3o: 



The Derby 



The Bard was the better of the pah' ; for assuredly the 

 sturdy Httle son of Petrarch made a vastly better fight 

 in the Derby than Minting had made in the Two 

 Thousand, notwithstanding that The Bard was not 

 ridden to orders, his jockey, who had been told to ' come 

 along with him,' as he stayed so well, being some 

 distance in the rear as they rounded the Corner. Then 

 the white-ticked chesnut raced up to the mighty bay, 

 and as they galloped to the bottom of the hill seemed 

 fairly to hold him for half a dozen strides, whilst a 

 tumultuous roar resounded over the Downs ; but 

 Ormonde drew away, and the race was over. One of the 

 little vignettes of turf life which remains imprinted on 

 my memory is of General Owen WilHams and The Bard, 

 after the race, in the enclosure in front of the weighing- 

 room, by the side of the Club Stand. The beautiful 

 colt rubbed his nose affectionately against his master, 

 who responded by stroking the creature's soft muzzle. 

 It was a charming picture. As for Ormonde, he was 

 invincible, and as there is no possibility of determining 

 whether he was as good as or better or worse than St. 

 Simon and other giants of an earlier period, enthusiasts 

 must be left to argue according to their prejudices ; and 

 how prejudiced we are, especially those of us who believe 

 that we are peculiarly open-minded and free from any 

 description of bias ! 



Before the race for the Derby of 1887 it was generally 

 set down as ' The Baron's year.' No one, I imagine, 

 supposed that The Baron was a good horse; his per- 

 formances did not bear critical examination, particularly 

 his narrow victory — or escape from defeat — in the Craven 

 Stakes, when a very bad animal nearly ran him out of it. 

 But it was a poor year, and the difficulty was to see what 



