from The Century Dictionary and Cyclopedia

  • n. A light spring-cart.


Sorry, no etymologies found.


  • Many an honest holiday-maker with his family wadded into a tax-cart, many a cheap dandy working his way home on his weary hack, admired that brilliant turn-out, and thought, no doubt, how happy those “swells” must be.

    The History of Pendennis

  • “Senior Wranglers at Cambridge, not Oxford,” said the scholar, with a knowing air; and would probably have been more confidential, but that suddenly there appeared on the cliff in a tax-cart, drawn by a bang-up pony, dressed in white flannel coats, with mother-of-pearl buttons, his friends the Tutbury Pet and the

    Vanity Fair

  • Driving from a most interesting breakfast at Roehampton (where a delightful Hebrew convert had spoken, oh! so graciously!), Mrs. Newcome — in her state-carriage, with her bay horses — met Tom, her son-inlaw, in a tax-cart, excited by drink, and accompanied by all sorts of friends, male and female.

    The Newcomes

  • Farmer Subsoil would take her thither in his tax-cart.

    Barchester Towers

  • Very different was the reception Bingham Blake got, as he drove up with his tandem and tax-cart: half-a-dozen had kept themselves idle, each in the hope of being the lucky individual to come in for

    The Kellys and the O'Kellys

  • Mr Mangle, the farmer, as it happened, was going tomorrow morning in his tax-cart as far as Framley Mill, and would be delighted if

    The Last Chronicle of Barset

  • They went in a tax-cart, with a tandem horse, driven very knowingly by George de Courcy; and the fourth seat on the back of the vehicle was occupied by a servant, who was to look after the horses at Gatherum.

    Doctor Thorne

  • He ordered the tax-cart and two horses to drive tandem.

    Wylder's Hand

  • When Rachel heard the clang of hoofs and the rattle of the tax-cart driving down the mill-road, at a pace so unusual, a vague augury of evil smote her.

    Wylder's Hand

  • ‘On that night, Miss Lake, the 29th September, you drove in Mr. Mark Wylder’s tax-cart to the Dollington station, where, notwithstanding your veil, and your caution, you were seen and recognised.

    Wylder's Hand

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