Ariot

In the camp at the bend of the river, with its dozen saloons aglare, Its gambling dens ariot, its gramophones all ablare;

It was a red drama of the primitive—destruction amuck and ariot, the primordial embodied in fangs and talons, gone mad and plunging in slaughter.

1896, Octave Thanet (pseudonym of Alice French, “The Captured Dream” in A Book of True Lovers, Chicago: Way & Williams, 1897, p. 262, […] a white fence glittered in front of an old fashioned garden ariot with scarlet salvias and crimson coxcomb.

The rooms seemed to run on for blocks, stuffed with automata human and animal assembled and in pieces, disappearing-cabinets, tables that would float in midair and other trick furniture, Davenport figures with dark-rimmed eyes in sinister faces, lengths of perfect black velvet and multicolored silk brocade a-riot with Oriental scenes […]