CHARLES BACKMAN AND STONY FORD 



I knew that I should be called upon for a speech and 

 made some preparation: 



" On a day like this, when a nation strews flowers 

 on the graves of gallant dead, and the public heart 

 throbs with sentiment, it is not out of place to 

 speak briefly of the romantic side of breeding and 

 development. Emotional power is generally re- 

 garded as an evidence of soul life. The clod of the 

 valley is devoid of sentiment, and so the wild rose 

 growing by its side, although it blush with delicate 

 beauty, makes no impression on it. The man who 

 is dead to sentiment is dead to the fine feelings which 

 lift him above the dry sand of a desert. One horse 

 has more value than another, because he appeals with 

 greater force to the imagination. The 2.o8f of 

 Maud S. represents the limit of developed speed, and, 

 as fancy has been educated up to an enthusiastic 

 appreciation of speed, we bow down and worship 

 the great chestnut as a queen. Beyond the hum and 

 hurry of the metropolis, the loyal breeder holds 

 cheerful communion with nature. He is not lone- 

 some even in solitude. In his bedchamber, his library, 

 in the paddock, under the sheltering branches of a 

 tree, thought in all its majesty is with him. He 

 grasps and blends the mysterious currents of life 

 as calmly as the child grasps the silken threads with 

 which it plays, and, lo, form rises from the fabric 

 of which dreams are made, shadows become sub- 

 stance, and a thing of grace and animation appears 

 on the hillside to brush with its tiny hoofs, in the 

 gray and purple of morning, the dew from daisies 

 and forget-me-nots, and to stand with wisdom-ab- 

 sorbing eyes under the gold and crimson-bound sky 

 of evening. When we approach the subject of nomen- 



