Our story is called "The Airship Towers of Trebizond", and it begins thuswise:
“Fuel my steam-camel, dear,” said my Aunt Dot, as she climbed down from this machine on her return from High Mass.
Myself, I favoured the original animal: more practical, less messy, and a more comfortable ride besides. Aunt Dot was quite the romantic, though. She had seized upon the advances of this new era and adopted them wholesale, much as she had seized upon and adopted me. I suited her needs entirely. I was educated and conversable; I was not afraid of progress; indeed, I embraced it and embodied it. She liked to brandish me like a banner.
Also I was healthy and vigorous, undisturbed by dirt so long as it was transitory, and willing to shovel coal.