Let me illustrate these general remarks by a few concrete instances. Woorak was a most brilliant two-year-old; his bones were short and strong, his hindquarters were perfect, while his muscles were so exquisite that had he been cast in bronze he would have been a joy for ever. He ran in the Chelmsford stakes as a three-year-old, and won, beating his great rival Mountain Knight. Then came the Derby a few weeks later. Everyone who had seen Woorak race recognised the fact that he must be given his head, and that to check him would be fatal. He was a very pronounced favourite, and one of the most experienced trainers said to me: “If you don’t back Woorak don’t bet on the race.” But I remembered that Woorak’s sire had been only a brilliant sprinter in England, so I backed Mountain Knight at six to one simply because his sire, Mountain King, had a Wallace-Carbine heart and could run a mile and a half, and even further, at a brilliant pace. The Derby was run and Woorak put up the effort of his career, but was beaten in the last hundred yards by a very narrow margin. Now we come to the after-history. Five days later Woorak was brought out to run in the Craven Plate, ten furlongs, and he won in record time; some of the field being at the half-distance when he was walking in. From that day onwards Woorak never won at a distance again. These two races dilated his heart, and a mile was the length of his tether. Watching him do his training gallops at Randwick during the winter of 1916, I became convinced that as he had to carry less than weight-for-age in the Epsom that he would be able to run the mile right out. I backed him well and truly, and was rewarded by seeing him win the Epsom by six lengths in a common canter. Now this form so impressed the public that a few days later they simply rushed to back him in the Craven Plate, he having only four opponents. He was at odds-on, and ran in front to the half-distance, then his dilated heart failed suddenly and he was easily beaten by St. Carwyne and Reputation. Let me take another example. Wallace Isinglass was a fine upstanding three-year-old with plenty of bone and plenty of muscle, and had a proper Derby-Wallace-Carbine inherited heart. He ran in the Rosehill Guineas a few weeks before the Derby of 1916, the distance being increased from seven furlongs to a mile and a furlong, and he was made an odds-on favourite. By some means he got into a bad position, and when he entered the straight he seemed to have no chance of beating Cetigne. Then he made a wonderful effort; it was the effort of a horse with a stout heart, and he put every ounce of reserve he had into the final run, and inch by inch he gained on the brilliant, honest Cetigne, and won by a nose! Never was a braver effort ever seen on a racecourse, and I felt that he had to thank his Wallace heart—not to mention what his dam (Glass Queen) may have added—for his victory.