And, like all other great mares, the pedigree of Ella Brown was no accident. She was sired by Prince Pulaski, Jr., and he by old Prince Pulaski, the sire of the old queen, Mattie Hunter, 2:12-3/4. The dam of Ella Brown has only lately been correctly established. She was by Evans’ Joe Bowers, son of Joe Bowers 2:32, son of Traveler. Her second dam was by Tom Hal, sire of Brown Hal, and her third dam was said to be by Brooks, sire of Bonesetter 2:19. Every horseman knows what these mean. Mated with Direct Hal, and hence doubled in strength and greatness, and behold Walter Direct, champion green pacer of the year. This is the pedigree of Edward Geers--this is the pedigree of Walter. Both honest. Geers’ honesty is proverbial. His surname is “Honest Ed Geers, the Silent Man of Tennessee.” Did you ever notice how naturally greatness and silence go together? Let that greatest of all great men, Shakespeare, tell it: Silence oft of pure innocence Persuades when speaking fails. There are many stories told of the honesty of Ed Geers. It must be remembered that in the life he has led, the terrible, bruising, fighting battles of the turf, when fame and fortune often hang on the wire for which hundreds of others are driving as well as he, that he is often sorely and terribly tempted. Men are human at most, and in a fight for money, for fame, for the joy of victory, all combined in one race, all the great stakes of life, is it a wonder that millionaire horsemen have tried to buy him, that rich breeders have tried to bribe him, greedy owners corner him and tricksters and knaves foul him? Think of twenty-five years of this and then coming out without a stain on his name, a breath of suspicion and the pseudonum of Honest Ed Geers--won, too, in the light of the fiercest conflict. Walter is game, so is Geers. In the many years in which the latter has been in the sulky he has met with accidents which, if they failed to break his neck, would have broken the heart of an ordinary man. All horsemen will recall the bad accident he had with Searchlight and the one that sent him to the hospital at Memphis a few years ago, with a broken ankle. But a few weeks ago he was in a bad mix-up at Buffalo, when King Direct’s foot went into the sulky wheel of the contending horse. The Nestor of the turf was unconscious when picked up, but quickly revived and dryly remarked, “Now, don’t make a hurrah of this thing and scare everybody to death for nothing.” That remark is an index of his character. He hates a hurrah. The plumage of the peacock has never become the pit game trimmed for the fight. He is loyal to his friends, modest, quiet, honest, and with reverence for all that is sacred and good. He is one of the large men of his calling.