passed on the Park side.

The shooting motor cars, more like spiders in the moon than terrestrial objects, the thundering drays, the jingling hansoms, and little black broughams, made her think of the world she lived in.

Mr. H. R. Pope writes that in 1879 his father bought a new brougham in London, and the vehicle was taken to Victoria Station for conveyance to Brighton by passenger train. It so happened that the carriage truck was attached to the train by which Mr. Pope and his father were returning to Sussex, and the stationmaster allowed them to make the journey in the brougham.