THE TROTTING-HORSE OF AMERICA. 251 



cost me ' eighty,' and who is so foolish and flighty that she 

 will never be able to make a square trot in her life." 



The drover could give no satisfactory answer to Mr. Vie- 

 lee's inquiries about the origin, or, to speak more profession- 

 ally, about the pedigree, of the little bay mare. All that he 

 could say was, that he had bought her in Utica of a young 

 man who had for some time been endeavoring to dispose of 

 her in connection with another little mare, which he had 

 vainly endeavored to drive with her in double harness. The 

 fault of the team laid against the crazy disposition of the 

 little creature whom we have now under consideration ; so, 

 when they were offered for sale together, in a place where 

 both of them were known, our intractable little beauty was 

 invariably rejected, and finally the owner was obliged to 

 dispose singly of her mate. 



This was all the drover could tell about the matter ; but, 

 had he been thoroughly instructed in the antecedents of the 

 little bay mare, he might have told him that she was foaled 

 in Oneida County, near Utica, out of a mare the very pic- 

 ture of herself, who had been most happily united with a 

 fine stallion, named One-Eyed Hunter, who was by Ken- 

 tucky Hunter, well known among the thoroughbreds of the 

 Western and Southern States. She was docked with a 

 jack-knife before she was an hour old, and stood on her feet 

 at that time, having the same gray hairs at the roots of her 

 tail that she brought into Washington Hollow, and carries 

 to this day. Her owner, Mr. Tracy, kept her till she was 

 four years old, when, finding her wilful and unserviceable, 

 he disposed of her to Mr. William H. Congdon of Smyrna, 

 Chenango County, for the sum of thirteen dollars. Mr. 

 Congdon, after keeping her a while, disposed of her to Kelly 

 & Eichardson for sixty-eight dollars ; and, after changing 

 hands once or twice more, she found herself at last standing 

 as we have described her, on a bright Sunday morning, in 

 the centre of Washington Hollow, listening attentively to 

 the conversation that was passing between the drover and 

 Mr. Jonathan Vielee. 



