Besides, the woodwork may be bad, or “going,” and there may be flaws in the springs, the wheels. The roof may leak, and a hundred and fifty other disagreeables be found out after you fairly start on the road.
I would as soon buy an old feather-bed in the east end of London as an old caravan.
Get your car then from a really good maker, one who could not afford to put a bad article out of hand.
I have neither object nor desire to advertise the Bristol Waggon Company, but it is due to them to say that having paid a fair price, I got from them a splendid article. But of course there may be other makers as good or better. I do not know.
II. Style of Build.
You may copy the Wanderer if so minded. I do not think that I myself, after two years on the road, could improve on her, except that the shutters are difficult to draw on and off, and ought to run upon castors.
However, few caravannists might care to have so long and large a chariot as mine; one about twelve feet long would serve every purpose, and be easily moved with one good horse. It would also be more easily drawn into meadows at night.
A caravan, both exteriorly and interiorly, is capable of an infinite amount of ornamentation. But I do not think a gentleman gipsy’s carriage ought to, in any way, resemble that of a travelling showman, although it certainly should not be like a Salvationist’s “barrow.”
The entrance door may be at the side, or behind, as in the Wanderer.