Speedwell Farms.
Brief Visit To A Celebrated Place - Some Notable Stock - Fast Time And Faster Records.
Perched upon the hill-tops, dipping into vales, following the rippling course of meandering streams; now clamboring <sic> up the mountain, then plunging down declivities; forest and meadow, woodland and lawn; virgin nature, and fructifying glebe, - thus lie Speedwell Farms upon the rugged bosom of Elizabeth township. Beautiful only in the picturesque, romantic only in jutting crags, bold views and diversified landscape, wildness and cultivation go hand in hand, bulwarked by Furnace Hills, with iron hearts and oaken ribs, that stretch away in the distance an endless chain of Nature’s forging.
The road winds around the base of the towering hills, skirting the banks of Hammer creek, that, in the ages gone, was once a river. Leaving the old stone mill, civilization is left behind. No human habitation greets the eye for many a furlong. The well-kept road alone testifies to the presence of man.
Presently a handsome red-sandstone house appears, the roads turn at right angles, crosses a rustic bridge, mounts the hill and into a spacious yard that is almost a plaza. A large, old-fashioned pump and stone trough stand on one side. Splendid barns and other out-buildings nearly make the space an inclosure <sic>. Everything is clean. The very ground is swept clear. Not a straw or a stone offends the eve. To the left rises a massive stone residence, surrounded by a smooth terraced lawn, so embowered in trees as to enjoy the privacy of seclusion. On every side is unimpeachable evidence of taste and thoroughness.
These farms are the estate of Robert W. Coleman, deceased, and comprise 4,600 acres. Of this immense tract but about one-third is under cultivation, and it is divided into four farms, the largest, Speedwell, being in immediate charge of Mr. George Youtz, a man of great executive ability, genial temper and a love of his occupation born of a thorough knowledge.
This farm is mainly devoted to the rearing of horses, and here is stock that has made and will make a record. A visit to the stables is well worth while. Here is an army of men in constant attendance on one hundred and twenty-five horses. The mother’s first babe has no more tender care and solicitous attention. Roomy box stalls, ceiled <sic> inside and out, clean and warm as a nursery; every appliance known to horsemen; a resident blacksmith and veterinary surgeon; an ample force, and managing brains. What more is needed to complete the establishment?
On the very top of a high hill, an elevated plateau, is laid out a half-mile track, where twice a week the fleet trotters are put through the paces. A grand stand for overlooking the course is erected for the accommodation of visitors who every summer flock to enjoy the cool breezes and admire the princes of the turf. Here Purity, a handsome bay mare, standing fifteen hands high, made a record of 2:21. She is now out of training. $12,000 have been refused for this flyer.
On Friday last it was our good fortune to be present when a number of trotters were exercised. Lady Orange scored the mile in 2:36, Middletown Chief in 2:37-3/4; Bog Meadow Girl and Millie Gardiner, team, in 2:53. All these are Hambletonians, and have the same general characteristics: handsome bodies, intelligent heads, kind dispositions and a deep, rich bay color.
To our thinking the “noblest Roman of them all” is Shamrock, a Hambletonian stallion seven years old, sixteen hands high. Long bodied, round, deep chested, magnificent quarters; the whole overlaid with muscles and flesh from which the “blue blood” stands out in a network of swelling veins. An eye that speaks, and a coat of glossy mahogany bay - that is Shamrock. Though out of condition, having been standing during the season, we saw him do the mile in 2:31 1/2. When in training, he gets down to about 2:25
All the horses have much lower records than we give, made on a half-mile track that measures 5298 feet to the mile - an excess of 18 feet, three feet from the poll.
Comparatively few cattle are kept on the place, but one short-horned bull attracted our attention, it now tips the scale at 2,500 pounds. “It is to be fattened” for beef.
We have glanced hastily at a few prominent features of this great stock farm, leaving many untouched, necessarily; for it is futile to attempt to see and learn all in an hour when a day would not suffice. We hope sometime to return when we have more leisure, and when we can worry and bore the efficient manager, Mr. Youtz, to our heart’s content.
~ The Lititz Record, 04-Nov-1881, Page 3, Column 2
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