THE TROTTING-HORSE OF AMERICA. 83 



there is a class that begin from a walk in an ambling pace, 

 and go from that into the finest kind of a fast and steady 

 trot. Some of our very best trotters of old times, and 

 modern days as well, have had this habit of going off in a 

 little pacing amble before they squared away in the flying 

 trot. I like this kind. They begin with this kind of 

 dainty amble, and some might think that they couldn't tret 

 much; but it is only like the play of the tiger before ho 

 makes his spring. It is interesting to note the difference 

 in trotting-horses as they begin, before they get into the 

 stride. Old Topgallant was one of those that go ambling 

 off, though it was not invariable with him : it was with 

 Tacony and with Lady Moscow. Duchess, w r ho beat Lady 

 Suffolk, was another that began w r ith this sort of amble. 

 Sontag was another ; and, more than that, she was a natural 

 pacer before they made a trotter of her. It may be judged 

 that she was a good trotter ; for when Whelan had her she 

 beat Flora Temple, who was in Warren Peabody's hands. 

 But Flora did not stay beat long. The very next week I 

 took her, and beat Whelan and Sontag without much 

 trouble. Three of the best mares in the country now may 

 be noticed as going off with the kind of dainty amble that I 

 have mentioned as a characteristic of Topgallant, Tacony, 

 Lady Moscow, and Sontag. Mr. Bonner's gray mare 

 Peerless always does it, and so does the famous chestnut 

 Lady Palmer. The other I now call to mind is the young 

 gray mare that Dan Pfifer has, Mr. Lorillard's Blonde. 

 She goes off in just such a way. This young mare is going 

 to be very remarkable if she has luck. She was by Hoag- 

 land's Gray Messenger, and her dam by Old Abdallah. 

 The old mare was a vicious jade, and of no use whatever 

 except for the blood that was in her. She could kick 

 higher than a man's head, and frightened one or two in this 

 neighborhood, who tried to drive her, into fits. But the 

 union between her and Hoagland's horse just hit the bull's- 

 eye. The produce, Blonde, has been in Pfifer's hands ever 



