Such quarrels were very frequent, not only at this time, but right on through the eighteenth century. Swift in one of his letters to Stella mentions an accident due to the carelessness of a chairman. “The chairman that carried me,” he says, “squeezed a great fellow against a wall, who wisely turned his back, and broke one of the side glasses in a thousand pieces. I fell a scolding, pretended I was like to be cut to pieces, and made them set down the chair in the Park, while they picked out the bits of glasses: and when I paid them, I quarrelled still, so they dared not grumble, and I came off for my fare: but I was plaguily afraid they would have said, God bless your honour, won’t you give us something for our glass?” Swift was the author of an amusing satire on the same subject, wherein coach and sedan were no better friends than of old. A CONFERENCE BETWEEN SIR HARRY PIERCE’S CHARIOT AND MRS. D. STOPFORD’S CHAIR CHARIOT “My pretty dear Cuz, tho’ I’ve roved the town o’er, To dispatch in an hour some visits a score; Though, since first on the wheels, I’ve been everyday At the ’Change, at a raffling, at church, or a play; And the fops of the town are pleased with the notion Of calling your slave the perpetual motion;— Though oft at your door I have whined [out] my love As my knight does grin his at your Lady above; Yet, ne’er before this though I used all my care, I e’er was so happy to meet my dear Chair; And since we’re so near, like birds of a feather, Let’s e’en, as they say, set our horses together. CHAIR “By your awkward address, you’re that thing which should carry, With one footman behind, our lover Sir Harry. By your language, I judge, you think me a wench; He that makes love to me, must make it in French. Thou that’s drawn by two beasts, and carry’st a brute, Canst thou vainly e’er hope, I’ll answer thy suit? Though sometimes you pretend to appear with your six, No regard to their colour, their sexes you mix: Then on the grand-paw you’d look very great, With your new-fashion’d glasses, and nasty old seat. Thus a beau I have seen strut with a cock’d hat, And newly rigg’d out, with a dirty cravat. You may think that you make a figure most shining, But it’s plain that you have an old cloak for a lining. Are those double-gilt nails? Where’s the lustre of Kerry, To set off the Knight, and to finish the Jerry? If you hope I’ll be kind, you must tell me what’s due In George’s-lane for you, ere I’ll buckle to. CHARIOT