SIXTY YEARS ON THE TURF 



and the man who can retain philosophic calm after 

 losing a Derby by the length of his hand must be a 

 masterpiece of composure. Fordham was no such 

 stranger to sentiment, and the chief fault of that 

 magnificent horseman was his excessive sensibility. 

 It is perhaps too late in the day to attempt to praise 

 him. But no rider, neither of his own nor any other 

 day, excelled him ; and I question if his equal, all 

 round, has been seen. Even the "terrible Archer" 

 acknowledged Fordham's unapproachable artistry, 

 while he had a " holy horror " of his " kidding." 



" You look a trifle put out. Archer," I said one day. 



" Yes. And I feel what I look. And you'd 

 perhaps be put out if you'd been riding against 

 Fordham in that race. He was ' cluck, clucking ' 

 at his mount the whole of the way. I thought I 

 had him beaten two or three times in the two miles. 

 But, with his infernal ' cluck, cluck ' he was always 

 coming again. Still, two hundred yards from home 

 I supposed I had him dead settled. ' I'll cluck, 

 cluck you,' I thought, and at that instant he swoops 

 on me and beats me easily. Yes, I do feel put 

 out." 



However, to the Derby of 1863. I had arranged 

 for Fordham to dine with me at Carshalton, of the 

 party being Mr. George Lambert and Mr. Manning- 

 ton, the noted vet. of the day. Mr. Lambert and 



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