Wagonette

The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart’s-tongue ferns.

Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering.

Our conversation was hampered by the presence of the driver of the hired wagonette, so that we were forced to talk of trivial matters when our nerves were tense with emotion and anticipation.

The cabs here are mostly covered waggonettes, with one horse. They hold four people; the sides have coloured glass, and behind the driver there is a window which is drawn aside when you communicate with him.

On glowing summer afternoons wagonettes came full of Americans and cultured suburbans to see the sepulchre

The departure was not unduly prolonged.[…]Within the door Mrs. Spoker hastily imparted to Mrs. Love a few final sentiments on the subject of Divine Intention in the disposition of buckets; farewells and last commiserations; a deep, guttural instigation to the horse; and the wheels of the waggonette crunched heavily away into obscurity.

He was a peasant worker from Tienchen County, and had been working on the dam, carrying earth and stone or pushing wagonettes here for half a year.