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Show Rippling' I Rhymes lly WALT MASON OLD M - I n The millionaire of other days thought he was cutting Ice, behind his team of trotting bays, that cost fa beastly price i well recall the sjlln-,ing sjlln-,ing rigs In which they rode In .-tale, the surreys, phaetons and gigs, with nags of trotting k.ii I used to SC them whizzing by. and envy turned I me sour; and thunder, how they used I to f ' Some seven miles an hour' I wonder what Jim Fisk would say, if he could shake his shroud, and for three quartan of a day mix with th" modern crowd He was a dead gam sport, was Jim, before he cashed his string, and nothing was too good for him he sampled everything. And when he In his carriage rode, behind his dappled team, he thought his outfit out-fit was an ode. and he, himself, a scream. Rut if he saw an nuto hum. nil quivering with power, from Tubs Dam to Kingdom Come, nt sixty mile' an hour well, w can only v.lldly i gue-s w hat .Ilmuel w ould say: but he i would think, with keen distress, of hif old two-hoss shav. The poor ma: with his Henry car thnt up the high-wav high-wav climbs, has luxurv that well might par the plntes of olden times. oo |