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I .H.S. 






Reminiscences of the Yards, Humorous and Otherwise, Joe Getler and 
His Cats, the Hustling Commission Men, the Widow of the 
Deceased, the Belle of the Stockyards; Beside Valuable 
Hints to Farmers on Breeding, Selling, Shippjng and 
Conditioning, and Veterinary Recipes; and Con- 
cluding with the Man of "Ups and Downs." 




Copyright 1896 by 






Frontispiece 1 

The Union Stockyards 7 

Reminiscences of the Stockyards 33 

Joe Getler and His Cats 41 

"Packingtown" 46 

The Slickest Confidence Game in Chicago 58 

The World's Greatest Horse Market , . 61 

Builders of the Horse Market 77 

Wild Horse Harry and his Horse "Nigger". 92 

America's Popular Auctioneer 100 

Mary the Apple Woman 102 

The High Priced Auctioneer of America 105 

Dan McCarthy and his Goats 108 

Dressing Lamb and Mutton at the Stockyards.. .. 100 

"Bill" 115 

Kosher Killing 118 

Jimmy Norton and his Dog "Harry" 121 

Evolution of Cattle 125 

Human Nature at the Cow Market 128 

Evolution of the Hog 180 

"Old Sandy". 135 

Inspection 137 

Jack-Knife Ben 141 

Disposal of the Steer 146 

The Maltese Cross 152 




Breeding , 154 

Bridle Bill 167 

Horse Dealing 1(59 

Willie the Telegraph Messenger 174 

Buying Horses 177 

Gallagher and Brown 185 

Care and Conditioning of Horses 187 

"The Duke of Somerset" 190 

Selling Horses , . 192 

The Itinerant Barber Shop 196 

The Widow of the Deceased 198 

Sea-Faring on Cattle Boats 214 

Billy the Letter Carrier 217 

Transit House 219 

The Belle of the Stockyards 221 

The Cau-Kush 226 

Commission, Feed Charges, Dockage, etc 228 

One Kind of Stick-to-ativeness 229 

Daily Drovers' Journal 230 

The Pen-Holders 231 

Champion Beef Dresser of the World 233 

Jack, Pety and Paddy 236 

The Stockyards Scribes 240 

Gus the Ham Tester 242 

Manufacture of Butterine 244 

Cattle Ranches and Ranging 248 

Range Horses 266 

In Coach and Saddle 271 

Veterinary Recipes 296 

My Ups and Downs, With Good Advice to Fellow 

Men.. 310 



"You can get quicker action for your money at the Stockyards 
than in any other place on earth.'' A Consignor. 

WAY back in 1848, when the 
population of Chicago was 
less than 50,000, when her 
shipping and commercial in- 
terests were no greater than 
those of many a little western 
city of to-day whose prosper- 
ity is dependent upon the dys- 
peptic caprices of a statesman 
elected on a silver or gold issue, when she existed as the 
country's metropolis only in the imagination of the 
Utopian few, John B. Sherman, now one of the most 
esteemed men in the West, took a step which went one 
half way toward making Chicago the magnificent city 
she is to-day. He felt one of the city's needs, and his 
powerful mind devised the remedy which should turn 
toward Chicago the major portion of the wealth of the 
West. Chicago needed a live stock market,and John B. 
Sherman established the Old Bull's Head Stockyards at 
the corner of Madison Street and Ogden Avenue, and this 



was the initial move toward making Chicago what she 
is at present the greatest live stock market in the 

Previous to the construction of this stockyard, cattle 
and hogs were dumped on the sand hills and sold al- 
so much per head and the price of cattle in those days 
may be estimated when a crippled hog sold for $75. 
As business increased, Sherman's far-seeing mind again 
grasped the situation, and he saw the necessity of get- 


ting nearer the city. The site he selected for the 
new yards was at Cottage Grove Avenue and Thirtieth 
Street, and here he started what was known as the 
Sherman Stockyards. 

At this time there were made several other Ventures 
of the same kind, none of which, however, were success- 
ful. Among those making these ventures were the Fort 
Wayne, Illinois Central and Lake Shore railroads. These 


roads, backed by comparatively unlimited capital and 
spurred on by large self-interests, pitted themselves 
against a single man, with little money at his command, 
and lost. John B. Sherman, however, had the better 
capital of all; he had almost the insight of a seer, the 
perspicacity of a trained speculator and the magnetic 
power over men of a Napoleon. A lesser man might 
have opposed his single strength to the combined force 
of the competitor. Not so John B. Sherman. He made 
his interest the interest of the opposition, he exercised 
his ingenuity to make all their interests mutual, and 
within an incredibly short space of time, in 1865, 
his opponents had become his partners, a partnership 
which, with Sherman always at the helm, has resulted 
in a prosperity beyond which the most sanguine expec- 
tations of the stockyard company or the interested citi- 
zens of Chicago could not aspire. The company in- 
corporated with a capital of $10,000,000, which has 
since been nearly trebled, as the Union Stockyards and 
Transit Company. 

The site of the stockyards had been again changed, 
this time to a quarter of a section of land bound by For- 
tieth and Forty-Seventh Streets on the north and south, 
and by Halsted Street and Center Avenue on the east 
and west. In those early days this yard was far beyond 
the limits of the city, being sufficiently isolated to 
satisfy even Chicagoans that it was at a proper sanitary 
distance. Its site was a reedy swamp, upon the un- 
measured front feet of which no real estate dealer had 
yet cast a covetous eye. Old Nathaniel Hart still re- 
members and talks of the laying of the first plank 



which converted the bog into a teeming mart, and ex- 
changed the croaking of bullfrogs for the grunting of 
swine and the chirping of reed birds for the voices of 
men. Chicago grew, however, and one morning John 
B. Sherman awoke to find his cattle market midway 
between the city hall and the city limits, and his awak- 
ening was disturbed only by the complaints of near-by 
residents against the odors of cattle,and the excoriations 
of sanitary committees. Hard work and bliss is not 


all which attends the progress of the founder of a new 
industry; he must take a share of the world's fault- 
finding also. 

At their first construction the stockyards covered one 
hundred and twenty acres with two thousand cattle 
pens, whereas today, thirty-one years later, three hun- 
dred and fort} 7 acres covered with five thousand pens, 



stables, railroad stations, unloading platforms, a splen- 
did horse pavilion and a magnificent hotel are included 
within the grounds of the stockyards. Taking in "Pack- 
ingtown," which is, indeed, the stockyards proper, the 
area of the yard would be increased to six hundred and 
forty acres and extend to Ashland Avenue, a territory 
large enough to furnish the site for a prosperous city. 
And, indeed, the population of a goodly city is con- 


tained within the boundaries of the yards, the various 
branches of the stock market and packing-house indus- 
try providing occupation for an army of employes, 
men, women and children, to the number of 40,000 a 
population almost as large as that of the whole of Chi- 



cago at the time when John B. Sherman constructed 
the first stockyards over on the West Side This is 
within the yards; outside of the stockyards palings is 
one of the busiest, although by no means one of the 
most aristocratic, portions of Chicago. Rows of dwell- 
ings, hotels, liveries, blacksmitheries, furniture stores, 
groceries, meat markets, and last, but never least, sa- 
loons, cluster thickly on the outskirts of the yards, the 


din of activity from city and yards rising from early 
dawn till far into the night, and uniting in sounds of 
enterprise which are the business man's anthem. 

How few people of the city know that the stockyards 
have done more to make Chicago the metropolis of the 
West and her name a synonym for almost preternatural 
rapidity of growth than any other industry 1 How many 
know that of Chicago's nearly 2,000,000 people one- 
fourth derive support, directly or indirectly, from the 
stockyards? How few have ever realized the amount of 



eastern, western and European capital invested in Chi- 
cago on the strength of the influence of the stockyards 
alone! The food products sent out from the stockyards 
supply nourishment to the entire world. Should this 
great industry be suddenly stopped for a period of six 
months the armies of Europe would be deprived of ani- 
mal food almost to the point of a meat famine; and 
should it be suddenly annihilated there would be a revo- 
lution in the live stock shipping trade. 


During every one of the three hundred and sixty-five 
days in the year, except Sundays, there are here offered 
up in sanguinary sacrifice to the necessities of man 
15,000 hogs, 5,000 cattle, and 5,000 sheep, not consid- 
ering the highest record for one day, which reads: 
Hogs, 42,000; cattle, 10,000; sheep, 12,000. 

All the great railroads of the East, West, North and 
South are centralized here by means of the stockyards 



belt line, and every railroad in Chicago is connected 
with the Union Stockyards system. The tracks owned 
and controlled by the Union Stockyards and Transit 
Company are one hundred and thirty miles in length, 
including main lines', siding and storage tracks, and 
were constructed in every particular to expressly facili- 
tate the company's business. Unloading platforms are 
assigned each railroad and are so constructed that en- 
tire trains can be unloaded at once as quickly as a sin- 


gle car. A passenger station, well equipped and modern 
in all its appointments, practically enables the inhabi- 
tants of this district to step from their doors to ele- 
gant Pullman cars going to every part of the country. 
The stockyards and the Chicago River are connected 
by means of a canal, the frontage of which is lined with 
docks which are increasing in number every year. 


About fifty miles of streets and alleys connect the 
pens with the loading and unloading chutes of the 
railroads, 50,000 cattle, 200,000 hogs, 30,000 sheep and 
5,000 horses being thus easily handled and accommo- 
dated at one time now, whereas to handle from 1,500 to 
3,000 animals forty years ago seemed a herculean task. 
Viaducts, which are in strength if not in beauty fine 
examples of the builder's skill, have been erected, lead- 
ing to all the packing-houses to facilitate the transfer 
of stock from one point to another. A system of un- 
derground drainage has been gradually brought to a 
high state of perfection, the consequent sanitary con- 
dition of the yards insuring the health of the stock; 
and making every one familiar with the stockyards 
skeptical of the justice of Germany's complaints that 
American meat is diseased. An eleotric light plant 
floods the yards at night with a brilliant white light 
which makes it quite as possible to transact business 
at midnight as at high noon. Six artesian wells, aver- 
aging 1,300 feet in depth and aggregating in capacity 
600,000 gallons daily, provide the stock with an abun- 
dance of the very purest of water, its crystal clear- 
ness as it runs into the many drinking fountains being a 
marked contrast to the dull and murky water consumed 
by the human beings of the city. 

The expense of maintaining this colossus among stock 
markets amounts to from $2,000,000 to $3,500,000 an- 
ually, while the cost of establishing it is a mystery of 
uncounted millions. The yards were purchased about 
four years ago by the present company, which in- 
cludes an English syndicate, for $23,000,000. The capi- 
tal is $25,000,000. 



As a live stock market Chicago has no rival and no 
competitor. Chicago sets the values and quotations for 
every other market in existence, and the man who 
ships live stock to Chicago as a rule has it sold at its 
true value and has the proceeds in his pocket at the 
time of day when the buyers and sellers at all the other 
markets in the world are whittling sticks, waiting for 
the wire from Chicago which shall apprise them of 


Chicago's quotations. Here is a sample of the slip of 
yellow paper by means of which Chicago daily sets the 
price of beef, pork and mutton in every country in 
both hemispheres: 



rn Ho. 





SEND the following nie>Me uBJeet to the tetm 
en bck hereof, vhloh,*re hereby greed to. 

&O ^189/ 
//- 6 

No other market on the globe has the facilities to re- 
ceive, care for and handle such vast numbers of stock 
as are received here. The total receipts* of stock for 
1895 were: Cattle, 2,588,558; calves, 168,740; hogs, 
7,885,283; sheep, 3,406,739; horses, 118,193. The total 
shipments during the same period were: Cattle, 785,092; 
calves, 9,882; hogs, 2,100,613; sheep, 474,646; horses, 
109,146. During the past thirty years, from 1865 to 
1895, the total receipts were: Cattle, 49,214,668; calves, 
1,669,422; hogs, 152,779,500; sheep, 30, 080, 121; horses, 
988,813. Tha shipments for the same period were: 
Cattle, 22,160,264; calves, 891,319; hogs, 49,895,872; 
sheep, 8,942,161; horses, 909,503. 

The largest receipts in one year were: 

Cattle (1892), 3,571,793; calves (1898), 210,557; hogs 



(1891), 8, 600, 805; sheep (1895), 3,406,739; horses (1895), 

113,193; cars (1890), 311,557. 

The largest receipts of stock in one month were: 
Cattle, 385,466; calves, 81,398; hogs, 1,111,997; 

sheep, 893,820; horses, 16,791; cars, 81,910. 
The largest receipts of stock in one week were: 
Cattle, 95,524; calves, 8,479; hogs, 300,488; sheep, 

98,163; horses, 4,369; cars, 8,457. 


The largest receipts of stock in one day were: 
Cattle, 82,677; calves, 3,089; hogs, 74,551; sheep, 
31,334; horses, 1,481; cars, 3,864. 

The owners of these great droves of cattle are put to 
no trouble of handling from the moment the stock ar- 
rives at tho yards. From that time until it is sold and 
transferred to the new owner the stockyards employes 
feed, water, yard, handle and in every particular care 



for it. The charge for this service is : Yardage for cattle, 
twenty-five cents per head ; horses, twenty-five cents per 
head; hogs, eight cents per head; sheep, five cents per 
head; calves, fifteen cents per head; feed timothy 
hay, $1.50 per hundredweight; prairie hay, $1.00 per 
hundredweight; corn, $1.00 per bushel. One yardage 
charge covers the entire time the stock remains in the 


yards, whether it be one day or one month. The feed 
used is of the best quality. 

From these sources are derived all the revenues neces- 
sary to cover all the expenses of the stockyards. While 
these revenues may be immense, the expenditures main- 
tain a just proportion thereto, as will be seen when it 



is said that these expenditures include the cost of con- 
struction, feed, bedding, weighing, fuel, gas, electric 
light, lost stock, salaries of 1,500 employes, attorneys' 
fees, taxes, insurance, stationery, salaries of officers, 
cost of maintaining the police and fire departments, 
and interest on bonds and capital invested, all of which 


expenses are incurred strictly for the maintenance of 
the market 

The greatest harmony of feeling prevails among all 
the stock agents of the West and Southwest, all of 
whom make it their interest to induce the shipping of 
live stock to this market, and every legitimate means 
is taken to keep the advantages of the Chicago market 


before the minds of the distant live stock shippers, 
not the least of which is that the lesser pro rata in 
billing here considerably enhances the value of stock. 
There are in daily attendance at the stockyards about 
one hundred foreign buyers from England, Scotland, 
Germany, France, Belgium, and nearly every other 
important country on the globe. In addition to these 


there are buyers from the East and also from the large 
packing-houses of the yards, the latter selecting the 
cattle which again appear in public as corned beef, 
minced tongue, deviled ham, and the like. 

The presence of all these buyers from Europe, from 
the East, from the packing-houses and from the 
large feeding farms insures a quick disposition of all 
stock. As a consignor remarked the other day, "You can 


get quicker action at the stockyards for your money than 
in any other place on earth." This fact, coupled 
with the equally important one that this is a strictly 
cash market, renders the Union Stockyards the most 
desirable as wall as the model market of the world. 
From an artist's point of view, it does even more than 
that, for the presence of these buyers, so diversified in 


habit, language, manner and appearance, lends the in- 
terest of variety to a scene which is already picturesquely 
interesting. In fact, while there is nothing beautiful 
about the yards, they are one of the best places in the 
world to study human nature. 



There are also in daily evidence at the yards as many 
as two hundred cattle and horse commission 'men. 
What they add to the life of the place may be imag- 
ined when it is said that they have among them about 
3,500 employes salesmen, stenographers, typewritists, 
book-keepers, accountants, messengers, etc. This body 
of men is best described by the term unique; they are 


an aggregation apart, one which embodies the quintes- 
sence of business success push a fraternity of ener- 
getic spirits of which any city might be proud, and 
which is a credit to any country. They are hustlers 
from the drop of the hat, at six o'clock in the morning 
"off to Guttenberg," and seven at the latest finds them 
abroad, not indeed seeking whom they may devour, for 
they are a straight set, but out for business, fresh and 
festive as the day itself, ready to give and take in hon- 
orable interchange. 


From early morning until four in the afternoon the 
combined braina of the commission men are at their 
highest tension, and he who runs may see the play of 
just such metal as lias made this city a metropolis and 
this country a great nation. Untold millions are 
handled by these men in the course of a year, and every 
dollar disposed with such honor, exactness, punctuality, 


and dispatch as would be hard to match, and which 
might with advantage replace the slower methods of 
much downtown business. A more honorable, industri- 
ous, conscientious, upright and big-hearted lot of men 
is not gathered together elsewhere in any one place 
on earth. A failure has never been known among them, 
although they take great chances in making advances. 



Many of these commission merchants are at home in 
some of the handsomest residences of Chicago, the 
stone fronts which face the incoming steamers of the 
Great Lakes. Nevertheless they are to be found at their 
places of business day in and day out, ''hustling" with 
as much earnestness as their salesmen to advance the 
interests of their consignors. Their consignors are the 


farmers, breeders and stock raisers throughout the 
country, and it is but fair to these unimpeachable and 
enterprising brokers to say that they have the un- 
bounded confidence of their out-of-town constituency. 
The brokers may be seen at all hours of the day and 
in all kinds of weather on foot or in the saddle, as the 
occasion demands, attending to affairs and transacting 
an enormous business. They are a living application 
of that law of God, expressed in a nutshell in the vul- 
gar saying, "The early bird catches the worm," and 



which, elucidated for the benefit of finer intellects, 
simply means the survival of the fittest. 

There is no scandal or gossip in these men's air; they 
are too busy for pettiness, and business and genuine 
high-mindedness combine to hold them superior to 
vulgarity. Their words go between each other for thou- 
sands of dollars, and a sale running into four, five and 


six figures takes place on the shake of hands They are 
a band of brothers whose pocketbooks are ever open to 
the deserving needy, and the cause of worthy charity 
wins from them a willing ear. Not long ago $580 was 
subscribed by them within two or three hours for an 
unfortunate man who had met with an accident, and 
such ready generosity is no uncommon incident. 
These are men who can not be judged by their clothes, 



for with them finery is a secondary consideration to 
utility, but a brighter, brainier, jollier, more hail-fel- 
low-well-met or more truly gentlemanly lot of men 
cannot be found in a Jong day's search. One ad- 
ditional fact greatly to their credit is their punctil- 


iousness in keeping their promises, engagements and 
appointments to the very letter and minute. Indeed, 
it would be no had move if the South Water Street 
commission contingent should be removed to the yards 


for lessons in integrity, as thare have been rumors of 
"doing and come" in the business atmosphere there pre- 
vailing. There is plenty of room on Halsted Street 
from Forty-second to Forty-seventh Street, and the 
increased facility of access to the fruit and vegetable 
markets for a greater number of people would make 
the new location the great central market for these 
supplies. In short, the live stock commissioners, who 
have done much to make the stockyards the unique spot 
that it is a teeming center of honorable business ac- 
tivity should have warm places in the esteem of all 
their fellow townsmen 

An association formed by these hustling commission 
men, the twelve horse commission menexcepted, is the 
National Live Stock Exchange. The object of the Ex- 
change is the promotion and development of the live 
stock industry in all its branches, and the protection 
of the interests involved It is in every sense a volun- 
tary association, and was organized in 1885 by that 
popular and sagacious gentleman, C. W. Baker. 
Branches of the Exchange have been established in St. 
Louis, Kansas City, Fort Worth, Sioux City and 
Omaha Chicago, of course, being the headquarters. 

The officers are: 

President, W. H. Thompson, Jr., Chicago; Vice-pres- 
idents, J. G. Martin, South Omaha; J. H. Nason, 
Sioux City; Don McN. Palmer, St. Louis; W. B. 
Stickney, East St. Louis; John N. Payne, Kansas 
City; W. E. Skinner, Fort Worth; Secretary, Charles 
W. Baker, Chicago; Treasurer, Levi B. Doud, Chicago; 
Executive Committee, C. A.Mallory, Irus Coy, Chicago; 



J. A. Hake, D. L. Campbell, South Omaha; H. I). 
Pierce, W. M. Ward, Sioux City; W. H. Mines, Charles 
James, St. Louis; E. B. Overstreet, C. M. Keyes, East 
St. Louis; C. G. Bridgeford, J. C McCoy, Kansas 
City; G W. Simpson, C. W. Simpson, Fort Worth. 

In the center of the Union Stockyards is situated the 
PJxchange Building, where are the handsome quarters 
of the officers of the company. Every day in the week 


there may be seen in these quarters at least a few of the 
officers, but should a visitor be fortunate enough to see 
the entire personnel of the executive staff together he 
will see the representatives of the best brain, energy 
and enterprise in Chicago and in the West. The officers 
are: N. Thayer, President; John B. Sherman, Vice- 
President, and General Manager; E. J. Martyn, Second 


Vice- President; J. C. Denison, Secretary and Treasurer; 
Walter Doughty, Assistant Secretary and Treasurer; 
James H. Ashby, General Superintendent; D. G. 
Gray, Assistant Superintendent; Richard Fitzgerald, 
Superintendent of Transit Department. Among these 
men J. C. Denison stands prominent as an indefati- 
gable worker in behalf of the Union Stockyards. He is 
one of those rare men who combine splendid executive 
ability with never varying kindness and courtesy, the two 
last qualities tending to make him as popular socially 
as the former makes him highly esteemed in business 
circles. The Stockyards Company is to be congratulated 
on having associated with it a man of Mr. Denison's 
uncommon gifts. 

In the Exchange Building are also located the offices 
of the two hundred commission firms, the telegraph 
office, the telephone station, which connects the yards 
with every part of the city and with all the neighbor- 
ing towns, and a restaurant where hundreds of stock- 
men are fed daily. 


THE man who has grown 
old with the stockyards every 
old stone and wall is eloquent 
with stories of the past, sto- 
ries pathetic, fanny, sublime, 
and every streak of new paint 
and shining new rail is bright 
with promise of future great- 
ness. To corner such a man 
and unlock his memory with a question or two for a key 
is to hear much of the unwritten history of the yards. He 
has reminiscences for you by the yard, anecdotes of 
millionaires when they were not millionaires by the 
ream, and jokes on great stockmen known to both con- 
tinents by the volume reams and volumes of copy 
which have never been written, however. 

Wilts Keenan, one of the old-time commissioners, 
tells many stories of "auld lang syne" at the yards. 
" In looking around the great Union Stockyards of to- 
day, " he said recently, "I still see faces which are 
familiar to me, faces of men whom I knew thirty years 
ago at the old Sherman or Lake Shore Stockyards, as it 
was called, when 1,500 cattle and 3, 000 hogs were heavy 
receipts for a day, while 83,000 cattle, 75,000 hogs, 
40,000 sheep, and 1,400 horses in one day now don't 
seem to stop the current of trade. I see John B. Sher- 



man of forty years ago still at the head of the greatest 
stockyards in the world. He still keeps up the old way 
of doing business energetic, reliable, self-reliant, 
sociable, accommodating, a good friend to the farmer 
and feeder, combining all the qualities of the eminent 
self-made man that he is. He has been prosperous in 
love, I see, as well as in trade, for he was recently mar- 
ried, and it is safe to say that he will live many years 

"Then we have George T. Williams, now resigned, 
who thirty odd years ago was clerk at the old Sherman 
yards. He has been prosperous, too, and while not 
enjoying the best of health, bids fair to yet stand the 
storms of many winters. Another familiar face never 
to be forgotten by old-timers is Steven Roath, familiarly 
known as' Stevey.' Who does not recollect Stevey when 
he was agent for the Michigan Central? Many a cold 
night has Stevey staid up to let in the boys from their 
rambles, all for the fun of the thing. Steven Roath is 
now a millionaire, and might be a man of leisure, but 
he has the true spirit of a jack-of-all-trades and still 
potters around the yards to be near his old associates. 
Although read}' and willing if asked, he still lingers 
along in single blessedness. 

Of the old cattle and hog buyers of thirty years ago at 
the Sherman Yards but few are left, although I still see 
some old-timers, a few of whom are millionaires. They 
are still active and full of business as ever.going through 
their daily routine, chatting with the new generation of 
shippers that swarm round the great market. There is 
Morris, or "Little Nels" we used to call him in the davs 


when he bought crippled cattle and hogs at the Sherman 
yards. Nelson Morris is to-day one of the 'big four, ' 
a self-made man in every sense of the term, and one 
who deserves the millions he has worked hard for. 
'Little Nels' was always big hearted and Nelson Mor- 
ris is no less so, being one o'f the best philanthropists 
of Chicago. And that same generosity, by the way, 


has given us a good deal of fun at his expense. Morris 
once wanted to help a customer with the loan of a 
horse, and gave him an order to his stable foreman, 
which read, 'Please give bearer a horse.' Just for the 
fun of it the foreman gave the man Morris' best driving 
horse, and within half an hour the horse was learned to 
have been sold, and the customer had disappeared with 


the proceeds. We remind Morris of that once in a 
while. No man has ever been so much up to the cattle 
trade of the country as Nelson Morris. He is one of 
the few millionaires of the trade. Among the industries 
of which he is the founder is a large canning establish- 
ment, besides which he ships beef in the carcass to every 
port on the seaboard. I hope he wiU live long to enjoy 
the prosperity he has accumulated by his own industry. 

"Samuel W. Allerton, or Sammy,as he was familiarly 
known, is another of the old boys. He has left the cat- 
tle business, however, for railroading, banking and the 
Board of Trade. He was a feeder in the old days, being 
largely interested in range cattle, and so when we didn't 
call him Sammy it was 'Farmer Allerton.' Still an- 
other old-timer is John Brennock, who has had the con- 
tract for the dead cattle for many years. A standing 
joke we have on him is that he used to mark his 
dead hogs with a hole in the ear, and after he had 
punched the hole some of the boys would come along 
and cut off the hog's ear, and th-ni watch John try to 
identify his hogs. That made John mad as a hornet. 

"One of the most comical characters we ever had in 
the yards was Uncle Billy Moore, who died some time 
ago, who was also one of the most courteous of men. 
Some of Billy's capers are still remembered as jokes in 
the yards One of the best remembered of these is how 
he 'did' an old fellow who came to the yards with some 
cattle to be killed. Two or three of the boys offered to 
do it for $2.00. Uncle Billy, who had been on the old 
fellow's trail, skipped up and said, 'Au, mon, I'll nae 
charge ye mooch; I'll do it for the hide and fat,' and 



he got the job. Another time a man came in with 
a drove of cattle, for which Billy offered him $5. 'I 
can't do it,.' answered the man, 'I paid that much 
at home for them. ' 'Well,' said Billy, 'I don't want 
you to lose money on them; I'll make it $5.05.' Among 
the smoothest of Uncle Billy's bargains was one with a 
Missourian, who was at the yards one day and talked 


considerably of some steers he owned. 'Well,' said 
Billy, after listening with interest, 'you go home and 
give those steers all they can eat, get them in good con- 
dition and ship them on hereto Keenan, and if they're 
worth the money I'll buy them.' However, the story 
I always like best about Uncle Billy is one which illus- 
trates his oourtesy as well as his wit. He was walking 



through a drove of hogs one morning when a black sow 
ran between his legs and knocked him over. Billy got 
up, brushing himself as he straightened up, and taking 
off his hat he humbly apologized to the sow. 

"But we had something beside jokes at the yards once 
in a while. Sometimes we would have some genuine 
sport, particularly on Saturday afternoons, when the 


boys would get up bull -fights. A pen would be used for 
a ring and the best bulls in the yards would be turned 
into this arena, the boys standing around and betting 
their thousands on the combats. Talk about betting 
on the derby 1 It wasn't in it with betting on impromptu 
bullfights I" and Wilts Keenan rubbed his hands to- 
gether in gleeful appreciation at the recollection of 


staking "thousands" on a bull which gored to death 
an imaginary toreador. 

A history of the Union Stockyards would not be com- 
plete without a mention of the rules which govern daily 
conduct in the different offices at the yards. They 
were formulated to meet the idiosyncrasies of everyday 
conduct, and, therefore, it must not be imagined that 
they are the effort of a wit or satirist. Here they are: 


1. Gentlemen upon entering will forget to scrape 
the mud off their boots; also leave the door wide open, 
or apologize. 

2. Those having no business should remain all day, 
bring their lunch along, take a chair and lean it against 
the wall, as it will preserve it and may prevent it from 
falling on us. 

3. Gentlemen are requested to smoke, especially 
during office hours; tobacco and cigars will be supplied 

4. Talk loud and whistle, particularly when we are 
engaged; if this has not the desired effect, sing a comic 

5. If we are in business conversation with any one, 
you are not to wait until we are done, but chip in a 
bit, as we are particularly fond of talking to half a 
dozen or more at a time. 

6 Profane language is expected at all times, espe- 
cially if lady customers are present. 

7. Put your feet on the tables, but don't forget to 
pull off your boots, or lean against the desk; it will be 
a great assistance to those who are waiting. 


8. Persons having no business at this office will call 
often, or excuse themselves. 

9. Should you need the loan of any money, do not 
hesitate to ask for it, as we do not require it for busi- 
ness purposes, but merely for the sake of loaning. 

10. Our hours for listening to solicitors for benevo- 
lent purposes are from 11 A. M to 1 P. M. ; book 
agents, 1 to 3 P. M. ; beggars and peddlers all day. 


The latest funny story to go the rounds at the yards 
is this: 

A man named McGee was killed in a packing-house 
last year, and a comrade was sent to his house to break 
the news to the widow, and let her down easy. Approach 
ing the house, he espied her at the window. "Are you 
the widow McGee?" he asked. "No, I am not," said 
she; "I am Mrs. M .1. McGee." "You're a liar, you're 
not," was the retort; "McGee's corpse ia just coming 
around the corner!" 


A PERSONAGE of great importance at the stockyards, 
and without an account of whom no history of the 
place would be complete, is Smut, the enormous tor- 


toise-shell cat, dear to the heart of Joe Getler, the 
good-looking bachelor who looks after the interests of 

the Wabash Railway at the shipping pens. 




Joe is "great" on cats and has invested heavily in the 
breeding business, and says, in his good-natured way, 
"Yes, there's money in cats." Smut is an immense 
creature, of great dignity of presence and haughty de- 
meanor, as becomes a prime favorite and the forebear 


of a long line of honorable descendants. She is a regular 
breeder, presenting her owner with a new family about 
every three months, having seldom leas than nine kit* 


tens to the Jitter. All of her progeny are taken with 
alacrity by Joe's friends among the commission men, 
being often promised and sold before they are born. Her 
sons and daughters are distributed all over Englevvood, 
to the number of 100, it is estimated, and their fame 
has gone abroad in the land. The cherished felines are 
known as "Getler's cats," and are supposed to inherit 
their mother's shrewdness and skill in the hunt. 

Smut is a terror to rats and likes nothing better than 
a still hunt after game. She is by no means of the 
"new" order of females and attends carefully to her 
domestic duties, but when not imperatively engaged 
in these she can be seen at most hours of the day and 
night in a death-chase after her foes. She has made her 
home in the tagging shanty for the past three years, 
and has cleared a circle of rats all about her for a radius 
of one-fourth of a mile. She not uncommonly ventures 
up in the packing-houses, a half-mile or so away, after 
her prey. Another pet taste of hers is an epicurean love 
for sparrows, and in pursuit of these dainty morsels 
Smut has developed some strange traits, for a cat. 
When her master starts off in his spare moments with 
his gun to shoot sparrows for his favorite, Smut trots 
along behind him as alert as a trained hunter, and 
when the birds fall after the crack of the rifle, Smut 
will retrieve them with an attention to the business 
in hand worthy of the most carefully practiced retriev- 
ing dog. 

Joe met with a great sorrow in the sad loss of "Nig," 
another feline pet, about twelve months ago, and in 
honor to Nig's memory has established a cemetery with 



a conventional mound in the center, and a headstone 
in Nig's commemoration with the appropriate inscrip- 
tion of "Nig: Requiescc^ in Pace." Joe sees to it 
most carefully that this "grave is kept green," and in 
summer it is watered faithfully and decked with flowers. 


There goes a story at Joe's expense, though no one 
will actually swear to its truth, that one night soon 
after the advent of one of Smut's numerous families 
Joe was disturbed by a most prodigious caterwauling, 
whioh he terms a Thomas concert, in front of his sleep- 


ing-quarters, and going out to look into the matter he 
saw four great cats of the male persuasion squatted in 
a sort of square, and howling for dear life. Joe had 
been reading in the early evening an account of the 
customs of the Fiji or some other islands where each 
woman has several husbands, and questions of descent 
are settled among the several benedicts by electing 
one of them to stand in the place of father to the off- 
spring. This must have come into Joe's mind, for after 
driving away the vociferous felines he was overheard 
by a passer-by to say, with a chuckling laugh, "Well, 
them darned cats must have met to elect a father 1" 


CUDAHY, the big packer, was around inspecting his 
plant one day. In one of his big buildings he detected 
the unmistakable "perfume 1 ' of an old clay pipe's triple 
extract, and, looking around, discovered a "terrier" 
perched high up on a pile of barrels, calmly smoking 
in violation of the big placards forbidding smoking on 
these premises. 

"What are you doing there?" demanded Cudahy. 

"Takin' a shmoak, " was the undisturbed reply. 

"Do you know who I am?" 

"That I doan't " 

"I am the superintendent and proprietor of these 

"Shure now, it's a good place ye have. I'd advise 
ye to kape it." 



ADJOINING the stockyards is that novel sput known 
as "Packingtown," which contains the fifteen colossal 
packing-houses which owe their existence to the prox- 
imity of the yards. These packing-houses are the prop- 
ery of P. D. Armour & Co., Swift & Co., Nelson Morris 
& Co., Lib by, McNeill & Libby, International & Wells 
Packing Co., Continental Packing Co., Anglo-American 
Provision Co., Cudahy Packing Co., Thomas J. Lipton 
Co., Chicago Packing & Provision Co., Roberts & Oake, 
Michener Bros. & Co., North Packing & Provision Co., 
Henry J. Seiter, and Silberborn Co. In these packing- 
houses much of the live stock from the yards is trans- 
formed from lowing cattle, bleating sheep and grunting 
swine into neatly-canned dried beef, luncheon meat, 
potted tongue, minced collops, breakfast bacon, deviled 
ham, "condensed" soup, and the thousand and one 
other delicacies undreamed of by our grandmothers, 




but which are revolutionizing domestic economy as 
surely as electricity is working a revolution in mechan- 
ics. These food products are shipped to every country 
on the globe. 

Some idea may be gained of the immensity of the 
packing-house industry when it is said that the packing- 
houses cover an area of three hundred acres. They are 


fitted up with every modern appliance with which to 
facilitate their work, and are conducted with such abso- 
lute neatness that the most fastidious would not hesi- 
tate to enjoy their food products. The cold storage 
rooms belonging to the different firms cover many acres 
of ground, and have a combined capacity of many thou- 
sand tons, one freezer alone holding 10,000,000 pounds. 


The sales of only one of these firms amount to more 
than $65,000,000 annually. 

Not very many years ago Cincinnati was the loca- 
tion of the great packing-houses, the city being then 
called Hogapolis, and later Porkapolis, in humorous rec- 
ognition of the tremendous quantity of hogs, dressed and 
undressed, shipped to and from the city. Cincinnati, 
however, never held the position which Chicago does 
as a site of packing-houses, for contemporaneously with 
Cincinnati's glory in that respect St. Louis, Omaha, 
Kansas City and Louisville had large packing-houses 
of their own, whereas Chicago capital now owns and 
controls every packing-house of any size in the country. 

Connected with the packing-houses are the slaughter- 
houses, places which daily present scenes which would 
almost convince the most callous that killing animals 
for food is, after all, little short of cannibalism, al- 
though the methods are as humane as methods of 
slaughter can well be. 

The rules regulating the killing of cattle are hard 
and fast and strictly enforced. First of all, the cattle 
must be fed and watered before being weighed. With- 
out the preliminary step of weighing they cannot be 
sold. The animals must not be killed until twenty-four 
hours after leaving the ranch, should they reach the 
stockyards within that period; and should there be 
good reasons for delay, they may be held for several 
days, or even weeks, before being slaughtered. 

Following the weighing, the cattle are carefully in- 
spected by government officials, on the way from the 
scales to the slaughter pen, the diseased being separat- 



ed from the healthy cattle. From this point on the 
cattle are treated as individuals. They are no longer 
a herd, each steer becoming a "beef" and thereafter go- 
ing entirely on his merits as steak and roast. The first 


step in the individualizing process is to drive the steers 
for slaughter into the slaughter pen a narrow, sepa- 
rate pen, only large enough for two animals at a time. 
A man stands on a board walk above, and with a well 
directed blow with a heavy sledge, stuns him. A door 
is raised as the steer falls, causing him to slide out 


upon the floor of the slaughter-house. A chain is now 
fastened to his hind legs and he is hoisted from the 
floor, his forelegs spread wide apart, and a sharp knife 
thrust into his throat by a man who does no other part 
of the work than this. As the knife strikes the throat 
the blood wells out in a torrent. This ocean of blood 
is washed down into a gutter leading to a tank, from 
which it is pumped into covered carts and conveyed to 
the fertilizer factory. 

The head of the steer is now removed. He is then 
lowered to the floor and laid upon his back, sticks set 
in the floor propping him up. The legs are now broken, 
the stomach opened and the hide skinned from the 
edges cf the opening. A hook is then stuck behind each 
of the joints of the hind legs, and the steer hoisted up 
to a position convenient for the butchers, whose subject 
he now is. The tail is cut off, the intestines removed 
and the hide pulled a little farther off. This done, the 
animal is hoisted from the floor. Above are two tracks 
on which are wheels with hooks hanging from them. 
These hooks are substituted for those previously put 
behind the joints of the hind legs, leaving the steer con- 
veniently hanging from the wheels. The hide is now 
completely removed by two men pulling it and a third 
beating it and separating it from the flesh with a 
cleaver. When removed the hide is inspected and, if 
found intact, is sent to a cellar to be salted and folded 
and made ready for sale. 

At once the hide is removed from the steer the car- 
cass is halved lengthwise by means of a huge cleaver, the 
ragged edges being then trimmed by several men, who 


also wasn ana dry the moat very carefully. Number- 
ing, tagging, weighing and hanging in the cooler now 
follow rapitiiy, the carcass being rolled rapidly along 
the tracks irom man to man until the task is done. 
From five to eight minutes have elapsed from the time 
the steer was knocked on the head until placed in the 
cooler, during which time he has passed through the 


hands of forty-two men. He is followed in such quick 
succession by other steers that the men have not even 
time to crack a joke, resembling automatic machines in 
the rapidity and regularity of their movements. Sev- 
eral thousand cattle are killed and dressed during the 
ten working hours of the day. 



In spite of this rapidity, every part of the process i* 
attended with the utmost cleanliness. First, every pre- 
caution is taken to remove from the arteries all the 
blood, as blood left among the muscular tissues hastens 
decomposition. The men who handle the meat must 
wash their hands frequently at the hose near by, and 
a drop of blood on the hands must be removed instant- 
ly. In fact, no speck of dirt reaches the meat, and the 


carcass never touches the floor after the hide is re- 

A word about the cattle. The cattle shipped to 
the stockyards may be divided into two classes, native 
cattle and range cattle. Native cattle come from the 
farms of the middle western states, while range cattle 
are from the ranches and plains of Texas, Colorado, 
Wyoming and Montana. The former constitute three- 
fourths of all the cattle received at the yards, and make 
the fine beef which is exported to Europe, whereas 
range cattle make very indifferent beef. 


Killing sheep is fully as interesting a process, though 
less humane, than killing steers. The sheep, like the 
steers, are fed, watered and weighed before being sold. 
Those sold to the packing-houses are then driven 
through viaducts to the slaughter-house. In a pen at 
the end of the viaduct are two sheep, each with a bell 
on its neck. These sheep are the leaders, and advantage 
is taken of the well-known peculiarity of sheep in fol- 
lowing in a flock where one leads. The leaders have 
been trained to lead the flock to the slaughter pen, 
from which they slip away and return to their own pen, 
leaving the flock to the mercies of the butcher. This 
is a much quicker method than driving them. 

Now comes a scene at sight of which many people 
faint a veritable slaughter of innocents. A shackle is 
slipped over the hind legs of two sheep at a time and 
they are hoisted up, by means of a chain, to a boy who 
sees that the shackles are attached to wheels which run 
on tracks overhead. The sticker is at hand and plunges 
a sharp knife into their throats, almost severing the 
heads, and the poor beasts are then sent to boys who rip 
the hide up the legs; the legs are then broken and a 
hook placed behind the joints of the forelegs. From 
here they are sent to a succession of men who each re- 
move a part of the hide, until the carcass is completely 
skinned. The head and intestines are now removed, and 
the carcasses, after being washed and dried, are sent on 
to the dressers, whose work is described in detail else- 
where in this book. 

Killing hogs is also among the sights of the slaugh- 
ter-house. It is no more humane in method than kill- 



ing sheep, but so prejudiced is man against the poor hog 
that there arr few people who cannot see him slaugh- 
tered without blanching. Through the mile-long via- 
ducts the drove of hogsjis driven to the shackling pen. 
Here a boy goes in among them and slips a shackle 
over the hind leg of a hog, a hook suspended from a 
chain is slipped into a ring on the shackle, and the 


squealing hog hoisted by machinery to a man who 
places him upon a greased rail which inclines down- 
ward. The hook and chain are loosed and thrown back 
to the boy in the pen, who sends up another hog. 
Meanwhile the unfortunate pig has reached the sticker, 
who ends his vociferous squeals with a thrust from a 
sharp double-edged knife. Down the greased rail he 



goes again, after an enforced pause to allow the blood 
to drain out. He now reaches a boy who slips a hook 
into the shackle, and then lets the hog slide off the 
end of the rail. The hard jerk caused by the drop 
of the hog draws the shackle off his leg, and he drops 


into a tub of hot water. He is kept rolling in this 
Turkish bath by men with long poles, until he reaches 
the other end of the tub, when, by means of machinery, 
he is thrown out upon a table. Here the hair is removed 
from the ears, after which he is fastened to a "scrap- 
er," which scrapes off nearly all the bristles, what re- 



mains being taken off by hand. This done, he is put 
upon another rail and pushed along to the "wash box," 
where he gets a severe spray bath in water spouting 
with much force from iron pipes set on either side of 
the rail along which he is being pushed. He now reaches 
the "barbers," who shave him thoroughly, and no 
gentleman ever looked fresher or whiter than he does 
when his shave is finished. 


The next step is to take out the intestines, which is 
done in a trice by a man. When this is done a heavy 
stream of water is turned on him, inside and out, after 
which the inside is wiped out with clean cloths and the 
outside scraped oft* with knives. The lard is now pulled 
out by two men, and the hog weighed and sent to the 
cooler just three minutes after his throat was stuck. 


PHIL was the name of the strawberry -roan steer which 
until recently was used at Armour's packing-house to de- 
coy his unsuspecting country cousins to their tragic fate. 
This bovine Judas had very amiable ways, a winning 
disposition, with a benevolent smile, large soulful e\ T es 
whose benign expression never failed to delude his vic- 
tims into almost touching reliance upon his honest in- 
tentions. Alas! that so much guile should lurk behind 
so amiable a mask! for Phil was the slickest confidence 
game in Chicago. He was well groomed and cared for; 
he was blanketed to protect him from cold in winter 
and from the flies in summer, and enjoyed the confidence 
of his superiors. He had held his position for a num- 
ber of years, and retained it until his arts lost their 
cunning through age and natural decline. He amused 
himself through the day in making visits to the pens 
of the cattle waiting their turn at the block. As soon 
as the drover came to drive a herd up to the slaughter 
pen Phil was notified, and as the gates were opened he 
took his place at the head of the procession to lead 
them through the intricate passageways to their doom. 
If any of the drove attempted to fly the track or pass 
him, he butted them back with great decision, and let 
them know he was master of the herd. As he marched 




along to the peris at the head of the deluded travelers 
going to their last home, the close observer might have 
perceived a knowing twinkle in his eye, as one who had 
the laugh all on his side. Previous to this, while 
standing outside the pens and scraping acquaintance 
with the inmates, he had looked as demure as a preach- 
er. The drove followed confidingly along behind the 


rascal without a suspicion of his perfidy. When he got 
to the top of the run that leads into the fatal pen his 
attention was immediately attracted elsewhere and he 
wheeled to the right like a SeventI Infantry soldier- 
Here he would find some pretense to stop, either to 
scratch his ear, or pick a thorn from his hoof, or view 
some point of interest in the landscape, so that the 
fresh ducks, relieved of their leader and thinking they 
knew the way, passed on to the valley of death. Down 
would come the gate, and Master Phil, winking his 


guileful eye and giving a last look at his victims, would 
make his way down along the pens, seeking acquaintance 
with fresh dupes. Oh, he knew his business! and was 
one of the hardest, toughest characters in the stock- 

Phil was rather a favorite amongst the employes, 
and had been at this bunko game for about five years. 
But aha! one day last fall Phil found himself on the 
other side of the gate. What a surprise that was to 
him! He had grown lazy with age, and was much more 
inclined to stay in his own snug pen than to decoy 
others to the pen of death, or maybe a tardy conscience 
had been developed in him. However that may be, 
Phil had lost his usefulness, and so one day he him- 
self was the victim of a plot. When he got to the top 
of the pen he found his usual wheeling place boarded 
off, and the pen made so narrow for the occasion that 
he could not wheel. Neither could he turn back. Then 
Phil demonstrated that weakness of logic which is the 
cause of every rascal's downfall sooner or later. He 
reasoned that if the pen had been made narrow it must 
have been done for some purpose; probably the gate had 
been moved farther up, and he would, no doubt, find a 
turning off place in due time. So he went unsuspecting- 
ly on, when, oh perfidy of man! down came the gate, 
and down also came the sledge of the man above! 
"There is after all no honor among thieves!" groaned 
Phil as he fell beneath the blow. 


CHICAGO'S horse market has become such an impor- 
tant feature of the Union Stockyards that today there 
are bought and sold in this city more horses than at 


any other market in the world. The average daily sale 
of horses at these stockyards is 300, including private 
sales and public auctions. The business is increasing 



A national horse auction sale has been organized. 
The national scheme seems to be a spontaneous move- 
ment among horse commission men of the United States, 
as nearly every firm of prominence is represented. The 
object of the association is to protect, promote, and 
morally elevate the horse sale industry of America; the 
real aim being to crowd out of the business all trick- 
sters, all dishonorable and irresponsible dealers, and 
elevate the profession to the highest standard of a legit- 
imate industry. Rules of sales will secure uniformity 
in. all the horse auctions of America, and are designed 
to protect the buyer and the seller. This organization 
embr.afees vast interests and represents transactions 
of many millions of dollars. 

There are engaged in this business at the Union Stock- 
yards some twenty firms, who are responsible for all 
transactions emanating from their respective stables. 
These commission men in turn each give a bond of 
$20,000 to the stockyards company in token of good 
faith to the consignors. Commodious, well ventilated 
stabling for 4,000 horses is provided, and there has re- 
cently been erected a pavilion at an outlay of many 
thousands of dollars for holding special livestock sales. 

Auction sales take place every day, Sundays excepted. 
In attendance at these sales are buyers from all parts 
of America, Johnny Bulls from England and Canada, 
canny Scots from Scotland, jovial Irishmen looking for 
the "makings" of timber-toppers, Frenchmen and de- 
scendants of old Spain who come to replenish the mar- 
kets of Mexico and Cuba with American horses. 

The respective commission firms employ auctioneers 


at salaries of from $8,000 to $6,000 annually, who sell 
twice each week, These men have stentorian voices 
and lungs like oxen, and are human mechanical talking 
machines. They earn their money, for the life of a man 
in this business is short A great deal of responsibility 
rests with them. They know every buyer in front of 
the rostrum, and acknowledge as bids all kinds of pri- 


vate signs, nods and winks. They can tell at a glance 
the merits or demerits of the lot they are selling, using 
great judgment to please both the buyer and seller, 
which they do with marked success, as seldom a com- 
plaint is heard. Sixty horses an hour is the general 
average Sometimes seventy-five are sold in that 
time; 740 horses is the best record for one day's sale. 
All classes of horses are sold. One minute a Clydes- 
dale weighing 1800 pounds, then perhaps a dimin- 
utive pony or some well-known race horse. 



The ring (or "bull pen") is never, during the sales, 
without a lot of horses in front of the auctioneer. Im- 
mediately after a sale the animal is sent back to the 
stables, and men engaged for that purpose give it a trial 
before the buyer, and it is left to his option if he ac- 
cepts or rejects the purchase. 

Horses must be as represented, and are sold under 


the five following conditions, according to the guaran- 
tee of the consignor: 

1. To be sound. 2 Serviceably sound. 8. Wind 
and work. 4. Worker only. 5. Halter. 

A horse sold under the hammer can be rejected by 
noon the day following the day of sale if it does not 
comply with the warranty. 

A horse sold for sound must be perfectly sound in 
every way. A horse sold as serviceably sound must be 
virtually a sound horse; its wind and eyes must be good, 



it must not be lame or sore in any way and must be 
sound, barring slight blemishes, and the blemishes 
must not constitute any unsoundness, and nothing 
more than splints, slight puffs, and a little rounding on 
the curb joints, and must not have a brand It may be 
a little cut out in the knees, but must not stand over on 
the knees or ankles; it may have a little puff on the 
outside of the hock, but must not have a thorough-pin 


or boggy hocks. Ringbone is barred, although it may 
naturally be a little coarse jointed. The front part of 
hocks inside must not be puffed. It may have slight 
scars or wire marks, but these must not be such as to 
cause any deformity of the body, legs, or feet, and 
nothing more than a slight scar. It must not have any 
scars from fistula or poll-evil. It cannot have a hip 
down, and if one hip is lower than the other it must be 
natural and not deformitv. It must not have a side- 


bone or any blemishes that reduce its value more than 
a trifle. Car bruises must be of a temporary nature. 

A horse sold to wind and work must have good wind 
and be a good worker and not a cribber. Everything 
else goes. A horse sold to work only must be a good 
worker. A horse sold at the halter is sold just as he 
stands, without any recommendation. 


Next to the auctioneer there are five boards swinging 
on a pivot, and as the horse is brought forward the 
condition of his anatomy is displayed and sometimes 
changed two or three times in the twinkling of an eye 
as the animal is being sold The ring salesman, with 
an eye like an eagle, may discover a blemish which 
was overlooked by an inexperienced consignor or farmer, 
few of whom are conversant with what constitutes a 
sound horse or a hereditary blemish. So purchasers 



and sellers must have their eyes on the board and on 
the horse being offered. There is no time for argument 
or hesitation. A moment's delay and the cry is "Sell 
him;" "$50;" "5;" "$60;" "sold;" "next," So it goes; 
a horse a minute. Business is conducted in a sound 
but methodical way. 

"HE'S o. K. " 

Buyers must be on the alert and keep their "Mink- 
ers" oscillating between the horse, auctioneer, and 
condition signs. With all this immense business there 
is seldom a dispute. In case of any discrepancy it is 
immediately referred to Mr. Samuel Cozzens, the super- 
intendent, who is here, there, and everywhere, very 
watchful of the interests of both the stockyards com- 

pany and the general public. His 

word "goes" 



out a murmur. It is singular, but nevertheless it is a 
fact, that in the space of two years only on one occa- 
sion has recourse to law been necessary to settle a dis- 
pute arising over the sale of a horse. 

One of the most mysterious departments of this im- 
mense business is the "feed tally," which is managed 
entirely by one man, the stable superintendent. There 


are forty stables, and hundreds of horses arrive and are 
shipped daily, singly and in carload lots, consigned, 
reconsigned, sold, rejected, and sometimes passed 
through several hands in a day, but in some quiet and 
unseen way every transaction is silently followed up, 
and at the closing of the day's business if the buyer 
cannot find his horse or horses among this labyrinth 
of stables a call to No. 4 stable, a ring on the "Bell" and 
the number of stall and stable is immediately handed 



him. Horses are consigned to this market from near- 
ly every state in the Union. Lively scenes are enacted 
every day by the shipping and unloading of immense 
droves of horses as they are being led through the yards 
to and from the chutes of the cars. There is a European 
demand for American horses. At a very fashionable 
horse show held in New York last year, and again this 
year, horses bred in the West carried off the honors, 


and they were exhibited with horses imported at fabu- 
lous prices by Gotham's millionaires. Europe exports 
carriage horses and those adapted for vans and busses. 
There are no particularly new features of the horse 
market so far as the demand for home consumption is 
concerned, but with regard to the English export trade 
a new state of affairs obtains. Up to the present day, 
almost, the English have been selling us horses. If 
they bought in return they bought inferior working 


stock at small prices, whereas they sold us blooded an- 
imals at high prices. Now the situation is practically 
reversed, and both in number and value of horses the 
figures are against the English. 

It is not putting it too strongly to say that the Amer- 
can dealer has a firm hold on the English market. 
We are selling England working horses better than 
her own, and we are also selling England light harness 
horses and trotters. 

Naturally this state of affairs is exciting the liveliest 
interest in England. The following figures give the 
details of the trade during twenty-two years, and show 
its growth in the United Kingdom as compared with 
the exports: 



1871-'82 (average per vear) 


*>A Q7J. 

1882-'93 (average per 3" ear) 

fi ftOfl 



1 ft JA7 

09 CA 

1895 .. 

9,1 4.37 

5U 1-1Q 

While the English exports compared favorably with 
their imports in 1894, in 1895 their imports were largely 
in excess. Prior to 1895, too, the value of the exports 
per head had been higher than that of the imports, but 
last year the position was for the first time reversed. 
In 1894 the value of the horses brought into Great 
Britain averaged $120, and those exported $125, while 
last year the imported horses averaged $135 and the ex- 
ported $130. The increase in the value is due to the 
introduction of the American working geldings. The 
following table shows how the value is divided between 
breeding animals and working horses: 






Value per 


Value per 







The following table was prepared by the London 
Sporting Life, and shows the number of horses im- 
ported into the United Kingdom in 1894 and 1895, 
and the countries from which they came: 

Foreign Countries. 








1 802 

2 202 


3 765 



1 285 







United States 

4 843 

10 351 

Argentine Republic 



Other foreign countries 


Total foreign countries 

T7 P.QR 

British Possessions. 
Channel Islands 


British East Indies 




Other British possessions 


Total British possessions 

5 511 


All other countries 


Grand Totals 



Russia has completely dropped out of the English 
market, and there is a decline in the shipments from 
Germany, the Argentine Republic and Belgium. It 
will be seen that the American working horses dominate 
the English market. The value of the imports from 
the United States in 1894 was $898,845, and in 1895 



$1,726,625. In 1894 the Canadian importations were 
worth $905,895, and in 1895 $1,846,285. 

AJ1 the good horses do not go through the Chicago 
market to other places. Many of them stay here. There 
is spirited bidding between Chicago men over specially 
desirable animals. Still, it must be admitted that 
Chicago is a good deal like the farmer who sends all his 

"A BAD UN." 

best to market on the principle that any old thing is 
good enough for him to live on. Considering the 
length and beauty of Chicago's driveways, the valuable 
horse is not so much in evidence as one would expect. 

The coaching division makes a fair showing on state 
occasions, though there are probably less than a score 
of Chicagoans sufficiently interested in a four-in-hand 
to boast a complete turnout. 

By the enthusiasts horseback riding is regarded as the 



poetry of motion and the best of all exercises. A phy- 
sician who rides both a horse and a bicycle puts it this 
way: "After all, the bicycle is but a substitute for 
the horse, where the horse cannot be had, and horseback 
riding remains the perfect exercise for health and en- 
joyment to all who are fortunate enough to be able to 
obtain it, " Somo ardent believers in this exercise claim 


that people who can take it by so doing add twenty 
years to their lives, and add to the enjoyment of the 
whole period by the better health thereby secured. 

The truth of this claim is proved by the unbounded 
health of the commission men at the stockyards, who 
practically live in the saddle. Most of them at fifty 
and sixty years of age, having spent a generation at the 
yards, look and act like youngsters and athletes. They 



laugh at sickness and few dio before having reached a 
ripe old age far past the allotted three score and ten. 

A large percentage of farmers have neglected breed- 
ing horses the last two years, and that fact, with the 
horsemeat canning industries springing up all over the 
country, which kill thousands of useful horses weekly to 
be converted into human food for cur foreign friends, 
or who knows? for a free lunch near by, the outlook 
is that horses will be unusually high in two years, and 
the farmers and breeders who neglect breeding now will 
undoubtedly regret it. 

People who predict that the bicycle and electric car 
will replace the horse should take into consideration 
the fact that a new invention is seldom an entire sub- 
stitute for what it is intended to displace. The elec- 
tric light has not yet displaced gas nor the kerosene 
lamp, the mowing machine has not displaced the scythe, 
and the noble horse will still continue to be a useful 
and much sought after animal. 




ALONG about. 1871 Tom Evers, taking Horace Gree- 
ley's advice, came west, landing at the stockyards, 
Chicago. His first business there was scalping hogs; 
then some consignor shipped in a couple of horses with 
a carload of hogs, and Tom sold them to advantage. 
Next week a half-dozen or so more came, and for these 
he also found a ready market. Then the thought came 
to him that to establish a horse market might be a 
profitable investment of time and money. No sooner 
was the idea conceived than acted upon, Tom soon in- 
ducing the stockyards company to build him a little 
stable. He was right, it proved a profitable invest- 
ment, as a number of rich men will now testify. From 
such small beginnings do great industries grow. Tom 
lived to see his "little stable" develop into the great- 
est horse market in the world, but, his ambition more 
than realized, he met with a harrowing accident, yield- 
ing to the voice of the Eternal Bidder, and fell before 
the hammer of that Great Auctioneer, Death. Although 
without relatives, the esteem and affection with which 
he was regarded may be imagined when it is said 
that the church was filled to overflowing on the oc- 
casion of his funeral, and that old men and women 
wept as the solemn words of the funeral service were 
uttered. "Here lies a man without a single relative to 
mourn his untimely end," said the clergyman, "but 


1, J. S. Cooper 2, F. J. Berry. 3, Jacob Koehler. 4, William 

Locke. 5. F. KenyoD. 6, Leroy Marsh. 7, J. J. 

Ellsworth. 8, H. McNair. 9, James Blair. 

10, A. Evans. 11, A. O. Elder. 

12, Samuel Cozzens. 


looking around this vast, respectable, and grief-stricken 
congregation I know that he must have been a man 
with a big heart, and I am told that there are many men 
in this city who owe their start in life to him." Thus 
closed the life of one who did much for the prosperity 
of the city, and builded for himself a monument in the 
hearts of all whom he knew. 


J. S. Cooper, a man of great perspjcacity and with 
an indomitable will, was the first to see that the loca- 
tion of the city and the presence of the stockyards 
afforded all the requirements necessary to establish 
a great horse market. He bought out Tom Evers, and 
very shortly thereafter the shingle of J. S. Cooper 
swung out to the breeze, Cooper's shrewdness, go- 
aheadativeness and advertising setting the ball spin- 



ning rapidly which Evers had started rolling. And 
today John S. Cooper is a rich man. prominent in both 
social, business and political circles, and is doing as 
extensive a business as any man in the yards. He is 
ably assisted by Andrew MacDonald, who is the equal 
of his chief in knowledge of the business and all-round 

Cooper may justly be considered the father of the 
greatest horse market in the world, and deserves the 
gratitude of the entire northwest for his activity in be- 
half of the horse industry. 


Cooper's example was soon followed by F. J. Berry. 
Mr. Berry came to Chicago in 1872, and for fifteen years 
thereafter was engaged in knocking down horses at the 
old stand at the corner of Michigan Avenue and Monroe 
Street. But Berry was not satisfied with this; his am- 
bition prompted him, and his sagacity urged him to set 


up his block at the stockyards. After getting his guns 
ib order he commenced a great system of advertising, 
in which direction he has spent, during the past ten 
years, the enormous sum of $80,000. F. J. Berry now 
F. J. Berry and Company makes a specialty of 
trotting stock. All sorts of horses come to him, how- 
ever, principally from country dealers and farmers. 
He was the first man to establish auctions in Chi- 

Personally Mr. Berry is well and favorably known 
all over America and Europe as a good deal of a phi- 
lanthropist as well as an authority on horses. A 
friendly turn to a friend in need is as much a common- 
place with him as the sale of a horse. 

One of the successful downtown business men was 
Jacob Koehler, or Jake as he is known. Jake's business 
was extensive and profitable, but one day he fixed his 
eye on the new horse market at the stockyards, and 
was thrilled by the possibilities of a glorious future for 
that enterprise. So putting bag and baggage in a prai- 
rie schooner, he traversed the plains between the city 
and stockyards in the wake of his friend Berry, his sa- 
gacious mind teeming with plans for the rapid upbuild- 
ing of what his insight prophesied would be the great- 
est market in the world. Jake's plans have materialized; 
the market is the biggest in the world, and he is one of 
the biggest men in the market, his stables being the 
rendezvous of many of the largest buyers from all sec- 
tions. Beside having four or five salesmen, Koehler is 
ably assisted by his son Eddy. Eddy is a chip of the 




old block, and can be depended upon never to let the 
toadstools grow where the Koehler stables stand. 

About this time Newgass & Sons, who were in busi- 
ness on the West Side, perceived the advantages of the 
stockyards and decided to identify themselves with its 
future, bringing with them an amount of sticktoative- 
ness, acumen and genuine business ability which has 
helped greatly to make the market what it is. The 
Newgasses do not let the grass grow under their feet 
and are among the leaders of the most progressive 
and enterprising element at the yards, and are second 
to none in the vast extent of business handled. Their 
buyers are particularly instructed to get the breeders' 
best produce, especial attention being paid to getting 




the younger horses fit for export trade. This care in 
selecting has attracted the attention of the eastern 
"400," who are among their largest purchasers. Their 
combination sales of high-class horses are the Mecca of 
many foreign buyers, and the firm can be trusted to 
maintain the standard of style and all-round merit in 
its exportations. 

Close upon the heels of Newgass & Sons came Wil- 
liam Locke. M. Locke had always been a large ship- 
per of horses, and was the first man to ship a carload of 
horses to the stockyards. The yards were a familiar 
spot to him and he was a well-known figure there, and 
his advent as a commission man was hailed with pleas- 


ure by a host of friends. Coming, as he did, when the 
business of the market had reached a high notch, he 
nevertheless found a place for himself ;and his executive 
ability, his keenness and never-tiring activity made 
him a valued factor in the personnel of the. yards, and 
placed him in the front rank of the great firms. He 
has an extensive business connection and acquaintance 


among the farmers and breeders, and is fully alive to 
the possibilities of the market, its needs and promises. 
Unlike many eminently successful men, Mr. Locke is as 
popular and sociable a hail-fellow-well-met as any man 
at the yards, and has the hearty esteem of all his con- 
temporaries and competitors. 

Another popular firm is Marsh & Kenyon. This 
firm makes a specialty of such horses as are in demand 
among eastern and foreign buyers, and their sales are 




always well attended. Before going into the commis- 
sion business, Mr. Marsh was one of the most success- 
ful shippers in America, the same day seeing consign- 
ments from Leroy Marsh on sale in four widely separated 
cities of the Union. No better advertisement for a lot 
of horses could be devised than the name of Marsh; it 
stood as a proof of merit as much as the hallmark on a 
piece of English silver does. The other member of the 
firm, Mr. Kenyon, is equally prominent in his sphere, 
an active, pushing, persevering man, with as keen a 
scent for business as the grayhound has for a stag. 
The two men make excellent working partners,and spare 
neither time, money nor effort to please their consign- 
ors and customers. 

Ellsworth & McNair is another prominent firm, a 
young team, so to speak, which will make a record. 
They are workers, and sacrifice brain and brawn to the 
cause of their chosen profession, reducing its perplex- 




ities and anxieties to the plane of the A B C's by sheer 
force of push. Success is not gained nowadays without 
work, and the work of these young men has told to an 
admirable extent, resulting in a local and eastern client- 
age than which no firm at the yards has a more ex- 
tensive one. In short, they are a couple of hustlers 
who work together like the Siamese twins. 

A young firm of equal standing is that of Blair & 
Evans, the partners being two young men whose insight 
into the country's commercial future directed them to 
the horse market as the most promising field for in- 
vestment. Messrs. Blair and Evans are the youngest 
commission men at the yards, but they are old in ex- 
perience and their success is already enviable. Their 
love of the horse and their understanding of him as a 



commercial commodity leads them to deal only in the 
better class of animals, and as a result they have at- 
tracted much attention from foreign buyers and from 
buyers for the East, and they have a knack of mak- 
ing both consignor and buyers happy. With such an 
object in view it is needless to say that their business 
is on the increase, their receipts frequently amounting 
to fourteen carloads weekly. These young men will 
make a high mark for themselves in the annals of the 
stockyards and of the commission business. 

The last, but by no means the least (he measures six 
feet five) man to start into the business at the yards 
is whole-souled A. 0. Elder. Elder is a true type of 
the western man, and what he does not know about 
the horse and horse market won't tip the scale. Ho 
already employs several buyers and salesmen, and is 
ably aided in conducting his growing business by 
that well-known judicial personage, Judge James 
Blodgett. His stables are always filled with fresh 



arrivals and are a rendezvous for buyers in search 
of carriage horses. He has an extensive connection 
with the breeders of Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, both 
Dakotas and nearly all the states of the West and 
Northwest. A. 0. Elder is a desirable addition to 
the commission merchants, and bis stable makes an 
admirable "capstone" to the line of famous stables 


of which his is the latest. A. O. is among the most 
candid, good-natured and cheery of men, and has al- 
ways a bench and the latch string out, and a gathering 
of pleasant people about his stable door. 

Samuel Cozzens, the superintendent of the stockyards, 
is a splendid example of what energy and "push" will 
do. He is a self-made man if ever there was one, his 
present fortune being wholly the result of his own labor 
and economy. He is also a director of the Live Stock 


Mr. Cozzens came to Chicago about 1870, with an in- 
domitable will and a pair of hands as his only capital. 
He went up to the stockyards and applied for a position 
in the stables any kind of a position from groom to 
foreman. The person to whom he applied looked him 
over from head to foot and then answered, "You can't 
go to work here in those clothes." "No, " replied Coz- 
zens, "but I can get other clothes." He ,was told he 
might try, and next morning appeared bright and earl}' 
in a pair of overalls and a jumper. Ho was made of 
the right metal and was stable boss in no time. 

From that position he has risen rapidly step by step 
until the present time, when his is one of the most re- 
sponsible places in the yards He is a worker from 
early morning until late at night in the interests of the 
yards, which have become the apple of his eye, as it 
were. The machinery of his department runs smoothly 
year in and year out, BO perfectly does he plan and 
general it. Fifteen hundred horses go in and out almost 
daily without a hitch or harsh word. 

Much of the success of the horse market is due to the 
exertions of Mr. Cozzens. He is a very quiet, de- 
termined man, with plenty of grit, and is a good reader 
of human nature. If ever a man deserved his rise from 
the bottom to the top of the ladder, Sam Cozzens does, 
He has not stopped rising yet. .and will be heard of in 
the future. 

This is the galaxy of men who have founded a horse 
market beside which every other market in the world 
is insignificant. They combine all the best qualities 
of the modern American, enterprise, energy and inde- 



fatigability, backed up by shrewdness, sagacity and 
foresight, and welded together by that sterling quality 
which is an attribute of all the best men of all conn- 
tries manliness. It might have been of these men 
collectively that Pope said: "An honest man is the 
noblest *vork of God." 


This bank is an institution as old as the stockyards 


themselves, in which it is located. The staff of officers 
includes some of the oldest members of the stockyards 
company, being composed of Levi B. Doud, President; 
Geo. T. Williams, Vice-President; Roswell Z. Herrick, 
Cashier; Gates A. Ryther, Assistant Cashier; John B. 
Sherman, Levi B. Doud, Irus Coy, Geo. T. Williams, 
Roswell Z. Herrick, Nelson Morris and Samuel Cozzens, 

The National Live Stock Bank commenced business 
on March 1, 1888, as successor to the Union Stock Yard 
National Bank. This institution is a recognized factor in 
facilitating the operations of the live stock, shipping, 
dressed meat and packing interests of the country, the 
magnitude of the financial transactions involved being 
shown by aggregate deposits of over $500,000,000 for 
the year 1895. Its capital is $1,000,000 and its surplus 



IT is an old saw that "truth is stranger than fiction," 
though the votaries of the realistic schools of litera- 
ture who decry the present vogue of stirring tales of 
adventure are apparently oblivious to this fact for fact 
it is, as well as proverb. If there is any so-called ro- 
mantic writer who can out-class by imaginary tales 
the real happenings in the life of the hero of this 
sketch, then we are ready to concede that he has the 
pen of a ready liar. Nor do we recall any defunct 
writer who dreamed more things between Heaven and 
earth than are yarned of by this wild-west philosopher 
in telling the true life story of himself and the valiant 
"Nigger," his other self his horse 1 

The fame of Wild Horse Harry has already spread 



far and wide over this continent, and at least as far 
abroad as Buffalo Bill's show has traveled. But not 
every one knows that he is now permanently established 
at the Union Stockyards, in a unique position. 

His station is at the main entrance of the yards, where 
he may almost always be seen, like a police patrol. It 
is his function to rope or lasso any stampeding cattle 
whose restless spirit prompts thorn to break guard and 
run wild, which happens at times, and lively is the 
chase he has with the Wild Texas fellows to rope them. 
But this is only fun for Harry and Nigger, and but just 
serves to keep their muscles limber, for Harry is as full 
of a love for ventures as an egg of meat, and as fond of 
Nigger as well, as fond as Nigger is of him. Big old 
Nig is a western horse whom Harry brought from 
Montana and has ridden and owned from a four-year- 
old colt. Nig is black in color, and though not espe- 
cially handsome,is wonderfully intelligent and the hero 
of many a brave and daring feat. He and his master 
have been friends and companions in all sorts of weather 
and all 'manner of "scraps" for many years, and, says 
the bold ranger, "Any man that loves a horse better 
than I do has got to eat him, and any man that's spoil- 
ing for a fight let him box my horse 1" 

Yet dearly as he loves his horse, Harry declares he 
will give him to any one who can mount him. This 
seems a generous offer enough until you learn that no 
one can back Nig except his master, and that even by 
him the horse must be mounted on the full run, or not 
at all. Once off, he goes like a bird and looks like a flash 
of black lightning. No cavalry horse can approach 


Nig on evolutions, and he can wheel twice while any 
other horse can turn once. It is a thrilling sight even 
in the yards to see the ranger and his horse when they 
round up loose cattle, and perhaps rope and tie down 
the refractory ones. Harry does not carry a gun here, 
and can fight a steer without one if he gets into trouble. 

The ranger's real name is H. Clayton Partlow, and he 
hails from the Lone Star State, having been born on 
the Rio Grande, some four decades ago, and has been 
in the saddle from a young child. He concerns himself 
little with other knowledge than that pertaining to 
horses and cattle, and these he knows literally "from 
the ground up." In appearance he is smooth faced and 
youthful, and if he were a lady he would doubtless 
plume himself on being "no older than he looks," 
which is about twenty-five, but he owns to forty and 
one years and they seem a short period for the occur- 
ring of so many adventures. He is six feet in the stock- 
ings, weighs 190 pounds, and though there are few parts 
of his body which do not show scars of knife wounds 
or bullet marks, and the startling adventures he has 
been engaged in make one's blood run cold, yet he is as 
harmless as a baby if his temper is not ruffled. 

Though so at home on horseback and so handy with 
the gun and lasso on Nigger's back, he is equally ready 
with the weapons given him by nature, and has never 
yet been knocked out in his amateur scraps, not to men- 
tion one or two private matches made up on the quiet 
with a well-known cock of the walk at the yards. 

Harry is a "bronco buster," as well as a cow-boy, and 
when consignments of wild horses arrive he can be seen 


giving them their first lesson, and they are like India 
rubber in his hands you see them and you don't see 
them ten feet in the air and a bound! But Harry is 
all there and seems as if glued to the saddle. 

Wild Horse Harry acquired his name as the hero of 
Wild Horse Canons, in Mitchell County, Texas. These 
canons are miles long, and have so-called "pockets 1 ' 
where wild horses harbored. At nights a wily stallion, 
their leader, would steal out and run off stock from the 
ranchmen's herds, to the wrath and disgust of the 
owners. Harry was very successful in making counter 
raids and reclaiming stray horses of different brands at 
so much a head, and at times trapping the wild horses 
also. The fly stallion 
was Harry's favorite 
quest, and many hours 
were spent in trying for 
a look at him, and at last 
one day the hunter 
caught sight o f the 
wily herd-king. Harry 
was appointed to catch 
or destroy this horse, 
but on his errand met 
with an accident in 
the canons which de- 
tained him there for 
weeks, during which READY FOB BUSINESS. 
he was given up for lost. During this time he lay 
with no one but his horse for companion, and living on 
the small supply of jerked buffalo which he had car- 


ried with him; but what, to the ranger, was worse, his 
clever prey escaped him. 

The wild horse hero also became a member of the 
famous Texan rangers, a body of picked men made up 
of the best and boldest in the state. They were a terror 
to train robbers; mounted on the gamiest and fleetest 
stock in the Lone Star, and armed to the teeth, these 
dauntless riders knew no fear, would ride day and 
night, and as Harry says, "Ten of us could lick 200 
Indians." They were organized to catch horse thieves 
and "knights of the road," and had authority from the 
state to shoot a criminal on sight. They guarded trains, 
hunted train and stage robbers, arrested lots of men, 
and have about cleared that country of its desperate 
characters. They were paid by the state and are still 
in existence as a body. There was a certain grim thor- 
oughness about their work calculated to strike due ter- 
ror to the hearts of even the old-time border ruffians. 
For example: Hunting stray horses one day, Harry 
found five men hanging up in a pecan tree I They had 
been stealing horses. Sometimes hanging alone did not 
satisfy the avengers, and once in hanging some horse 
thieves in South Texas in 1881 Harry received a curious 
wound, of which he still carries the scar. The thieves 
were being riddled with bullets by some one in the audi- 
ence, when a stray bullet struck Harry on the lip, by acci- 
dent. Harry served three years with this brave band, 
under their leader, the redoubtable Captain Davis, and 
had many "hair-breadth 'scapes" and hair-raising ex- 
periences, and some almost pathetic ones. Of these he 
tells a story which well illustrates the soft heart of the 


man under all his wild courage and ranger trappings. 
He had captured a well-known desperado of the most 
hardened character a man-killer and horse thief for 
whose capture a reward of $1,000 was offered who had 
theretofore successfully eluded justice; but, as Harry 
says, he "was on to him," and took him in a dance hall 
in Fort Worth. But, to use the ranger's phrase again, 
he "captured a white elephant," meaning that when 
he had got him fast he did not know what to do with 
him, because of the pitiful tale of the bandit about his 
family. This touched the tender-hearted ranger through 
the husk of legal vengeance, and upon the bandit's 
word of honor to reform, his captor good-naturedly took 
his guns from him and turned him loose. There must 
have been something genuine in the bandit's plea and 
in the man, for Harry has never had cause to regret his 
mercy, and the one-time criminal is now a well-respect- 
ed citizen. 

Wild Horse Harry can give you the separate history 
of each of his many scars of battle. That on his fore- 
hand, for instance, he received in Pine Ridge, Dakota, 
fighting with a half-breed; while the fight was waging 
the half-breed's squaw stuck a knife into his hand and 
arm. The one on his forehead grew out of getting up 
a collection for something or other, and calling on a 
"bar-keep" for a contribution in Deadwood, in 1879, 
the bar-keep stirring up a brawl. And so forth. 

In 1888 Harry was on the range in Nebraska, where 
also, a state ranger may shoot a criminal down for re- 
sistance. Here he had a very sad experience, losing a 
dear friend at the hands of the Indians. At this time 



the Black Hawks, 
Apaches, and Sioux 
roamed in hostile 
bands about the 
Northwest, and the 
ranger's unfortunate 
friend fell a victim 
to savage cruelty. 

"Pard and I," 
says Harry, "were 
rid in' across a Ne- 
braska trail in the 
dry season, and in 
huntin' for water HARRY AND HIS OLD FRIENDS. 

we separated and got lost." Harry tracked back on 
his own trail to where he and his friend had parted, 
and then he followed his pard's, but he had not gone 
far when he found the poor fellow lying lifeless with 
his scalp off. Then Harry, the Wild Horse ranger, 
swore a great oath! and packing his dead comrade 
across his own saddle he returned to the nearest camp, 
and arming himself "to the guards" he went forth, 
vowing death on the Apaches, and not to be satisfied 
until his comrade was avenged. Merely to say that he 
is Wild Horse Harry is to say that he kept his word. 

In direct contrast to this grim side of the bold Tex- 
an's nature is his life-saving record, which is no less 
remarkable. He is an officer of the Humane Society, 
and there is a deal of the humane about the wild rider, 
for in telling the story of his poor friend's death the 
great tears stood upon cheeks that blanch not in the 


face of danger for himself. He seems to "scent" run- 
aways, and but a short time ago as a horse and buggy 
were passing from Forty-second to Forty-seventh 
Street, near his post, at runaway speed, Harry, seeing 
the flying horse, unbuckles his rope far quicker than 
it can be told, gives it a twist, turns it loose, throws 
it settles down easily over the horse and gently draws 
him down to a stand-still, all to the great relief and 
gratitude of the frightened woman in the vehicle. 

On another occasion Harry was following along the 
street with a bunch of mules, when a horse drawing a 
buggy containing a woman and child became frightened 
at the mule strappers (the long whips cracking over the 
backs of the mules) and dashed off, to the threatened 
destruction of horse and humans. But quick as thought 
Harry had out his lasso, and sent it humming over the 
fractious creature's head. It threw him up, turned his 
head where his tail should be and, as it proved, broke 
his neck, but saved two valuable lives. 

Many men are wearing medals for bravery and mer- 
itorious deeds but by the same token, not all who de- 
serve them wear them, when men like Wild Horse Harry 
go uustarred. But in this, as in the case of monuments, 
those who deserve them do not need them, and bravery 
undecorated,like "beauty unadorned, "is often adorned 
the most. 

To return to the same thought of the beginning. If 
some realist desires to challenge the romantic writers 
on their own ground, he can find the blood and thun- 
der, steel and musket, sentiment and sorties, all ready 
to his hand in the life of Wild Horse Harry and it 
would make a big book. Here is a chance for a" veritist. " 


JOHN S. BRATTON was born in Tyrone, County Downe, 
Ireland, thirty-five years ago. His father, grandfather 
and great-gran d 
father were horse- 
men before him, the 
former, who is a J. 
P. and G. P. L., and 
a rare type of the old 
country h u n t i n g 
squire, still occupy- 
ing the old home- 
stead, called Hunters' 
Retreat, which has 
been in the family 
for over 200 years. 

Mr. Bratton, or 

Johnny as he is JOHNNY BRATTON. 

commonly called, left 

the parental roof-tree at the early age of seventeen, sail- 
ing with some good old Irish steeplechase horses, which 
he had himself trained and ridden, for New Zealand. In 
the records of the London Sporting Life can be seen 
many accounts of his well earned victories in hard rid- 
den races over four-mile courses in the face of obstacles 
which would have daunted many an older rider, proving 
the skill and reputation he had gained even at that 

early age. 



Meeting with an accident in New Zealand, in which 
his leg was broken, he returned to the old home. The 
return of strength saw him set sail for America, the 
land of the brave and the free. His career in this 
country was commenced as an auctioneer at Tat- 
tersall's, Philadelphia, but inducements to come to 
this city presenting themselves, he soon found himself 
in the great Garden City of the globe. 

He is not only one of the famous auctioneers of 
America, but is a most thorough, all-round judge of a 
carriage and saddle horse. He is also one of the best 
four-in-hand and tandem whips on the western conti- 
nent, being a familiar and welcome figure at swell 
horse shows. From those exhibitions he has carried 
away with him enough blue ribbon to make a lady's 
dress, trophies which are now displayed in the "den" of 
his cozy home. His reputation as a buyer is widespread 
and he is kept busy buying and selecting horses for the 
eastern elite, beside which he has a large western con- 
tingency of customers. 

But.with all his success Johnny's heart has remained 
as big as a bullock's, and with all his travels he lovts, 
next to a good horse, the land of the shamrock. 


EVERYBODY knows her; she is fully as indispensable 
as the largest stockholder of the stockyards company, 
and a good deal more popular than anybody else con- 
nected with the yards. Her full name is Mrs. Mary 
Valanta, but she has been Mary for short so long that 
she would have to think twice before recognizing her- 
self as Mrs. Valanta. 


Originally she came from the land of perpetual 
sunshine, song and macaroni, but that was when she 
was a nut-brown "bimbo, "and now her only relic of her 
native soil is a dulcet accent which is only pronounced 
enough to suggest that she is a countrywoman of Patti. 

Nineteen years ago she was thrown upon her own re- 
sources, like many less gifted people, and with a basket 


of rosy apples on her arm she made her debut at the 
stockyards as Mary the apple woman. "Appul, seer?" 
she said to the first man she saw. The man wasDayt. 
Gray, and the sight of the blushing Baldwins so early 
in the morning gave him a taste for apples which he 
retains to this da} 7 to Mary's profit. Day in and day 
out, rain or shine, snow or fine, Mary walked from pen 
to pen, from stable to stable and from office to office, 
repeating the magic formula, "Appul, seer?" which 
invariably brought a nickel or dime clinking into her 
capacious pocket. 

Of course Mary did not know she was anything but 
the least of the creatures deriving support from the 
great stockyards, but her cheerful face, glowing wares 
and persistent industry had become a welcome figure 
there, indissolubly associated with juicy apples held be- 
fore a man's eyes just at that moment between break- 
fast and lunch when an apple is the only desirable 
addition to his avoirdupois, and is a pleasant foretaste 
of the coming meal. 

John B. Sherman stepped out of his office one Satur- 
day at fifty-five minutes past twelve o'clock, and Mary 
appeared before him with an especially tempting apple, 
newly polished with her apron before she turned the 
corner, and a particularly cheery request to sell it. 
John B. was hungry, and it occurred to him that a wom- 
an who knew enough to be on hand with something to 
eat just at that auspicious moment was a genius deserv- 
ing of the gratitude of mankind. Being Saturday, the 
yards closed at one o'clock,and dropping John B. 's nickel 
into her pocket and a smiling curtsy to John B., Mary 


trudged homeward. Sherman looked after her vanish- 
ing figure and experienced another inspiration such as 
came to him when he decided to build Chicago a stock- 
yard; and calling an employe to him he said, "Get a 
carpenter to put up the snuggest fruit-stand he knows 
how, right near this entrance, and you see to it that it's 
done and stocked with fruit before Monday morning. 
And when Mary comes on Monday you tell her it's 

Sherman having touched the button, the employe 
did the rest, and thus Mary hasstood^in her own little 
place of business, and dispensed not only apples but 
luscious grapes and golden oranges to a large and grow- 
ing circle of steady customers, among whom are cattle 
kings and millionaires from all over the country. And 
now she is as much a fixture at the yards as John B. 
Sherman himself, or as Phil Armour, George F. Swift or 
John H.Wood 

Mary has raised and educated a family of ten children 
on her earnings, and now has the satisfaction of seeing 
two of her daughters holding prominent professional 
positions in the city, and two of her strapping sons well 
fixed at the yards. She might retire from business now 
if she wished, hut she looks upon the stockyards as her 
home and every one in it as one of her family, and 
would no more think of leaving it than she would of 
selling anything but the choicest apples. That Mary 
may live long, and long continue to grace the stockyards 
with her cheerful face, her pleasant word and rosy 
apples is the unanimous wish of every frequenter of 
the yards. 


DAVID MACFEAT, the champion high-priced horse 
auctioneer of this decade, was born forty-three years ago 
in Chester County, Pa., of Scotch parentage. He started 
on his brilliant career 
at the callow age of 
seventeen, se 1 1 i n g 
farms in his native 
county, his buyers 
being g i o u p s of 
shrewd if slow farm- 
ers, who were given 
chronic stitches in 
the side by Dave's 
jokes on the block 
(the block was usual- 
ly a wagon, but that 
point of vantage only 
sent Dave's wits act- 
ing the faster to DAVE MACFEAT. 
make up in results what he might lose in dignity). 

For seven years he auctioneered for W. D.Althouee 
of Philadelphia, gaining experience and developing 
ability with phenomenal rapidity. He sold the first 
horse which was auctioned by Fish & Doer of New 

York, and opened the first auction sale at Richmond, 



Va. He DOW sells in Buffalo, New York and Chicago, 
spending one day of each week in each place, and 
practically living on the block and in the sleeper. For 
this arduous labor he is paid $15,000 annually. 

He has the enviable reputation of pleasing both seller 
and buyer, a task which many auctioneers relinquish 
unaccomplished early in life, laying the flattering unc- 
tion of great achievement to their souls if one party is 
satisfied. But then Dave is a suave and gentlemanly 
man, whose coolness of temper would put to shame the 
proverbial cucumber, and he has never been known to 
be angry. 

His record for rapidity of sales is phenomenal. In 
the years 1894 and 1895 he sold between 85,000 and 
90,000 horses. On his banner day in Chicago he sold 
748 horses in eight hours and four minutes. On an- 
other occasion he sold twenty-two single horses in 
eight and one-fourth minutes, netting the shipper a 
profit of $840. He can sell a horse for a good price as 
well as in a short time His highest priced carriage 
horse brought $1,650, a carload of seventeen carriage 
horses bringing $18,000. At his worst he will sell a 
horse a minute for eight hours on a stretch, his voice 
and his energy never flagging, and his temper and wit 
never failing. 

He can crack a joke and take one, but by the time 
the farthest away of his auditors has commenced to 
laugh ha has made half a dozen sales. The shorthand 
writer has not been born who could take down Dave 
Macfeat's lightning streaks of language when on the 
block, and the kinetoscope would be silly in a minute 
with picturing his gestures. 


Off the block Dave is a hail-fellow-well-met whose 
keen brown eye has always a cordial twinkle in it for 
every man and woman who ever bought a 4iorse of him, 
and whose heart keeps its warmest corner for every 
friend who hasn't. He is a nearly perfect American 
edition of the canny Scot, and like most of his ances- 
tors, he can take a man in in the wink of an eye as well 
as he can a horse. Dave is known from the Atlantic to 
the Pacific, and is as popular an auctioneer as ever got 
on to a rostrum to cry, "Gentlemen, start him up! 


A THRIVING industry carried on at the stockyards, 
though not formally "set down in the bond," is that 
of Mr. Daniel McCarthy, who is in the goat business. 
Daniel is a very nice, respectable old Irish gentleman 
(and a bachelor), who breeds, buys and sells Angora and 
native goats, at prices ranging from three dollars to ten 
dollars each. He supplies quite a rushing demand for 
these festive animals for children's carriages, and he 
has a number of Polish, Greek and Arab customers who 
have other uses for Billy, the goat. The Poles use 
them for their milk, and the Greeks and Arabs esteem 
their flesh highly for food. 

A great many ladies call upon Dan upon the pretense 
of wanting goats, but in truth it is only to see and talk 
to him. Dan is all right, and the greatest trouble he 
has is to evade that stupid assessor we wot of who can 
make no distinction between live stock and real estate, 
and insists on taxing him at so much per "front foot" 
for all "property found a-boundin' and a-buttin' on 
the strate." Long may Mr. McCarthy and his busi- 
ness wax fat and prosper 1 



IT is probable that few people know that there are a 
dozen or more different styles of dressing lambs for the 
different markets of the United States alone, to say 
nothing of the styles in vogue for the foreign market. 
There are sixteen stages in the dressing of the carcass, 
but up to the time when the pelt is removed the differ- 
ences in the styles of dressing are not apparent. To the 
layman it is likely that these differences of style will 
appear a mere distinction without a difference, or per- 
haps the difference between tweedledee and tweedledum, 
but to the initiated the differences are as obvious and 
as important as the difference between half a dozen 
dozens and six dozen dozens. 

In the great rooms of the dressing department nearly 
200 men and boys move about their task without con- 
flict and without confusion. Each of these men and boys 
are skilled only in one infinitesimal part of the process 
of dressing the animal, but by countless repetitions in 
the practice of that one fragment of knowledge they 
have each become so expert that in an incredibly few 
minutes after the lamb bleated softly in the pens below 
it is hung in the great cooler ready dressed for one of 
many markets. 

Some parts of the work take longer than others, and 
the number of men apportioned to each is such that 



the carcass will be kept moving on, or will receive its 
proper attention all the time. 

The first step in the dressing, following the sticking, 
is breaking the toes, and right at this point is one pe- 
culiarity in style, for in the shipping lamb and Nor- 


wich dress the hind toes are left on. One man attends 
to this, and he can treat from 450 to 500 carcasses an 
hour. If they are lambs they break at what is known 
as the lamb joint, but by the time they have become 
sheep the bones at that spot have knit, and the break 
is made at the next lower joint. 


Four men, called the fore-quarter leggers, stand 
close by to seize the animal and skin the parts of the 
carcass indicated by their name. The breast pullers, 
five in number and next in line, remove the skin from 
the breast. A boy performs a similar operation on the 
jaws. The toes are then cut off by another boy. 

The carcass has now reached a group of men who 
take the skin off the right hind leg, and it immediately 
goes into the hands of five other operators who do the 
same on the left hind leg. Next nine men "face" the 
sheep, or take the skin oft" the belly, while the back 
pullers finally remove the skin entirely from the body, 
and do it in a twinkle. A number of boys with a 
sharp knife let the heart's blood out. A man then comes 
along who splits the breast open with the aid of a knife 
and heavy mallet. 

Three wipers for the front and as many for the back 
of the carcass cleanse it as it is still suspended from 
the hook, and they ai'e followed by the six men who 
cut out the entrails and save the cauls. The caul is 
the fat off the belly. It is dressed on the lamb and 
on its arrangement depend some of the variations in 
fashions of dressing, as also does "setting" the lamb, 
which is one of the last operations in dressing. The 
"set" is a small stick of wood, pointed at both ends, 
and is used to keep the carcass in shape after it is 
dressed and ready for market, as we see it in the butch- 
ers' shops. For all but the "Boston lambs," two sets, 
or sticks, are used. The Bostonese prefer but one stick 
in their lamb. The "sets" are laid flatwise diagonally 
across the small of the back, and the flesh along the 
front edge is turned back and pierced by the "sets." 


The finishing touches are made by the men who put 
on the cauls. It is pinned on the carcass with skewers, 
and holes are cut, through which the kidneys are al- 
lowed to drop outside. Like silk or satin fabrics, the 
caul has a right and a wrong side, as it were. The 
veined, or smooth side, is out, as distinguished from 
others, when dressed in the Boston and Philadelphia 
styles. Not only does the Boston epicure require that the 
points already spoken of shall be rigidly observed in the 
dressing of his meat, but he also insists that the ribs 
be cut. That is, they are cut about two inches and a 
half from the ends and laid back with the flesh. In 
addition to having the veined side outward, the Phila- 
delphia lamb, as a distinguishing mark, has its forelegs 
"pinned up," which means that these legs are bent up 
at the knee joint and caught and held there by a cord 
of the leg, exposed for the purpose. 

The Norwich lamb, as has already been said, is not 
bereft of its hind toes, and it has another unique feature 
in that the caul is not put on. The regular shipping 
lamb, which goes almost everywhere, is merely the 
name of a style of dressing, and is otherwise known as 
the Washington market lamb. The latter term is ap- 
plied to the poorer qualities. The shipping lamb, then, 
has the breast cut partly through and the caul is 
placed across the belly, with the usual two sets across 
the back. In all cases except the Springfield and New 
York and Baltimore lambs the thin end of the caul is 
wrapped about the legs, but in these three styles the 
arrangement is just the reverse. The New York lamb 
has its ribs cut, and the people of that state have seen 


that its toes shall not be left on, when marketed, by 
passing laws to that effect 

A display of originality is seen with regard to the 
"Providence" lamb in the dressing of the caul across 
the back instead of the front of the carcass. Its ribs 
are also cut. A lamb which is treated precisely the 
same way goes to the table of the Newport sojourner 
under the name of "Newport" lamb. 

The Milwaukee style differs from the shipping lamb 
from the fact that the breast is cut entirely through, 
causing the ribs to spring back and making a cavity 
with a wider opening. 

The "straight sheep" or ordinary fashion of dressing 
sheep has no "set" on the back, only a belly set, a 
short piece of lath inside the carcass to keep it open 
and cool. The forelegs are caught up at the knee and 
held by a cord of the leg as in the case of the Philadel- 
phia lamb. The ribs are not cut. The New York year- 
ling is another style of dress, this animal being broken 
at the "lamb joint." Its characteristic features are the 
two sets across the back and the absence of the caul. 

The names of these styles of dress generally indicate 
the locality in which the lamb or mutton is marketed. 
The shipping lamb, however, goes almost everywhere 
in the United States except to Boston, New York or 
Philadelphia. Thirty per cent represents the New York 
style and twenty the Boston, while ten will cover all 
other fashions. There is a Baltimore style of dressing 
lambs, but it is little heeded by the western killers, 
and the shipping lamb is sent in its place. The real 
Baltimore lamb is dressed with one set across the back, 


like the Boston lamb, only the ribs are uncut and the 
thick end of the caul is around the hind legs. 

Custom, fashion and fancy have established all these 
styles in the matter of dressing lamb and mutton, and 
there appears to be no other reason for them, but they 
are none the less carefully observed by the shippers, who 
find it to their interest to observe the idiosyncrasies of 
the consumer. 

, "BILL." 

ANDY RILEY and Tim Gleason are partners in the sheep 
business at the stockyards, and owing to a curious sort 
of tripartite agreement they have with their silent part- 
ner, they are likely to remain so as long as he is suffi- 


ciently able-bodied to follow his present occupation of 
"separating the sheep from the goats." For this curi- 
ous individual will not follow either of his co-partners 
unless the other is along. 

"Bill" is an immense, white Cotswold sheep, weigh- 
ing about 200 pounds, and of very forbidding visage 




and haughty demeanor. No liberties may be taken with 
his dignity ship, and the slickest "con" man of them all 
could make no headway with Bill, for nothing could in- 
duce him to acknowledge any "friend from the coun- 
try, 1 ' however winning, for he will not make friends 
with any one, It is his duty to assist his masters in 


loading and unloading sheep by leading them from and 
to the pens and freight cars. This one thing he does, 
and does it well, and shows the value of concentration, 
As soon as his work of guiding to a car is done, Mr. 
Billy slyly slips to one side, and "steps down and out;" 
no, danger of his being carried away or "getting on the 


wrong car" no indeed! Bill is too sharp for that. 

When he has a drove to deploy from the car he 
marches in among them, mixes up with the "push" a 
few minutes, just to calm their fears, and then trots 
away, the gang most obediently following in his wake. 
Bill doesn't mind water, and though most sheep are as 
averse to "aqua pura" as a Kentucky colonel, Bill makes 
small account of that, but dashes through the puddles 
and, willy-nilly, the rest must take their medicine. 
Once at the pen, he leaves them and goes on attending 
to his affairs. Sometimes a fresh urchin or two who 
have not tested Bill's temper will try some funny busi- 
ness on him, but never for long. He forms himself 
into a hollow square, draws up in line of battle, and 
goes into action with a gi < ap3-and-caniater sort of 
charge calculated to discourage the enemy at an early 
stage of the fight, and the fly urchin soon gets enough 
if not too much of this fray. 

Andy and Tim, Bill's joint owners, are both single 
men and right good fellows Up to date neither has 
been captured, so far as known, by any bloomered leap- 
year girl. Perhaps even these brave Amazons hesitate 
a little before daring the necessary ordeal of asking 
Bill's permission to pay their addresses to his so-called 


IT is well known that the Jews will not eat meat 
which has been killed by the ordinary method of slaugh- 
tering, but that Jewish butchers maintain a "kosher- 


man" at the stockyards to kill cattle intended for the 
Jewish markets, is not so well known. Besides the 
kosherman there is also in constant attendance a rabbi 
to see that every step of the kosher killing is performed 
with exactness, and that cleanliness is preserved through- 
out. In fact, the Hebrew word "kosher" means clean, 
and "kosherman," it will be seen, is a hybrid produced 
by tacking the English word to the Hebrew. 
The animal is thrown upon its back, is shackled by 



the hind legs, and with a razor-sharp knife the kosher- 
man cuts the throat with a forward thrust. Even the 
cutting is regulated by rule, the knife describing a 
stroke and a half a full stroke forward and a half stroke 
backward. Should the kosherman miss his aim and 
vary a hair's breadth from the prescribed rule in making 
the forward stroke, the bullock is condemned and sold 
to any one who will take it for anything he will pay. 

There is not in Chicago a solitary butcher, Jew or 
gentile, who understands the anatomy of the animal so 
exactly as to be able to draw the veins, and as the Jews 
will not eat the veinous parts of the meat the hind 
quarters and all like portions are not sold to the Jew- 
ish meat markets. In fact, the Jews abhor blood, and it 
is for that reason that the animal is cut instead of be- 
ing knocked on the head with a sledge. The carcass is 
subjected to a rigid examination, called "seerche, " and 
should a bit of tissue be found on the lung, as is often 
the case, from contraction after exposure to cold, should 
the lung adhere to the wall of the chest, should nails 
be found in the paunch, or should there be an abscess 
anywhere, the meat is condemned as unfit for food. It is 
needless to add that the hog is and always has been 
deemed unfit for the table of a Jew. 

After the killing the meat hangs four or five days, 
and every day the rabbi washes it thoroughly. After 
that he affixes his mark, a group of Hebrew characters 
which signify that the meat is fit for food for his race. 

The reformed Jews do not require that the meat 
shall be blessed, but that ceremony is performed by 
the rabbi for the satisfaction of the orthodox Jews, of 
whom he is one. 


The preparations made for the slaughter are elaborate. 
A knife of Damascus steel, sixteen inches long, only 
may be used, and when not in use is kept carefully 
sheathed. Should a nick the size of a pinhead be made 
in the blade the rabbi, who examines it before the kill- 
ing of every steer, orders it to be ground before use, for 
fear that some contagious matter may adhere to the 
rough edge. 

There is no race of people on earth so immaculately 
cleanly in preparing food as the Jews. No matter how 
poor a Jewish family nor how filthy their habits in 
other respects, their cuisine is neat as the proverbial 
wax. This is the result among the orthodox Jews of 
religious tenets, while among the reformed Jews clean- 
liness is maintained for sanitary reasons, the Mosaic 
code being interpreted by them as a set of sanitary 
laws originating at a period of the world's history when 
cleanliness was not generally regarded as necessary to 


COLUMNS and pages have been written about Harris' 
dog Boz, but Harry is a subject of unwritten history. 
Jimmy Norton may be technically termed a herder, and 
his partner in business is Harry. There is not a more 
industrious nor conscientious every-day worker at the 
yards than Harry, and every day the partners may be 
seen at work from early morning until late at night 
driving cattle from the yards to outside slaughter- 
houses. That sounds a simple business enough, but it 
requires never relaxing alertness andnirnbleness on the 
part of both man and dog, and affords many chances 
for the display of dog wit in particular It is needless 
to say that Harry is a collie; 110 other could have ac- 
quired so much cattle wisdom. 

When, at sharp half past twelve every day, the gates 



of a pen are thrown open, Jirnmy gallops up on his 
pony and rides away at the head of the herd of out- 
coming steers to the weigh scales. Harry has taken his 
post beside the gate, and quietly waits until the very 
last of the animals is out, when he slips up behind them 
and drives them off in the wake of Jim, who heads his 
herd from scale to scale and finally out to the slaugh- 
ter house. During all the maneuvers of repeated turn- 
ings, weighings and divisions, Harry's ears are pricked 
up and his eyes glance quickly from side to side to eee 
that no steer escapes. He needs no cue to do the right 
thing at the right time, and Jim himself is less quick to 
see signs of a steer's intention to bolt than Harry is. 
But should it be dark and a bullock succeed in slipping 
out of the bunch to another herd, Harry does nothing 
but glance at his master, as much as to say, "Never 
mind, I'll find him in the morning." He is as good as 
his word,and next morning is on hand brighter and ear- 
lier than usual, and without a word of reminder from 
anybody scents out the stray bullock from a pen full 
of steers as nearly alike as the peas in apod, and quick- 
ly heads him into the right pen. 

There is an ordinance existing which prohibits the 
drivir.g of cattle through the downtown streets between 
the hours of eight in the morning and six in the evening. 
But it sometimes happens that a herd of cattle must be 
transferred from the stockyards to some downtown 
slaughter house during those very hours. The difficulty 
to be overcome is that whoever drives the cattle will be 
arrested for violating the law. That is where Harry 
comes in. The cattle are driven out of the yards with 


Harry at their heels, while two or three herdsmen on 
ponies ride along through the alleys running parallel' 
with the street on which the herd is. Harry lacks nothing 
in intellect, and only wants a human form to be capable 
of discharging the duties of citizenship, but as the out- 
raged policemen don't know that, they cannot arrest 
him. As he can be trusted to take care of his end of 
the line, all the herdsmen have to do is to keep the steers 
from bolting farther than the alleys, and so cattle are 
safely transferred through the city, ordinances to the 
contrary notwithstanding. 

Sometimes they are city cattle which must be trans- 
ferred that is, cattle which have been raised in the city 
and sold to the stockyards, and resold to some slaugh- 
ter house and then were it not for Harry there would 
be trouble. Ten chances to one a cow raised in the city 
as soon as she finds herself on the street bolts for her 
old home. She is so homesick and determined to get 
there that neither Harry nor any other collie could head 
her off, and the best he can do is to track her to her 
home, and as soon as possible return to the yards for a 
herdsman to accompany him to the cow's place of 
refuge. There is no man in the yards so stupid when 
he sees Harry bound in late at night after such a chase 
as not to know that all he has to do next morning is to 
mount his horse and be led directly to the runaway, 
when she will be brought back in triumph. 

These are only some of Harry 'sduties,but these alone 
render him an indispensable member of the stockyards 
staff, and assure him of a life-long job, and, perhaps, 
a pension for faithful service when his usefulness is over. 


For Harry is no longer young, as the gray hair around 
his eyes will testify, although he is so active when on 
duty that you would never guess his age. He is not a 
sociable dog, and if you should learn the number of 
winters which have passed over his head you would 
jump to the conclusion that he is irascible from old age, 
but such is not the case, for he has never been a hail- 
collie-well-met at any period of his life. He does not 
fraternize with the other dogs in the yards, and does 
not make friends with man or beast. Should you at- 
tempt to pat him the sign "hands off" may be read in 
every bristling hair, and if you do not heed it it will 
be emphasized by a growl and snap. Jimmy alone may 
caress him, and only Jimmv's voice will he obey. 
When Jimmy and Harry are not busy they may be found 
at the Exchange Building, Jimmy talking and Harry 
stretched on the floor, his head on his paws and his eyes 
on his master, taking in every expression of his face. 
When the master's face takes on the "on duty" ex- 
pression, Harry springs up, and when Jimmy mounts 
his horse he cavorts around the pony's legs with an 
amount of frisky glee which proves that in his case 
all work and no play has not made Jack a dull boy. 
Harry has no parlor tricks; he can't shake hands, 
nor jump through a hoop nor beg and wouldn't if he 
could but for all-round smartness on cattle we recom- 
mend you to Harry, as grand and intelligent a speci- 
men of the collie breed as ever heeled a bullock into 
line, or headed a flock of sheep. 


THE law of the survival 
of the fittest holds good 
in every kingdom min- 
eral, vegetable, animal. 
What was the fittest a few 
years ago is unfit now, 
THE FOUR-YEAR-OLD. ant j j n accordance with 

this law of shifting necessities we find that within 
our memory the whole gamut of cattle has been run 
through in supplying the larder with beef. Short- 
horns, Holsteins and the Texas steer have each had 
their day to shine, or rather to tickle the palates of 
people and princes. But with the change of conditions 
regulating profits each of these has passed out in turn, 
and now the stock breeder will have none of them. 
Indeed the Texas steer, by inbreeding with successive 
fashionable breeds, is quickly following the tracks of 
the buffalo to complete extinction. 

Not many years ago the ponderous steer bred on the 
western prairies was the best selling beef animal in the 
world. He was wanted by exporters, by butchers, by 
cattle connoisseurs and by gourmands. To be in 
prime condition he must be four years old and weigh 
from 1600 to 2000 pounds. Many fine bunches of 
such steers have been marketed at Chicago, exhibited 
at fat stock shows and then sent across the seas to grace 



the table of my lord, inein herr and monsieur le due. 
But times, conditions and cattle change, and the once 
highly-rated big steer is no longer profitable. 

The demand now is for a younger and fatter animal, 
something through which the porcelain teeth of the 
age can sink without effort. To be highly prized and 
priced this young animal should be two years old, or 
under, should weigh 1000 pounds, must have been fed 
for the market from the day he was calved, and should 
be a Polled Angus or a Hereford (as they dress more) 
to please the buyer. The more blood he has in him of 
these now fashionable breeds and the sooner after birth 
he is in condition to put on the market the better for 
the profits of the breeder. 

The profits of the breeder on this steer are greater than 
on the old style four-year-olds. The two-year-old ma- 
tures sooner, sets fat quicker and the better his blooo 
the quicker he fattens and while he weighs about 
thirty per cent less than his predecessor, his cost per 
pound is much less also. The breeder has the expense 
of his feed and care for only half the time he had his 
predecessor's, one item in cost of raising which more 
than compensates for his lesser weight. It is the breed- 
er's maxim that the quicker an animal can be put in 
condition for the block the greater the proportionate 
profits. Good breeding, careful feeding and early ma- 
turity are very essential to success in cattle breeding. 
It is well for the breeder to remember that competition 
is sharper and prices lower and that economy in those 
items of greatest cost, food and time, should be consid- 
ered in meeting the demands of the market. A steei 


can be fed to a weight of 1000 pounds cheaper than 
one can be fed to a weight of 2000 pounds, and while 
the immediate profit is smaller it will come quicker. 
Again, the profit on two well bred two-year-olds is 
larger than on one of the old style four-year-olds. 

This argument presupposes that the breeder has a 
good animal to start on. Scrubs pay poorly at best, and 
often do not pay at all, to say nothing of those which 
are a clear loss. The price of the coarse grains and feed 
stuffs is low, but to feed it to a poor animal is almost 
like putting salt in a sieve, while to feed it to one of 
good blood is to use ycur five talents to make five other 
talents Beside these considerations the farmer will 
have had the additional great advantage of a supply of 
manure which will bring very tangible profits in in- 
creased crops. 



OPIE READ missed a chance of making another com- 
mon-place scene immortal by never having visited a 
Chicago cow market. Irish blood, brogue and wit are 
as much in evidence there daily as at a polling place 
during a municipal election. The sales made there any 
day in the week would furnish many a diner out with 
stories enough to last- a lifetime; the buyer's distrust, 
the seller's feigned aloofness, the bickering, jabbering 
and dickering, regarding merit,demerit and price, being 
all pages from life's commonplace book. 

A character, which once seen is not soon to be for- 
gotten, is the frequently occurring old woman who 
comes to buy a cow to assist in the family support. 
One minute she pleads with pathetic accents, the next 
she argues vehemently, and again she lifts her voice to 
an Italian opera pitch and scolds shrilly, mercilessly 
scoring the seller and her meek husband, who only 
demonstrates his presence by an occasional wheedling 
word put in when his wife is angriest. Once in a while, 
however, she allows him to haggle over the price while 

she looks on with an expression of anxiety, but she only 



returns to the charge again with renewed energy. Ar- 
gument between the dealers and fun for the bystanders 
flies fast and furious. 

"Thirty dollars, and a big bargain at that," says 
the seller, with the air of one uttering an unalterable 

"Ah, sure now, and that's a deal too much for a 
poor man to pay. Can't yez make it twenty-four?" 
asks the old man wheedlingly. Before the dealer can 
speak the woman breaks in with, "Arrah, now, it's you're 
the fool, and it's meself will buy the cow, indade an' I 
will. Then it's robbery you would be doing to take the 
last cent from a poor woman now." 

"Shure, the cow is worth all Task for it," says the 
dealer, and seeing that he can make no sale, he steps 
close to the old woman and asks, "Have yez a sewer in 
your house?" 

"An' it's a sewer ye say?" 

"It is." 

"No, I have no sewer." 

"Well, then, I can't sell yez the cow, for ye can't 
take all her milk." 

After bargaining with a dealer or two more the couple 
buy a cow for twenty-three dollars. As the woman re- 
luctantly parts with her hard-earned dimes, which evi- 
dently look as big as cartwheels to her, and the hus- 
band is handed the rope to lead the cow away, her face 
takes on a look of supreme contentment, and as the trio 
move away, the man leading the cow, and the old wom- 
an, her skirts tucked up, trudging along behind with 
a big shellala, a picture is seen which will never be 
forgotten, and is worth going miles to see. 


THERE is an ancient 
superstition that the 
(hog is a filthy ani- 
mal, hardly fit for 
food, but I dare 
make the assertion 
that it is only since 
man has become civ- 
ilized that the hog has been degraded and his name em- 
ployed as a synonym for all uncleanliness. Records of 
the hog as a meat producer date back at least 2,500 
years, and in later times hetwas raised and herded in the 
forests of England, from which country nearly all the 
fine breeds are imported. If you urge as argument against 
the hog that the Jews, the oldest race on earth, have 
since time immemorial despised him as too nasty for the 
table, I must remind you that, as Disraeli said, the 
Jews were civilized when the Britons were barbarians 
in the forests of England, and probably King Solomon's 
pig sty was on a par in point of dirt with the sty of our 
day for as I said before, in proportion as man is civ- 
ilized into cleanliness he degrades his swine intofilthi- 

But to come up to the present time. There is no stock 
which has changed so greatly in the last half century 



as the hog, and the change means principally deterio- 
ration. There is no effect without a cause, and it be* 
hooves the breeder to discover what is the reason of this 
deterioration in his swine. Much attention is paid to 
breed and much to feed and that is well, for the ulti- 
matum of the hog is the pork barrel but somewhat 
must be lacking somewhere to account for the change, 
unless, indeed, we are to suppose that the hog is on 
the highroad to extinction. But this last is too hypo- 
thetical a supposition and may be dismissed without 

Looking over the history of the hog for fifty years, 
we shall see a sufficient cause, however, and need look 
no farther. Fifty years ago the hog was accredited 
with as many lives as the cat, and it was a common say- 
ing that you could not kill a hog by abuse. Old breed- 
ers of that period say they have seen them starved to 
skin and bono, torn almost limb from limb by dogs, 
their bones broken and bodies deformed and left in that 
condition to provide for themselves or die. They sel- 
dom died, and a dead hog except in the slaughter pen 
was a rare sight. A journey of three or four days on 
foot was no detriment, and disease was unknown among 
them. Today the life of the hog is less tenacious than 
that of a canary bird. A heedless blow, rough hand- 
ling, a few miles' journey on foot, or a chase of forty 
yards and he will lie down and die. He is so subject 
to disease that many veterinarians make diseases of 
swine their specialty. 

These are the changes in the hog, and to find a plausi- 
ble explanation of them we have only to compare 


the environments of the hog of fifty years ago with 
those of the hog of today. Fifty years ago he was a 
"pioneer hog," sharing pioneer conditions. A sty and 
trough were unknown to him. He found his own food 
and bed; but then he had whole sections of prairie and 
miles of forest in which to do it, he had his choice of 
all the herbage of the plains and all the nuts of the 
forest (it was all "beechnut bacon" in those days), 
and clear fresh water in abundance. He had the unre- 
stricted exercise and invariable health of a nomadic 
life, asking no favors of man and receiving none. In 
short, it was a case of "root, hog, or diel" and he 

What has the hog of today? Instead of limitless 
unfenced prairies and timberland, he is happy if he has 
one acre in common with from ten to one hundred 
others of his kind. There is no chance for grass to 
grow under so many feet, he never tastes herbage, his 
food is .usually corn and swill, while he drinks from 
a pool in which some other hog is wallowing and stir- 
ring up the mud. The air he breathes is impure with 
the odor from excrement' covered ground and he has no 
exercise why should he frisk and sport iu a contracted 
prison in which he is born and which he leaves only 
to be marketed? beside, he is so fat that locomotion is 
uncomfortable, and so when he is not eating he sleeps, 
and consequently is weak, feverish and subject to chol- 
era. Briefly, the hog of today is regarded as a salable 
commodity, and the rule by which he is raised is, "Get 
fat, get fat quick, and the fatter and the quicker the 


Compare the flesh of the pioneer hog with that of 
the modern hog. The lean meat of the former was firm 
and fibrous and equaled or exceeded the fat in quan- 
tity; the fat was solid, without a suggestion of fiab- 
biness, and throughout the body there was plenty of 
muscle; the bone was strong and dense, while the heart 
was well developed and fibrous, forcing the healthy red 
blood through the body with strong, quick beats. The 
fat of the modern hog is far in excess of the lean, and 
is "tender," that is, soft and devoid of fiber; the only 
sinews fouad in him are flabby muscles lying beside 
the spine, in the shoulder and ham; the heart is weak, 
undeveloped, and has not vitality enough to perform 
its functions properly, consequently the animal dies 
upon the least excitement. In fact, the modern hog 
in afflicted with the malady of too much fat, which 
is always a disease, whether in hog or human. 

To be sure, the fibrous flesh of the old style hog is not 
wanted by the gourmand of this age, but his vitality is 
sorely needed, and to combine vitality with tender flesh 
is the desired happy medium. To accomplish this we 
have just one suggestion to offer. It is not our hog 
but our handling which is at fault. Ergo, reform our 
handling. The Berkshires, Chester-Whites, Poland- 
Chinas and Duroc-Jerseys are all right in themselves; 
what they all need is tenacity. To get this give them 
more freedom, a variety of food, especially herbage, and 
if possible let them "hustle" for the latter in a grassy 
field, since prairies cannot be had; and let them always 
have plenty of clear, fresh water. Never feed them on 
sour or putrid food it kills thousands of pigs annually, 


and may with better results be used for fertilizing 
and feed seldom and scantily on new corn, which kills 
more hogs than cholera. Ground barley, oats, wheat, 
corn, peas oilcake meal, clover and rye are all good 
foods for variety. 

I do not offer these suggestions as a panacea for all 
hog ills, for you must remembor that the hog has in- 
herited fifty years of multiplied ills. All I wish to 
impress upon the reader is that he must not make hot- 
house plants of his swine with knee-deep filth for 
soil and they will pay him so well that they may in- 
deed become veritable "mortgage lifters." 


ONE of the most effective hog drivers of the yards 
who has had a steady job for fifteen years, and never 
says a word about a raise, is Old Sandy. Old Sandy not 
only renders valuable aid in driving, but also draws a 


low truck which is used as an ambulance for fat hogs 
which have become injured or exhausted on the way. 
Old Sandy never has any lines in his harness, nor a 
driver, nor does he in the least require either. He 

knows exactly what to do, and he does it. The saga- 



cious horse is owned and employed by an outside pack- 
ing-house, and does service between the yards and his 
firm's establishment. The hogs bought by it must be 
driven to the packing-house from the yards, and this 
is Old Sandy's work. He follows along after the drove 
of hogs. If they stop he stops, and if an animal be- 
comes disabled he backs up the little cart, the animal 
is shifted aboard, and the procession moves on. If a 
street car comes along Sandy gets out of the way with 
his charge. Sometimes boys come about the faithful 
old servitor, and to tease him get into the cart. The 
knowing Sandy stands still in a "this-rock-shall-fly" 
attitude, and budges not a yard till the little torment- 
ors vacate the cart. He knows what constitutes his 
proper load, and he will draw no other. 


THE inspection of meat for export and home use is 
one of the most important features of the business at 
the stockyards. When, pursuant to Elaine's reciprocity 
policy and Jerry Rusk's efforts along the same line, the 


embargo was taken off our meat exports by France and 
Germany in 1890-91, on condition of government in- 
spection before packing, Nelson Morris was the first to 

apply for and obtain a government inspector. His ex- 




ample was quickly followed by every other important 
packer in Chicago. 

This inspection is made by qualified veterinary sur- 
geons appointed by the government, one of whom is in 
charge of each weighing division, while others are sta- 
tioned at the slaughter pens. Here every steer, hog 
and sheep is given a thorough inspection, the healthy 
being separated from the unhealthy stock. Lumpy- 


jawed, emaciated and other diseased cattle are sent to 
the government quarantine pen, from which they are 
taken once a week to a special slaughter house and killed. 
Such of this meat as passes the post-mortem examina- 
tion and is adjudged fit for food by the inspectors is 
placed on the market, and is generally bought by butch- 
ers outside of the yards; while that meat which is con- 
demned is tanked and rendered into grease under the 
eye of the government inspector. In each of the large 



packing-houses is placed a government veterinary in- 
spector and his assistant, and the cattle are reinspected 

All hog products for foreign trade are even more care- 
full}' examined, if that is possible, hogs being more 
liable to bacterial diseases and trichinosis than cattle. 
Every piece of pork undergoes a microscopic examina- 


tion and is then stamped and sealed with the govern- 
ment seal. This microscopic work is done by women, 
and theirs is one of the most unique departments at 
the yards. The women who fill these positions are 
selected for their thorough education, intelligence and 
good health, the latter requirement applying particu- 
larly to the eyes. To secure a position here such an 
amount of official red tape must be unwound as would 
vanquish the patience of all but the most plucky and 



clever of women, and as a result their claim to intelli- 
gence is backed up by official affidavits, educational 
diplomas and certificates from physicians and oculists 
ad infinitum. 

At the gates of the stockyards are stationed other 
competent veterinarians, whose duty it is to see that no 
dead or diseased animals pass in the wagons contain- 
ing crippled stock. These men have authority to con- 
demn the cripples, but cannot order them to be de- 
stroyed. The watchers are on the alert, and when a 
load of disabled beasts comes along they prod them 
with a sharp pointed pole to ascertain whether they 
have a healthy squeal. The animals are then tagged 
and recorded, and are allowed to pass to the private 
slaughtering houses outside the yards. At these places 
are stationed inspectors by the city authorities, and it 
is left to them, principally, to judge whether the meat 
turned out here is fit for an alderman's table. 



EVERY one around ":he stockyards district knows him. 
For many years he has been the faithful purveyor-in- 
ordinary to all who desired to acquire the indispensable 
jack-knife, and had the equivalent in coin of the realm 


to exchange therefor Like the hand of the dyer, as- 
similating in color the material wherein it works, the 
name of this peripatetic merchant has taken on a 
trsenomen identifying and describing the vocation 
of its owner, and "-Jack-knife Ben" is a person of much 
easier identification by most of his acquaintances than 
he would be should any one ignorantly or inadvertently 
speak of him as "Mr. Benjamin Chew." Indeed, it 



may be seriously doubted if Jack-knife Ben would know 
who was addressed should he be apostrophized as Mr. 
Chew, or spoken to in any other way than as "Jack- 
knife," or (when the speaker was more than usually 
confidential) as plain Ben. 

Besides being well known he is very popular with 
those with whom he conies in constant contact, despite 
the fact that the proverbial wooden nutmeg Yankee at 
his best is no more than a match for him when it comes 
down to a deal in knives. But there is such an air of 
shrewd and cheerful humor in everything that Ben does 
that one lets himself be persuaded, even against positive 
knowledge, that in the case of his wares the highly pol- 
ished blades are equal in temper and cutting capacity 
to the finest products of the steel works of Damascus. 

Ben is a man of resources. For ways that are dark 
the heathen Chinee has long carried the banner, but 
when it comes to tricks that are not vain or void of 
results, which means the same thing Ben is entitled 
to the first seat in the "amen" corner. Like St Paul, 
he is all things to all men that he may sell knives. 
All languages and all systems of philosophy, religion 
and civilization are made subservient to his calling in 
life the distribution of jack-knives among the way- 
farers and sojourners of Packingtown. If his customer 
betrays the sweet German accent, Ben at once assumes 
the deep, absorbed look of the metaphysician, and his 
voice takes on a reverberatory, guttural sound like the 
muttering of distant thunder on a hot midsummer after- 
noon, and the impressive manner in which he answers 
"Jal" to interrogatories, regardless of the relevancy of 


the question and answer, would win its way to the soul 
of the most ultra German who ever trod in leather. 
And when after this edifying dialogue has continued 
for some minutes and Ben hears the one all-important 
word "preis," uttered by his questioner, he brings to 
his aid his utmost linguistic resources and answers, 
"Ein viertel Thaler," the sale is always closed then 
and there. Ben adds another quarter to his already 
large hoard, while the Teuton goes away with a knife. 

But how the scene changes if the prospective pur- 
chaser happens to be an Irishman! No sooner is the 
Milesian seen bearing down toward Ben's coign of van- 
tage than that redoubtable worthy pulls a face in which 
can plainly be seen unmistakable delineations of the 
four provinces of Ireland, and to such a fine point has 
Ben extended the exercise of his acumen that he can, 
at a great way off, distinguish what manner of country- 
man it is who approaches, and those who listen may at 
various times have the inestimable privilege of hearing 
conversations anent the merits of different grades 
and makes of cutlery carried on in the respective dia- 
lects and brogues of Ulster, Munster, Leinster and Con- 
naught. And as one listens he becomes more than firmly 
convinced that a great actor has been lost to the 
boards; or else he goes away with a settled conviction 
in his mind that there is more than a hearsay knowl- 
edge of the Emerald Isle in Ben's mental make-up. 

In more cases than one has Ben received warm fra- 
ternal hand-clasps from homesick fresh imports from 
the "ould sod," and the remarkable feature of these 
affairs is that all of these strangers who were so glad to 


see an imagined former near neighbor in the person of 
Ben came from widely separated portions of the island. 
The inference is plain: Either Ben was born and has 
lived in more places than are imputed even to the poet 
Homer, or else he has almost unlimited power of adap- 
tation and mimicry to meet the exigencies of the hour. 
But if he should go so far as to claim the gift of ubiquity, 
there are those among his admirers who would back 
him ten to one that he could prove his birth at a given 
time in any number of different places Indeed, so ex- 
pansive is his personality that it might upon a pinch 
be believed that he was born all over the earth, and did 
not confine the ceremony of his incarnation to any one 
particular locality. 

Now when it comes down to serious business and you 
desire the real thing, Jack-knife Ben can accommodate 
you, particularly if you really know a good piece of 
metal when you see it, and discover at the same time 
that you have the price. He can fit you out with as 
good an article as you can get anywhere, but the sucker 
who makes a play at Ben, and has not the necessary 
equipment of knowledge with which to back up his 
bluff, is an abomination to Ben. But put Ben on his 
honor, pay him a fair price and you will get fair treat- 
ment; but don't "play horse" with him, or he will 
beat you every time. 

Necessarily, from the constant stream of visitors to 
the stockyards some on business errands, others merely 
gratifying curiosity to see the great shambles of the 
Northwest Ben is known by people all over the world. 
He is a fixture at the yards, being, as it were, a feature 


of the ensemble without which the picture would be in- 
complete, and among all who know him the generally 
expressed wish is, "May his shadow never grow less, 
and may the blade of Father Time be as powerless 
against him as are some of his common blades against 
a piece of black gum-wood." 


MANY of the live stock commission men at the stock- 
yards engage buyers to select stock to fill their orders, 
either for home or foreign consumption. These buyers 
are paid salaries ranging from $2,000 to $35,000 
annually. The average salary is about $3,000, and is 
earned by men of ability, men who seldom make a mis- 
take in their purchases, in short, "talented buyers." 
.Those who draw $15,000 annually are men who never 
make a mistake, who can tell at a glance to within five 
pounds what a steer will dress and the quality of his 
beef, can sit on a fence and judge of a penful of cattle, 
keeps posted on eastern and foreign markets as well as 
on the hide market, and knows, by some occult intui- 
tion, when to get into the market and when to get out. 
In brief, the difference between such a buyer and the 
one who earns $8,000 a year is the difference between 
genius and talent. 

But whatever the salary or the ability, these buyers 
are important factors in the "altogether" of the life 
at the stockyards, and it will be a sorry day for the 
yards when some over-clever inventor invents an auto- 
matic cattle buyer. 



THE stockyards is the most economical place on earth. 
Nothing is lost there except the squeal of the hog and 
a patent is pending for bottling that. 

Americans have the name of being extravagant, and of 
prodigally wasting their bounteous resources, but the 
Union Stockyards is one place where this charge would 
not hold good, for here no willful waste will ever make 
woful want while the present system of utilizing every 
ounce of material is followed. From the tips of the 
long tossing horns of the Texas steer to the end of his 
tail nothing is lost; hide, hair, hoofs, in short, the 
"altogether" is utilized, each portion finding its des- 
tined end and way, and thus parts of the same animal 
may eventually be scattered to the four quarters of the 

If the fashionable ladies whose names figure in the 
elite Blue Bo 3k, and also lesser members of society, 
could trace backward to their first estate the delicate so- 
called tortoise shell combs now so popular, perhaps the 
present high prices would not rule except upon affidavit 
of an expert that the material was the genuine "stuff." 
In life poor old Brindle's horns were never in the least 
ornamental, but after she passes under the executioner's 



mallet at the stockyards parts of those same curved 
weapons of defense become touched to the "fine issues" 
of a lady's adorning, besides the many baser uses 
enterprising manufacturers find for them. 

The tips of the horns are made into bone ware, combs 
and various other things. The hollow parts go through 
a steaming process whereby they are rolled out flat and 
then made into combs and ornamental bone work, even 
into a very fine imitation of tortoise sheli, the necessary 
shading and coloring being arrived at by the use of acid. 
The horns sell for $225 per ton. 

From the head the brain is removed, one man being 
kept busy splitting the skulls with an axe and so ex- 
pert is he that the axe never touches the brain an- 
other man taking out the brain, which then comes to 
our table as a delicacy; the meat of the cheeks is 
taken off and used for canning, and the tongue is pick- 
led and sold either fresh or canned, while the bones are 
then broken up and by a trying-out process become 
transformed into neat's-foot oil. 

The uses of the hides in the common purposes for 
leather is well known, but they are also used, after be- 
ing softened, and fancy figures stamped upon them, for 
the purposes of expensive upholstering and in the mak- 
ing of coats, taking the place of the old-time buffalo 

The carcass, of course, is claimed by the local butcher 
or sent to Europe by cold storage; also to parts of the 
United States where meat supplies are inadequate 
often, strange to say, going back almost to the very 
ranger who shipped it hither as live stock. 


The shank bone, cut above the ankle and below the 
knee, making a piece seven to eight inches long, is sent 
to the New England and Massachusetts factories to be 
made into knife handles for the cheaper grades of cut- 
lery. Out of the ankle and knee bones every particle 
of fat is taken, and the bones then go to Germany for 
use in sugar refining. These bones are also used in man- 
ufacturing fiber for use in connection with electrical 

The hoofs are simply worked up into glue Of the 
tails the number is so large that they cannot all be 
consumed in Chicago, and they are therefore largely 
exported for use in the making of ox-tail soup. 

The intestines some of which, the round and mid- 
dle guts, make a casing 125 feet in length are made into 
long cases for large bologna sausages. The stomach 
goes for headcheese, the livers for free lunch or are 
made into liver sausages. 

A percentage of the blood is used for blood sausage; 
also for a coloring matter for dark colored headcheese. 
A portion also goes through a crystallizing process and 
is used in the manufacture of buttons. 

The remainder of the animal, the refuse, bones, 
scraps, odds and ends, are all put into a common mass, 
dried, ground and sold as bone dust and fertilizing 

All of the undigested contents of the stomach of the 
animal when killed are dried and burnt as fuel in the 
furnaces, there being, wonderful to say, enough of this 
strange sort of fuel furnished to keep the furnaces go- 


The hot water with which the benches and floors of 
the slaughter houses are scrubbed is carried off by sew- 
ers into a catch-basin, the surface is then skimmed and 
the fat thus obtained is converted into axle-grease. 

The accumulation of ashes in the smoke houses, left 
from the wood burnt in preparing smoked meats, is 
saved for fruit growers and is sold in barrels at a rate 
of about ten dollars per ton. 

The western and lighter native cattle are canned, the 
bones are put into a vat and all fatty matter extracted, 
and the clear fat becomes tallow. From the delicate 
marrow taken from the shank bone is made the com- 
mercial pomades and mustache dressings. 

It is not so long ago that the problem of how to dis- 
pose of the offal resulting from the slaughter of cattle 
and hogs was one which tried the Chicago packers sorely. 
The quantity of it was so enormous, the worthless- 
ness of it so seemingly obvious, that merely how to get 
rid of it at the least expense was a daily recurring ques- 
tion. Offal was the bugbear of the packing business. 
In those early days the value of offal as a fertilizer was 
not known to the packers; the blood was allowed to run 
into the river, the heads, feet, tankage and general 
refuse was usually hauled out on the prairies and buried 
in trenches. 

But there were some even then who appreciated the 
value of this waste product, and these few were the 
ghouls of the refuse burial grounds, digging up and 
hauling the ill-smelling matter to their small factories 
and converting it into glue, tallow, oil and fertilizer. 
Seeing this use of it, the packers willingly offered the 


offal to any one who would cart it away without charge. 
As a result of this liberality a new industry was born, 
small glue and fertilizer factories springing up like 
mushrooms in the vicinity of Ashland Avenue and 
Thirty-ninth Street; the fertilizer being shipped to the 
East, which alone afforded a market for it. The bone 
tankage turned out by these factories was a fairly good 
product of its kind, and was particularly in demand by 
farmers as a fertilizer for winter wheat. The regular 
fertilizer, however, was high in moisture and in poor 
mechanical condition. 

However, the cheapness of the material, which cost 
only the trouble of hauling it from the packing-houses, 
the inexpensive process of manufacture, a crude wooden 
trip hammer only being used to crush the bone tankage, 
and the comparatively high price set upon the finished 
product,made the manufacture of fertilizer so profitable 
a business that the manufacturers soon became violent 
competitors.and began to bid hotly for the offal. Up to 
this time the manufacturers had accumulated snug for- 
tunes out of the business of getting something for prac- 
tically nothing, but now a money value was being set 
upon the packing-house refuse, and the packers even 
considered seriously the pros and cons of engaging in 
the manufacture of fertilizer themselves, although they 
were now turning a pretty penny by the sale of the 

About 1877 a home-made direct heat drier was per- 
fected, and with the aid of this device one of the larger 
and more progressive packers went into the manufac- 
ture of fertilizer in earnest. As a result he, and those 



who afterward followed his example, were able to sell 
their beef and pork at closer margins, thus tempting 
larger purchases. Larger sales meant a more rapid de- 
velopment of his business in advance of his less pro- 
gressive fellow packers. Indeed, this was one of the 
moves to which is largely due the greatness of Chi- 
cago as a provision and dressed beef market. For 
economy is one of the first laws of nature, and where 
economy is practiced in little things there may compe- 
tition be defied, an axiom which has been proved by the 
Chicago packers, who, by utilizing the offal which 
other packers wasted, were enabled to undersell their 
competitors and still realize larger profits. And this is 
a fact which should carry a moral to spendthrifts. 



THE Union Stockyards is, perhaps, about the last 
place where one with a fancy for romance would expect 
to find any food for such a taste, or a chapter from a 
stage melodrama where the long missing brother with 
the strawberry mark on his arm turns up in the nick of 
time to defeat the schemes of the grasping uncle who 
plans to seize upon the inheritance on supposition of 
the death of the rightful heir. Or, again, the last place 
where on finding in the stomach of a fish the mysteri- 
ously lost other half of the amulet which the parting 
lovers had divided between them, the wondering swain is 
convinced that his Lucinda had indeed lost the trinket 
while boating instead of giving it to his rival, as some 
perfidious lago has hinted, and goes home straightway 
to his duckalinda, and they "live happily ever after." 

But though this is the last place to look for romance, 
arid a Texas steer the last medium for its conveyance, 
yet something quite as strange and out of the common 
as this actually came to pass at this very prosaic pi ace, 
and if no faithful swain and sweetheart had their fond 
hearts reunited it was more because the owners of the 
amulet were already happily married than from an}' 
failure to connect on the part of the strange incident 
itself. The elements of romance and melodrama were 
all there, right enough. 



The incident is simply that, not many months ago, 
there was found, embedded in the intestine of a Texas 
steer, a gold medal engraved "Miss Ida Work, Dallas, 
Texas." The medal was in the shape of a Maltese cross, 
and, as discovered when the owner was found, had been 
given her on graduating from school in a convent in 
Mexico, and had been missing seven years. When, upon 
a chance of finding her, the original of the address was 
written to, it was learned that she had been some years 
married and is the mother of several children. The 
medal was sent to her, and no doubt the owner was 
overjoyed to regain her lost treasure. 




IF there is one thing more than another which is now 
agitating the farmers and small breeders of the coun- 
try, it is horse breeding. How and what to breed ad 
whether breeding pays are the questions of the hour, 
questions which apparently have more than the pro- 
verbial nine lives of the cat, and will neither be downed 
nor answered to popular satisfaction. 

Very recently the opinion prevailed that the horse in- 
dustry was on the highroad to extinguishment from 
neglect, but this idea has been abated by the revival of 
common sense, which proves to us that while human 
beings inhabit the globe the love of God's noblest ani- 
mal, the horse, will continue to demonstrate itself in 

efforts for his improvement. Fashionable horse shows 



are frequeut all over the country, extraordinary induce- 
ments in prizes being offered for fine animals, and I 
see in this and other facts signs of increasing interest 
in the horse beautiful, with an attendant interest in 

I have no intention of antagonizing the views of the 
great majority of those interested in this subject. 
Any one who will make a study of the question will 
discover that the theories advanced in opposition to 
breeding are based on false premises. The only shade 
of truth in the argument is that the number of horses 
used in cities has been somewhat lessened by the in- 
crease of trolley and cable transit. But the growth of 
cities,with its attendant demand for heavy draft horses, 
the increasing number of the rich with expensive par- 
tialities for stylish horses, together with a European 
trade, which I shall mention later, more than compen- 
sate for the few horses displaced by mechanical means 
of transit. 

While there may be differences of opinion regarding 
some phases of the horse industry, all agree that but 
few colts are being produced. Authentic reports de- 
clare that there are almost no suckling colts and very 
few yearlings in the country. The best mares are also 
rapidly disappearing, especially the fine, stylish mares 
of the carriage type and the large draft mares, although 
both kinds bring prices which will yield the breeder 
better profits than most of the products of the farm. 
Buyers are today searching the country for good horses 
of all kinds, and offering fully thirty per cent better 
prices than were offered six months ago. Another im- 


portant factor to be seriously considered is the foreign 
demand for American horses, which is increasing at a 
phenomenal rate, shiploads of American horses being 
transported weekly. England, Germany, France, Ire- 
land, Scotland, Belgium, and in fact all Europe con- 
cedes that America can raise better horses for less money 
than any other country in the world, and Europe may 


be depended upon to take all our surplus stock in the 
future at fair prices. 

There is, however, a rational explanation of the 
breeder's present timidity and the farmer's indifference 
to breeding. For during the seven years preceding 1892 
there was an overproduction of horses, the government 
report showing an increase of 2,150,000 in the United 
States for the years 1891-92. The explanation of this 


overproduction lies in the increase of the export trade, 
farmers and breeders fancying that a large demand for 
horses meant an unlimited demand for any manner of 
beast, by courtesy called ahorse, which they could pro- 
duce, and as a consequence such horses became a drug 
on the market Then the reaction came, and the farmers 
who had on hand this white elephant of horseflesh, 
which was in style neither fish, flesh nor fowl and sup- 
plied no existing demand, sold for anything they could 
get; and going to the other extreme of fancying that 
the horse industry was dead, sold even their brood 

So prevalent has this idea become that during the 
last three years only forty per cent of the mares were 
bred, resulting in a decrease, according to last year's 
horse census, of 215,000 head. And now the universal 
cry of the dealer is, "Where shall we get horses?" 
Sight has been entirely lost of the fact that it was not 
the market hut the horse which was poor. Among so 
many bad horses there were, of course, many good ones, 
and for these there was and is a ready sale. 

A visit to the great live stock markets of the world, 
Chicago in particular, would be of inestimable benefit 
to breeders and farmers by convincing them that the 
supply of horses does not equal the demand. In Chi- 
cago are twelve large firms which control the sale of 
100,000 horses annually. The heads of these firms are 
unanimous in the conviction that there are only two 
kinds of horses worth breeding. Of these the stylish 
coach horse, they will convince the breeder, has never 
equaled the demand, while of the well formed, heavy- 


weight draft horse the supply is also incredibly short. 
There is another reaction impending, however, one 
which will turn in favor of breeding good stock, and 
we may expect to see gradually established a normal 
relation between supply and demand. In the mean- 
time, as a horse cannot be created in a minute, there is 


a "horse drought" in sight, which will inevitably in- 
crease in aggravation until several crops of yet un- 
foaled colts shall have grown to maturity. Therefore 
there can be no better time to begin to breed than now, 
at the very commencement of the scarcity, when prices 
are mounting higher and higher. The farmer who 
takes this hint will do so to his lasting advantage, for 
it is unlikely in this enterprising age that such a dearth 
of horses will occur twice in a man's lifetime. 


Like an army in battle, which must have recruits or 
stop fighting, so we must reinforce the stock or get off 
our pedestal as a fine-horse producing country, and so 
Jose the profits of the industry. All we have now to 
depend upon to do this is the short crop of colts from 
a limited number of mares bred the last few seasons. 

Like produces like, or the likeness of some ancestor. 
The scrub horse will produce the scrub horse, and the 
scrub farmer will have the scrub stock that will lose 
him money, while the progressive farmer will produce 
the prize winners which will prove both a source of 
great pride and of profit. It costs no more to raise a good 
horse than a poor one; one eats as much as the other. 
I have no axe to grind and no particular man's stock 
to advertise. I give an unbiased opinion without fear 
or favor, and what I advise the farmer to do is this: 
Cross a big, bony, thoroughbred running horse with 
straight action with a round, smooth-turned Norman, 
Percheron or other large mare with good action, which 
the two former invariably have. The mare will give 
size and action and the stallion symmetry, activity and 
staying quality, thus forming a foundation of fine 
brood mares of which the country is now sadly in 
need. The produce will be half-bred hunters and 
saddle horses, which are in great demand, and car- 
riage horses fit for home and export trade. Pairs of 
such horses as this breed can pull a plow or draw a car- 
riage, and will find a ready sale at a minute's notice at 
from $500 to $1,000. The breed may be still further 
improved by taking the progeny from this cross and 
breeding it to carefully selected thoroughbred trotting, 



coach horses or hackneys that are bred in the purple. 
But the stallion must in no event be a half-bred cur. 

By following my suggestions the farmer, when he 
drives to town with a pair of such horses, will have so 
many offers for them that he will likely exclaim, "Thank 


God! at last I've produced something for which the 
buyers follow me around and ask, 'Smith, what'll you 
take for them?'" I am talking from experience, and 
when I say that the thoroughbred is not nearly so much 
appreciated by the average breeder as he should be, 


and that the thoroughbred alone can impart the desira- 
ble finish to a coach or other horse, I know whereof I 

There is another horse to which we must pay some 
attention. That is the draft horse proper. The draft 
horse requires the same forethought to produce him 
that the coach horse does, for while the latter must be 
showy the former must be herculean in strength, and 
neither quality is bred by chance. To get a draft horse, 
breed a Percheron stallion to a Norman or even a Clydes- 
dale mare. Do not make the irreparable mistake of 
trying to breed draft horses from nondescript stock, 
even if it is good, sound and of medium weight, say 
from 1300 to 1500 pounds, and even if you usa a big 
draft stallion. The stallion cannot counterbalance in 
the progeny the mare's lack of weight, and the result 
will be that bugbear of the breeder a horse which is 
not what it was purposed to be, and consequently more 
likely than not is unfitted for any purpose. In breed- 
ing for draft horses remember that the weight of the 
draft horse is increasing, arid that while a 1300 to 1500 
pound animal would pass for such a few years ago it 
will do so no longer, 1600 pounds being the very 
lightest weight desirable." 

The general purpose horse is still another animal 
which may be noticed in passing. No suggestions are 
necessary for its breeding, the stock takes care of itself, 
and is constantly replenished by inbreeding. 

Haphazard breeding is the order of the day among 
farmers. Too often they breed without a purpose, not 
caring what is crossed with what, so that the result is 


a colt which can be marketed. The average farmer is, 
above all others, the man who must market his produce, 
whether it be stock or grain, at a good price in order 
to make both ends meet, to say nothing of "making 
farming pay." And yet he persistently neglects to 


take the one step which will bring him good prices. 
It is only by repeated admonitions, urging and prod- 
ding that he will ever be induced to take forethought 
enough to control by proper breeding the quality of the 
stock he markets. And not until he does this will he 
make breeding pay 


A thoroughbred stallion, it may be argued, is an ex- 
pensive article, and cannot be afforded by the average 
farmer. The solution of this difficulty is simple. 
What one farmer cannot afford two, three, or, if neces- 
sary, a dozen can afford easily, and would this number 
of farmers form a syndicate and purchase a thorough- 
bred running stallion they would soon find themselves 
reimbursed for the outlay by the higher prices brought 
by their young stock. Could the national Government 
be induced to purchase thoroughbred stallions and place 
them in the different breeding sections of the country, 
charging the farmers a very nominal price for their 
services, it would result in a dissemination of good 
blood, in better prices for stock, and in hitherto un- 
known prosperity for the breeders and farmers. 

I have spent the better part of ray life in Canada, 
where the Government gives a little valuable attention 
to the breeding of horses, and beside have inherited a 
love for a drop of blood, and have in much traveling 
seen its results. Canada has the reputation, and de- 
servedly too, of breeding the hardiest, toughest, best- 
selling saddle and carriage horses on the American 
continent. There is where you can see a farmer driv- 
ing a pair of big sixteen-hand half-bred horses in and 
out of town forty miles, their heads and tails up all 
the way,and their big sinews playing like the piston rods 
of a ten-horse engine. In too many states if the farmer 
drives to and from town a few miles his common-bred 
curs loll up against the fence on the way home to keep 
from falling over. 

In conclusion I will say that I am not afraid that 


the horseless age is upon us, the bicycle fiend to the 
contrary notwithstanding, Does the bicycle enjoy a 
lump of sugar from your hand? Can it toss its head 
and whinny a joyous greeting as it hears your voice, 
or carry you like a bird on the wing over a five-bar gate? 
Do you fancy that inanimate cobweb of rods and wheels 


from the machinist's will ever take the place of my feel- 
ing, thinking, loving companion from Barbary? Not 
while the bicycle remains blind to your actions of kind- 
ness and dumb to the sound of your voice, nor while 
the horse is the delightful company he is, whether 
in the stable, under the saddle or in the harness I Cer- 
tain it is that as far back into' the ages as we can trace 



his association with human beings, the horse appears as 
the friend and intimate companion of man. He 
steps down the ages decked with the flowers and wreaths 
of love, poetry, romance and chivalry no less than with 
the stern trappings of heroism and war. "Man's in- 
humanity to man" and beast is justly lamented, but so 


associated with the sentiment and necessities of man is 
the horse that bicycles, tricycles and motocycles com- 
bined will be powerless to displace him. Imagine the 
gallant General Miles astride a bicycle cheering his 
troops to victory with a sword in one hand and pump- 
ing his tires for dear life with the other! 

You may depend upon it, good horses, and especially 
good coach and saddle horses, will always be in demand. 


The dealers say, "It is not a question of money now. 
It is a question of horses. If we can get what our cus- 
tomers want in the way of carriage horses, they do not 
want to know the price, and will pay the bill without 
a question." 

If the result of this article is to create even an iota 
of interest among the breeders, I shall feel amply com- 
pensated for having written it. And as the old ranch- 
man said as a warning not to harbor his runaway wife, 
U A word to the wise is sufficient, and ought to work 
on fools." 



HE is one of the familiar figures at the stockyards. 
Day in and day out, during weeks which grew into 
months, and months which have grown into years,he has 
stood near the fire-engine house pursuing his vocation 
of braiding and plaiting leather lariats, watch chains 
and bridles. You may think it a small business, but 
that is a mistake, for many times a single article brings 
as much as seventy-five dollars to Bill's swelling coffers. 
Beside being an artist in his line he is also its champion, 
plaiting in sixty-two different and distinct styles; 
hence his name. On his last visit to Chicago Sir Henry 
Irving, no greater an artist in his profession than Bill 
is in his, purchased one of Bill's famous bridles. 

Bridle Bill's real name is W. T. Davidson, and his 



birthplace is Upton County, Texas. He is of a ro- 
mautic and adventurous nature, and many a time has 
he traveled over the old Chisholm trail during the 
stormy days of 1869, forming one of the protecting 
guard usually accompanying emigrants going from 
Texas to Kansas. A 999 page book would barely hold 
all Bill's adventures with the then numerous Sioux, 
Gomanches, marauders and horse thieves. 

But while Bill's eyes were never closed to the least 
signs which heralded the coming of a band of savages, 
or his ears deaf to the stealthy sound of a creeping foe, 
his eyes and ears were also open to the beautiful colors 
and forms and sweet sounds of the stream-kissed 
mountains and sun-burned plains of his wild surround- 
ings. And should you care, one of these bright spring 
days, to run out to the yards, and chance to catch Bill in 
an idle moment, he will tell you a blood-curdling story 
of adventure dressed up with many touches of vivid 
scenic description which prove him to be a romancist as 
well as a graphic narrator. For while Bill is now a 
steady-going citizen of Chicago, you have only to say In- 
dian to him and his eyes blaze at once as when you cry 
rat to an English fox terrier, and his tongue seconds his 
memory in recalling the many redskins who sleep in 
the happy hunting grounds because of his unerring 
aim, and in relating the experiences of wanderings which 
carried him from coast to coast and from Canada to the 
Gulf. And should his mood be a particularly commu- 
nicative one his narrations would equal the stories of 
Jack Shepard and the imaginings of Mark Twain. 


IN Europe, and of late in New York City, the business 
of horse dealing has become as honorable, reputable 
and responsible as that of a merchant, grocer, or 
'coal-baron." It is largely engaged in by gentlemen 
who have an inbred Jove of the horse from boyhood, 
and frequently by those of wealth and leisure. 

In other places these dealers have their establishments 
where orders are received in person or by mail, and are 
filled as are similar orders for household supplies, etc. 

A buyer orders a horse as he would a suit of clothes, 
trusting to the skill, knowledge and honor of his dealer 
to supply him with the proper article for a certain use, 
just as when he orders a dress coat. In the morning 
mail will be a letter: "Mr. Blank: Please send me a 
family horse; 1 ' or "Mr. Blank: I require a pair of car- 
riage horses (mention ing perhaps some preferred color), 
at a price not exceeding $ ," etc. 

But in the western part of this country this business 
seems to have been one which all manner of sharpers, 
sharks and ignorant knaves have considered a peculiarly 
inviting field for their shady talents. So much has this 
been the case that the occupation itself has become 
somewhat out of favor. And this is not wholly to be 
wondered at, for, truly speaking, a large majority of 
the so-called horse-dealers whom the writer has seen 



round town, know about as much about a horse as a 
horse knows about them (perhaps less), or as a dog 
knows about his mother. And they would be better en- 
gaged bucking wood, as they only bring contempt upoii 
what is a very respectable and deserving profession if 
properly practiced, and one which can be conducted 
on the same business principles as any other calling. 

At the Union Stockyards, indeed, there are reputable 
and responsible dealers, and the very best horses that 
have been winning ribbons at the horse shows have 
passed through their hands. But these men are old es- 
tablished dealers in their line and have a place of busi- 
ness. Nor is it a peripatetic one, the dealer going about 
peddling horses in the streets downtown. No one can 
properly serve patrons in that way, and those who wish 
to buy can be better served and save money by giving 
an order, setting the price they want to pay, as in buy- 
ing a carriage, set of harness or other merchandise. 

It is best to buy direct through the commission men 
in preference to shippers who come in, as the latter are 
only anxious to make sales and get home, while the 
commission men, on the other hand, have their reputa- 
tion to keep up, and take a much more personal inter- 
est. They are all responsible, being under a bond of 
$20,000 to the stockyards company, and all disputes, if 
any, are settled by an arbitration board. There is also 
a number of bright salesmen attached to every commis- 
sion house at the yards who keep their eyes open for the 
"good ones." These facts, considered with the number 
of horses from which to choose at the yards, make it 
the best policy to place orders in the way described, for 


carriage and saddle horses the same as for draft horses. 
The draft horse business is all done in this way. 

How can you expect a gentleman and genuine busi- 
ness man to peddle his wares up back alleys to show 
them? Surely a dignified traffic like horse dealing is 
above the level of peanut vending! A good horse is 
always worth money and a little extra trouble to get 
him* and an order placed with a reliable dealer will 
insure his being furnished with an exactness equal to 
that of dealings in any other line. Another thing; it is 
well to place orders in advance, as this gives stock time 
to acclimate, and in many ways is of advantage to both 
buyer and dealer. 

It is true that in some cities and places the business 
of horse-dealing is at a rather low ebb, and is carried 
on by persons not too wise or scrupulous, but the class 
I have been speaking of are the equals of the same class 
in any other lines, who have a sense of business honor. 
If this profession were put, in general, upon the same 
basis as other kinds of business it would be found 
that, as a rule, a much better class of men would en- 
gage in it. -Already, as heretofore stated, a nucleus is 
formed at the stockyards, composed of as honorable, 
able and reliable a set of men as can be found in any 
business anywhere. 

Where do you find a horse-dealer failing in business? 
Yet again, where is there a class of men who have 
their anxiety and receive so little profit for their trouble? 
My readers, there are sharks in all businesses, but I 
have found fewer such in the horse business than in 
other commercial lines. To illustrate: When travel- 


ing commercially I have known representatives of repu- 
table houses selling German silver-plated goods marked 
"Sterling.' 1 I have seen men selling cloth made in this 
country for imported goods, etc. 

Men of the former stamp have a wholesome respect for 
their reputation and are not dealing in horses today 
and trading in something else tomorrow, and they have 
a knowledge of their business which is gratifying. The 
writer's experience includes some very amusing ones 
with so-called "dealers," a number of whom would be 
much better at work on a farm or behind a plow. Any 
man can tell you with "half an eye" when a horse is 
nice-looking, but there are few to find or tell you his 
defects. I have been lugged round by numbers of these 
wiseacres to see knee-actors! but, my friends and read- 
ers, I have bought knee-actors from these same men 
years back who sold them to me cheap because, they 
said, they were stone-pounders. I used to buy "stone- 
pounders" till they got on to the game. 

In conclusion: What is an "expert" buyer? The an- 
swer to this is, there are few men amongst dealers, farm- 
ers and breeders who can thoroughly examine horses. 
It is a gift. Such men are rare as poets, and, like the 
latter, are "born and not made." The faculty is one 
which may be improved by cultivation and experience, 
but unless it is in a man no amount of effort can bring 
it out. 

Said a mushroom millionaire when told that his 
daughter at boarding-school lacked "capacity" "Wai, 
I got plenty of money; kain'tyou buy her one?" Alasl 
for his thick-witted offspring, his wealth could not help 



her here. And so it is with the capacity of which we 
are speaking. It can be neither acquired nor bought 
though many dealers bank upon purchasing this rare 
quality, and find themselves wofully mistaken [when 
their dubious knowledge is put to the test in a trade. 
The touchstone of the true horse judge is not and never 
can be theirs. 



HERETOFORE boys have not figured very largely in 
"grown-up" literature, though "Gallagher" made 
something of a reputation for himself when introduced 
to an admiring public a few years ago. But the boy 
who is the subject of this necessarily short sketch could 
give Gallagher cards and spades on enterprise, breeding, 
intelligence, gentlemanliness, and yet win the game. 
Everybody knows Willie at the stockyards, and Willie 
knows everybody; everybody likes Willie and Willie 
likes everybody. 

Willie is the Western Union Telegraph messenger at 



the yards. He has been at that post of duty for about 
five years, and to all who know him it will not seem ex- 
aggeration to say that he has scarcely an equal and no 
superior in his line. He has a wonderful memory 
never forgets a face or a name and has an intuition 
little short of marvelous which enables him to smell 
people out whom he wants in a crowd. He dodges in 
and out among the people till he finds the one he is 
after; he is always on the run, and one would suppose 
each message he delivers to be a matter of life and death 
from the way he presses on till the right person is found. 
No grass ever grows under those flying feet, and as his 
bright, handsome face and merry eyes flash past, and 
his voice chimes out a courteous "Good morning, sir," 
he seems to be a sort of typical nineteenth-century 
Mercury minus the wings and the caduceus. 

Willie is a true-blue, "straight" kind of boy,and you 
can rely on him. He is a little gentleman, eschews 
cigarette smoking and such harmful indulgences, and 
has already considerable money "to windward." He 
is also something of a wit in his way and, like all boys, 
enjoys a roguish prank now and then. He is often left 
in charge of the office while the manager goes to lunch, 
and on one such occasion an old man came in to send 
a telegram. He asked Willie how the messages were 
sent, and being told they went along the wire, expressed 
a desire to see them go. For a joke Willie told him to 
"hurry out and he would see one going." The old man 
rushed out in a forthwith manner to see the sight, but 
alas for his rustic hopes, nothing was to be seen! And 
the only consolation he got from Willie was that he 
didn't go quick enough. 


Another time when Willie was upholding the man- 
agerial dignity, a would-be "fly "countryman, in town 
with a carload of stock, larruped into the telegraph 
office and started in to have some fun with the "kid." 
Now, if there is anything which affronts Willie's sense 
of the fitness of things it is to be dubbed "kid" or 
called u Bub, " and both of these offenses did the Jon- 
athan commit till Willie's patience ran low. The fel- 
low had, moreover, an untidy appearance and an 
unwholesome odor about his clothing which completed 
the boy's disgust. 

After asking twenty "smart Alec" questions about 
the whole office, he finally settled into, "Wai, Bub, how 
much '1 J t cost to telegraph a deespatch down to Punk- 
town?" "Oh," says Willie, debonairly, "we charge 
most folks twenty-five cents for a ten-word message, but 
being as you're a granger we'll let you down easy. You 
can send three messages for a dollar." The stranger 
lost sight of the overcharge in resenting the epithet, 
and snarled: 

"Whut makes ye call me a granger? I ain't got no 
hayseeds in m' hair." 

"Naw, " said long-suffering Willie, imitating the 
rustic's tone, "Naw; but you've got the soil on yuh!" 



IF you have decided to start out upon a horse-buying 
expedition on your own responsibility, to combine busi- 
ness with pleasure, remember first the old maxim, 
that a good horse is never a bad color. It is as difficult 
to find two horses alike as it is two men; in all my 
rather wide experience I have seldom seen a matched 
pair. There is a better chance to get good cross matches, 
and it is better to have them crossed than to have a 
pair that do not mate. You cannot buy a horse as 
you would a bit of silk, and the best matcher of goods 
who ever haunted a bargain counter would find about a 
hundred chances to ona against success in this line. 
Therefore don't ask the opinion of your wife, your aunt, 
or your grandmother and their immediate relations, 
nor your own friends; if you will select a horse, the 
soundest and of the best conformation, and show him 
to a dozen of your friends each and every one would give 
a different opinion, though they are probably as ignor- 
ant as yourself. Perhaps one happens to own a good 
horse which he picked up by chance, and thinks wis- 
dom on this question will die with him. Now if you 
are not conversant with the anatomy of a horse, you had 
better not try to buy him on your own judgment, un- 




less you are purchasing from a responsible house or 
well-known dealer who has a reputation to uphold. 

But if you are an enthusiastic buyer on your own 
account, perhaps the writer can give you some hints. 
After you select the horse which you think has captured 
your fancy it might be best to have him brought out 
for a careful examination. If free from defects he is the 
most likely to retain your good opinion, if you are any- 
thing like the writer, who always buys or leaves on first 
impressions. But as this might not suit an amateur, 
some more explicit directions will be in order. To be- 
gin, be sure that he is cool, and not in a heated condi- 
tion ; remember that horses are subject to every ailment 
and disease that human flesh is heir to; that he has tem- 
perament, disposition, individuality, and needs to be 
very carefully bought. The first thing you look at is 
his foot no toot, no horse; it 
should be on the concave order, a 
deep sole and not too narrow; 
this denotes breeding. Run your 
hand down his forelegs, examine 
for splints; if on the bone they 
will never hurt him, but if on the 
tendons drop him like a hot po- 
tato, no matter how small the 
splint. To save further time and 
trouble have him jogged quietly 
down the floor, on stones if pos- 
A CONCAVE HOOF, sible, and look for lameness, and 
see if his style of going suits you. Now examine his cor- 
onets for side-bones; take a look at his eyes, and that 



very closely. Stand in front of him to see that he has a 
full chest; glance between his forelegs at his spavin 
joints; run your hand over his kidneys and press hard as 


youdosojpass behind him and see that he stands square; 
examine for curbs (a curb will never hurt a horse after 
he is six years old); feel his hocks for incipient spav- 


ins, or bruises on the cap of his hocks, which require a 
satisfactory explanation from the owner; don't forget 
to look for thorough-pins and bog spavins; look care- 
fully at his hips that they are both alike; personally 
I would never buy an interfering horse, or a horse that 
shows symptoms of it. 

In the matter of age four years old is not preferable. 
I had rather buy a horse at eight than five, as he is 
then in his prime, and his habits are all developed; if 
a horse has arrived at that age and maintained his 
soundness, you can rely upon his being a good one See 
that your intended purchase is well ribbed up; long 
backed, narrow-gutted horses are had feeders and doers, 
and cannot stand their work. See also that he has 
plenty of neck, good, high shoulders and sloping back. 
Then proceeding, ask the holder of the horse to walk 
quick into his flank both ways, turning him quickly; 
then back him while you look carefully for symptoms 
of springhalt or cramps. If up to this time the horse 
has borne inspection favorably, put a man on his back 
and gallop him as fast as he will go to test his wind for 
a whistling sound. If all right have him put in har- 
ness to see if he has any vice Stable habits such as 
weaving, wind-sucking, cribbing and halter-pulling 
must be left to the veracity of the seller's word, as they 
are only to be detected when the horse is standing 
quietly in the stable. If he fills the bill, buy him; good 
horses are scarce. 

After you get him home use him kindly for a few 
weeks. Don't use the whip; make a friend of him. 
Horses coming fresh from the country require to be 


worked by degrees and very gradually. Don't expect a 
horse that is fresh from the country to play the piano; 
if he is good tempered he will very soon get accustomed 
to city sights. Horses should be treated as intelligent 
beings; they are like men in the amount of courage 
they can muster up; some are the veriest cowards and 
others are possessed of a dare-devil spirit. 

Horse science has proven that a clipped horse proper- 
ly cared for is even in the coldest weather, if in con- 
stant use, far more comfortable than those which are 
allowed to retain their full coat of hair. Man requires 
such work of the horse as to sweat him severely if his 
coat be long, and indeed it has been found so burden- 
some to a horse that when driven for any distance he 
would blow quite seriously, whereas after being clipped 
he could go without discomfort. If the long coat could 
be kept dry it would not be objectionable, but as soon 
as it becomes saturated with sweat it is a menace to 
health. It is necessary, of course, after the removal 
of the long coat, to provide a double allowance of cloth- 
ing, and avoid standing still out of doors without 
blankets after using, for any length of time. Properly 
cared for, however, the danger of a clipped horse tak- 
ing cold is much less than when the hair is long and 
wet with perspiration. 

A man who loves his horse, looking carefully to feed- 
ing and watering him, seldom has a sick one; it is the 
careless feeder whose horses often have colic and like 
disorders from improper and irregular feeding, which 
in other stock would give no bad results. Musty hay, 
oats and corn are not n't for food. Bedding should be 


supplied in abundance and not allowed to lie in lumps 
or in an uneven manner, but kept constantly shaken 
up. The bed should be raised along the side of the 
stall, wet parts and droppings removed and replaced 
with clean straw. This treatment, with disinfectants, 
will make the stable wholesome. For large establish- 
ments that have a number of loose boxes I advise the 
use of peat moss ; it is good for the feet and much cleaner 
and cheaper than straw, and does not attract flies. 

Don't send your new horse to the blacksmith to have 
his feet cut down to make them look small. In the writ- 
er's experience many horses have been ruined by the 
smith cutting the foot to fit the shoe,rather than mak- 
ing the shoe to fit the foot. Leave him plenty of sole; 
never let the knife be put into it, the rasp being far 
preferable. How would you feel if you had been wear- 
ing good sized, thick soled shoes and were put suddenly 
in slippers, and made to run over hard roads? 

Give your new purchase easy work; he may have 
come fresh from a feeding stable, and his muscles may 
not yet be hardened. Should your coachman find a 
swelling on the horse's tendons after a drive, see that 
he puts some Ellimen's or other good liniment on the 
swollen parts, and ties a cold-water bandage around it, 
with a dry flannel bandage over that. Then lay the horse 
up for a few days and use your old horse, which, if you 
are wise, you have not yet sold. If the sick horse goes 
off his feed he has probably caught a cold, or had 
the acclimating fever, when a competent veterinary 
should be called. 

Don't use your horses morning, noon and night. Both 


horses and coachman will serve you better and last 
longer if not taken out on stormy nights, as will also 
your carriage. It will save you money in the long run. 
Now a word about coachmen. Don't change your 
man every three months; his business is really a profes- 
sion which must be learned and practiced, and in which 
only an intelligent man becomes duly proficient. Don't 
ask him to wash windows, clean off the steps or run 
errands and do odd jobs about the place. To keep his 
stable (and there are many handsome ones in America) 
and the equipments, vehicles and horses in order means 
hard and steady all-day work, and will keep him suffi- 
ciently busy if he takes a proper pride in his berth. 
There is a good deal of rivalry among members of the 
fraternity as to who shall turn out the finest looking 
vehicles and accouterments and best kept horses. If 
you are going away for three months don't turn him 
loose; it would be wiser, if he suits you, to keep him 
on the pay-roll and know that the important work in 
his charge will not go undone during your absence. 
This, too, creates a desire on his part to take a deeper 
and more personal interest in the welfare of your es- 
tablishment, and there is no question but such a course 
would do away with certain practices which have un- 
fortunately crept in through introduction by some un- 
principled men of this class. There will always be a 
few such in every trade, and a person of this sort will 
always try to recoup himself for his loss of time by ob- 
taining commission upon some sale or purchase which 
will generally be found to be necessary. When he 
changes his place, something will all at once mysteri- 



ously ail the horses, and they too must be changed. 
But it is only due to the faithful and responsible men 
who fill these positions to say that the percentage of 
unreliable ones is singularly small, and doubtless some 
who have fallen might not have descended if sure of 
being settled from year's end to year's end on good 
behavior. A love of conscientious performances and 
identity with his master's fortunes and interests will 
do much toward keeping a good man straight, and re- 
claiming a dishonest one. 



GALLAGHER is the stockyards detective. Brown is the 
stockyards gatekeeper. Gallagher's occupation being 
peripatetic and Brown's stationary, the two in en inev- 


itably meet at least once a day in the course of Gal- 
lagher's perambulations. This conversation, or some 
very like it, occur upon every such occasion: 
Gallagher to Brown: "What do you know?" 
Brown to Gallagher: "I don't know nuthin'. What 
do you?" 




Gallagher: "Nuthin'; only that I have a soft snap. 
I want to hold some one up. Haven't done a turn for 
five years. I went up to make a grab on old Phil, the 
'con' steer, an' after walk in' a mile found he'd been 
dead six months. But I have a tip, Brown, a sixty to 
one shot. I'll give it to you if you don't give it away." 

Brown: "I'll go you." 

Gallagher: "Brown, up at the yards there's the 
squarest, straigbtest, soberest lot o' men anywhere on 
God's earth. Keep mum. I'm going to make a sneak 
for awhile. Keep cases on the craft as well as on the 
gate. Ta-ta!" 

Brown: "Ta-ta." 




DON'T starve your colts! Feed them well in winter 
months and house them warm. Brood mares that are 
fed a fair amount of oats a few months before foaling 
will produce stronger and healthier foals than those 
that are only fed on hay. Fuss with the colts in your 
spare winter hours; you will find it pays to get them 
used to the harness. And if you attend to their feet hy 
rasping there will be fewer splints. As the colts come 
along you may observe a dead, rough appearance to their 
coats, which is invariably caused by worms. To cure 
this give them half a pint of raw linseed oil, and repeat 
in ten days, feeding on soft feed in the interval. 

When you are getting the young stock ready for the 
buyer, take them up and stable them; blanket them, 
and have them well groomed ; it pays to give them plenty 
of "elbow grease" to make their coats sleek. 



If you have any curs or mongrels on your farm, cut 
them loose 1 it costs no more to teed a good colt than 
a bad one. And remember about feeding that to 
stint your horses, especially those for sale, is a "penny 
wise and pound foolish" policy. It will usually be 
found necessary once in a while to mix a little ground 
linseed cake with the feed. 

A word to you, too, about the treatment, of the stock. 
Whipping a shying, frightened, or balky horse is sense- 
less and cruel. Pain does not relieve fright, but the 
assuring voice of a kind master does. Whipping will 
make a confirmed shyer of the horse, for he will connect 
the pain with his fear. It would bo well if every one 
owning, using, caring for, or dealing in horses, could 
be made to realize the essentially human character of 
most of the horse-traits observable. If this could be 
accomplished the effect should be to enlist every such 
person a volunteer member of a world-wide humane 
society, and extinguish forever the foolish and wicked 
disposition to abuse and belabor a horse which now 
possesses many who should know better. It has ever 
been a dictum of the writer (than whom scarcely any 
man has had wider horse experience), "Always treat a 
horse with kindness; never abuse a horse." And the 
practice of this virtue is more than its own reward; the 
animal will reward you. For this he will love, serve 
and be a faithful friend to you. 

Many a fractious or balky horse has been transformed 
by a little kindness. Speak to such a one gently and 
soothingly, and, if frightened, reassuringly. He soon 
learns your voice and knows it as well as a human be- 
ing dees. He will interpret its every tone, and be guided 


thereby. When he has driven you well, give him a 
kindly pat, a hearty word, and an apple to eat, or a bit 
of sugar, and notice how almost human is his pride 
and gratification. Remember that this is a love and 
fealty which can never be bought. You cannot tempt 
him with gauds or any mercenary reward. The value 
of these he cannot know, but he will give you love for 
love, and that in no stinted measure. 

The writer once bought for eighty dollars a fine horse 
which had previously sold for $1,500, but whose temper 
had been ruined by injudicious handling. To drive 
her at first strained the muscles almost beyond endur- 
ance, and she jumped at every trifle. In a week's time 
through kindness and sympathy she was brought to go 
boldly past the object of her worst fears, and could be 
driven with the fingers of one hand. 

Have your horses nicely shod in front, and when you 
go to town take along your best horses and your Sun- 
day harness. Neither one will "wear out" very readily 
if they are the right sort, and appearances go a long 
way. Take a wholesome pride and pleasure in having 
your outfit all looking spick and span. 

Make it your business and take pride in doing it 
to show your stock to the local liverymen and veteri- 
naries, and if you have something good they are likely to 
soon send you plenty of buyers. 

Don't breed to a cheap stallion merely because it is 
convenient. Subscribe for The Horseman, Horse Re- 
view, Drover's Journal, Breeder's Gazette, The Rider 
and Driver, or some other good sporting paper, and 
know what is going on in the stock world. 


A GOOD joke is told on William Potter in connection 
with the late Madison Square Horse Show, New York. 

New York is William's former home, and having 
been absent from there a number of years he decided 


on this auspicious occasion to make it a visit and astonish 
the natives. So giving orders to his good wife to have his 
nether toggeries creased and his Prince Albert packed, 
he hied him away to the Lake Shore depot, and with a 
merry smile to the clerk called out, "First class and 
sleeper to New York!" 

Arriving at the metropolis, he attired himself in his 
new and superciliously correct dress suit, none other 

being fashionable at that swell horse show. 



As he entered the show building he was observed by 
a bunch of cockney coachmen, one of whom remarked, 
"Get on to his nibs." 

"Who is he?" asked another. 

"Hush I Why, that's the Duke of Somerset, " an- 
swered a third. 

The story passed around and William became the 
cynosure of all eyes. William, who is a true type of 
an old-country dealer, and is as fond of a joke as any 
one, kept it up, and that is how he gained the sobriquet 
of the Duke of Somerset. Either under his own or 
assumed name he will always be ready to assist you 
of course on a commission, which will be money well 
laid out. Long and prosperous life to William Potter, 
alias the Duke of Somerset, than whom no man in 
America is a better judge of fine horses! 



BEFORE leaving home write for the state of the market 
and, if possible, take advantage of the time when large 
combination sales are to be held, and you then get the 
benefit of their extensive advertising. Write to all your 
acquaintances in advance, giving them a general knowl- 
edge of what you are bringing. Don't be afraid of a 
few stamps to your friends; they can do some advertis- 
ing for you. Put your horses in nice condition con- 
dition tells, and good grooming goes a long way. Don't 
ship any rough coated or thin horses, as they are not 
wanted at auction sales and do not pay to ship. 

Another thing. You, my friend, have felt, without 
doubt, the effects of a draught from an open car window 
or door on a train running forty miles an hour. Well, 
how do you suppose your stock get along in the ordinary 
car in which horses are shipped? If you area wise man 
you will order an Arm's palace car, where the animals 
will be as comfortable as if in their own stable, and can 
be attended to thoroughly, landing as well and hearty 
as when they left home. 

These cars are fitted up to hold eighteen horses, and 
the small extra charge will bean investment well made 
and which will amply repay you, as they arrive with- 
out sickness, shrinkage, or car-bruises. How often do 
you hear the auctioneer cry out, about a valuable horse 




that was shipped as sound as a dollar, "Serviceably 
sound! Gar-bruised!" when otherwise the sign "Sound" 
would have been hung up! This means a matter of $30 
or $50 difference in his price, and is worth considering. 
Don't forget to bring along your warm blankets in 
winter, and summer 
clothing in 311 miner. 
After you arrive at 
your desti nation 
have your horses put 
away quietly ;see that 
they have a nice, 
warm bran-mash and 
if they have come a 
long journey, under 
no condition show 
them to any one, as 
they are not up to 
themselves. Many a 
good sale is lost be- 
cause of anxiety to 
sell the moment of 
arrival. Be firm in 
this, and remember 
that "first impres- 
sions to a buyer go 
a long way." Your 
first business upon 
arriving should be to "CAN i SELL YOU SOMETHING, SIR?" 
have your horses trimmed by an expert trimmer; trim- 
ming gives a finish to a horse as much as a clean shave 
does to a man. 


When your horses are fit to show, be up bright and 
early for business, and don't refuse a profitable offer, 
remembering always that "a bird in hand is worth two 
in the bush." At the same time it is well to always 
ask more than you are prepared to accept, as a buyer 
will almost invariably want to buy cheaper. You can 
come down gracefully, but you cannot go up. 

When you come to town to sell horses, sell horses 
don't go downtown to buy your best girl a frock; you 
can do that when the last "tail-ender" is gone, also "see 
the elephant" and "fight the tiger." Don't leave your 
business to a substitute; stay right alongside of your 
horses, never leaving them except for meals, and mak- 
ing that time as short as possible. Buyers like to run 
through the stable when it is quiet. Then again you 
both have more time to talk. Always "carry a whip in 
your hand, and have handy a neat show-bridle and brush 
to smooth the manes of the horses, and when they are 
trotted out the whip comes handy, as the animals are 
apt to be sluggish after a journey, and want waking up. 

Keep your horses up in their stalls; buyers sometimes 
miss a good horse in rushing through the stables through 
the horse's hanging his head, and thus not taking the 
passer's eye. Be on hand at all times to answer ques- 
tions, and don't be afraid to accost people who pass 
and repass. Don't judge a man by his clothes, and be 
pleasant to all, even the stable lads; a kind word now 
and then, and an occasional tip is never thrown away 
they can all do you a good turn even if they them- 
selves don't want to buy. Do I see you smiling, sir? 
No matter; they can do you some good. Civility costs 
nothing, as the Dutch say of paint, 



Have your bridle put on the pick of your lot and trot 
him out. You cannot do this too often, even though 
it is a little trouble, for it attracts attention and you 
do not know who may be around. It often leads to 
business. So don't wait to be asked to pull him out, 
but do it often of your own accord, especially if you see 
likely looking buyers about. Don't misrepresent your 
horses; tell the honest truth and you will make friends. 
If you are not a thorough judge of a sound horse you 
should not be in the business. 

Lastly, an intelligent dealer who attends to this busi- 
ness in a proper spirit will sell his shipment at a price 
which will well recompense him for his trouble. 




THERE are eight or nine crews of horse harbors at the 
yards, and they are important features there. They 
do the transformation act on the country horses shipped 
to the yards to be sold. 


Country horses usually come in with a ragged fore- 
lock, a mane which straggles over both sides of the 
neck, long hair on their legs, and rough coats. The 
first thing the bright shipper does is to take his "string" 
around to the barber and have them trimmed, and 
the second thing he does is to hie himself to the near- 
est tonsorial artist and get a clean shave. 



When the shipper and his horses meet again they 
don't know each other. The horses have smooth, shiny 
coats, their legs are clean and sleek to look at ; and they 
have nice manes falling evenly over one side of the neck 
and somehow the neck looks a gocd deal more arched 
that way and there are bows of bright ribbon tied in 
the rippling locks, and bright ribbons are in the neatly 
braided tails; while the shipper himself is spick and 
span from his recent "brush-up." 

"Golly," says the shipper, when lie sees the horses, 
"I didn't know them horses could look like that! 
Ought to bring a good price lookin' so fine." 

The horses gaze at their owner and nudge each other 
as much as to say, "Gosh! Didn't know our boss was 
as good lookin' as that! But ho don't come up to us 
yet; he ain't got no ribbons in Lis mane." 


SALE A widow lady, recently bereaved, will 
^^'sell her late husband's fast trotting mare, RosieR; 
cost in Kentucky .f 3,000. Rosie R is sound, does not shy or 
wear boots ; has no record ; can be driven at the top of her 
speed by a timid person in '30. Price to any one who will give 
her a good home, $350 T\vo weeks 'trial allowed. Apply 
at stables, rear 4737 Ketchem Blvd. 

IT is only an advertisement. A great many people 
notice it. Some read it casually, as they would the ad. 
of a strong German girl who wants a situation as gen- 
eral houseworker; others, generally sporting men, laugh 
when they read it, growing quite hilarious as they tell 
each other reminiscences which seem in some way to bear 
upon the advertisement; a third class read it, read it 
again, and then call on their wives to pack their valises 
at once, as they must catch a train. The latter class is 
composed of country people and city merchants who 
think a good deal about fast horses, but know very little 
about them. 

A well known and prosperous merchant sits at his Sun- 
day morning breakfast in a large city not a hundred 
miles from Chicago. He is lingering luxuriously over 
his coffee and Sunday morning paper. He reads the 
political news first and then the foreign news. The ad. 
sheet is a page he never looks at except when he wants 
something in particular. Just now he wants some- 
thing in particular. The recently bereaved widow's ad. 
catches his eye. He hurriedly gulps down his coffee 
and hastens to the telephone. "East, 105," he says, 




and a minute later: "Hello, Lowell, be at the club at 
11:15 sharp, will you? Think I've found the snap we 
want. All right. Good-bye." 

At 11:15 sharp our merchant and Lowell meet at the 
club. "See that," says the merchant, throwing down 
the paper. "I think that is about the horse we want." 

Lowell looks at it critically, with the air of a man 
who is called upon to prove his judgment. The mer- 
chant thinks Lowell is horse wise. Lowell thinks so 
too only more so. "Yes, that looks good. But if you 
want it you'll have no time to lose. Better run up on 
the seven train in the morning." That suits our mer- 
chant, and by 10:80 Monday morning our two friends 
are in a hansom driving post haste to 4787 Ketchem 



Their pasteboards are presented to the recently be- 
reaved widow, who cpmes to the door in deepest and swel- 
lest weeds, with a winning smile lighting up the weepy 
pallor of her countenance. "I must ask you to go around 
and see my man John," she says in a gracious voice in 
which there is a pathetic sound of tears. Our two men 
almost prostrate themselves in apologizing for their in- 
trusion upon the charming little widow's grief. They 
feel as they betake themselves to the stables that they 
must be a born combination of the blockhead and brute 
to have thought for a moment of seeing the widow in 
person about the horse. Bad enough that she must part 
with her husband's pet that she shouldn't be bothered 
with selling it, too. 

"My man John" is a most obliging and well trained 
coachman. When he puts his heels together and touches 
his crepe-banded hat respectfully the men from the 
large city not a hundred miles from Chicago feel that 
be is the soul of honesty. The stable is magnificent, and 
there is a display of costly equipages and glittering har- 
ness. Rosie R is found in a padded stall, and is a good- 
looking specimen of the equine race. The two men fancy 
they see points worth $3,000 all over her. They call up 
a picture of Rosie R in a glittering harness, drawing a 
swell little carriage with the sweet little widow hand- 
ling the ribbons. And then they feel that it was beastly 
for her husband to die and leave her without the means 
to keep Rosie R. They also see in imagination them- 
selves breaking the record of the fastest horse in their 
city with Rosie R, scooping up the shekels from the 



Lowell, remembering his horse wisdom, 
slips a ten dollar bill into John's hand for 
points on Rosie R. John knows a great 
deal about Rosie R, for he was his late 
dear master's right-hand man in horse 
matters, but he doesn't know a single, 
solitary point in Rosie R's disfavor. Oui'| 
merchant is wonderfully impressed with 
her, but says he wants to see her trot 
before taking her. So John has her in a 
buggy in a jiffy and starts down the boule- 
vard. Our friends are ignorant of the city 
ordinances regarding fast driving on the Chicago boule- 
vards, so when a policeman shouts at them about half 
a block from the starting place, "You there, I'll pull 
you in for furious drivin' on the strate, shure, ef ye 
don't sthop!" they are nonplussed, but they don't say 
anything. They wouldn't for the world have John think 
that the city not a hundred miles from Chicago is not 
fully as big as Chicago, and possessed of mysterious 
regulations against "furious drivin' on the strate." 

As they drive back to the stable again another buyer 
is coming around the corner of the house in searcli of "my 
man John." He is evidently an expert on horseflesh, 
for it doesn't take him long to decide that Rosie R is 
all and more than she is said to be, and he signifies his 
eagerness to possess her. Our merchant grows anxious. 
He would like to have seen her trot, but it won't do 
to let this new buyer get ahead of him and get her. He 
makes signs to John not to be in a hurry; Lowell makes 
signs too. But John is in a corner evidently arranging 


terms with the new buyer, and is blind to signs Our 
merchant becomes more anxious as he sees John taking 
down Kosie R's silver mounted harness. It's now or 
not at all, and he says conclusively, "I'll take her." 
John is all regrets for the new gentleman's disappoint- 
ment, and expresses them as profusely as his great def- 
erence will allow. "But, you see, sir," he concludes, 
"these gentlemen came first. " The gentlemen who came 
first uiss the wink which accompanies this remark as 
John prepares Rosie R for her departure. A little while 
later $850 is in John's pocket, while Rosie R and a re- 
ceipt for her price are in the possession of the gentle- 
men from the large city not a hundred miles from 
Chicago, where they are going to astonish the natives 
with their trotting snap. 

When they are well out of sight John and the new 
buyer hie themselves to the house, where they find the 
weepy widow convulsed, not with weeping, but with 
laughter. John and the new buyer join the chorus; they 
open a bottle of wine, and the trio drink to the speed of 
Rosie R and the happiness of the sucker who is born 
every minute. The bottle disposed of, the widow dons 
her weepy expression, the "new buyer" disappears 
around the corner,and John brings forth another horse 
from another part of the stable and puts her in Rosie 
R's padded stall. 

In a little while around the corner of the house comes 
a man, evidently from the country, perspiring profusely 
in his eagerness to get there, who has been referred 
by the widow to "my man John." The new Rosie R is 
trotted out. The man from the country likes her, but 


is inclined to insist upon the "two weeks' trial al- 
lowed." Just at this juncture the "new buyer" swings 
around the corner of the house. He is delighted with 
the new Rosie R. He remarks to the man from the 
country, as John trots her up and down, "That mare 
will make another Maud S, if you put her on the race 
track." The man from the country is gullible but not 
guileless, and as his intention is to get a horse to trot 
at the races, this remark appeals to him mightily. In 
imagination he already sees himself on a sulky behind 
Rosie R's flying heels, coming in first on the homestretch 
amidst the plaudits of the farmers. 

Still, he would like to see her trot before paying out 
his money. The new man, on the contrary, evidently 
feels quite safe in his knowledge of horses, and begins 
to close the bargain. The man from the country slides 
up to John's ear and says, "Five dollars for yourself if 
you let me have her." John is again very sorry for the 
new buyer. "But the other gentleman came first, and 
you know, sir, it's 'first come, first served.'" 

And so the game goes on all day. As many as a 
dozen Rosie R's occupy the padded stall in succession. 
In the evening the widow, recently bereaved, the "new 
buyer" and "my man John" vacate the premises. They 
take with them a hall rug, a hall chair and a hall tree. 
These constitute the whole furniture of the house. 
They also take with them two or three thousand dol- 
lars, the result of one day's work. 

This is the modus operandi of one of the many sorts 
of confidence games played in a great city. This game 
is so old that there is hardly any excuse for its victims 


The fact that it is widely and successfully played with 
impunity proves how gullible mankind is, and how 
averse to making its folly known when it is duped. 
The "widow, recently bereaved,'* is more often than 
not the wife of "my man John," and the "new buyer" 
is a confederate. Even the policeman on the corner gets 
a bit of the "swag" to be on hand at the right moment 
to threaten arrast for "furious drivin' on the strate" 
when "Rosie R" is taken out to be speeded on the 
boulevard. The swell residence is rented; or maybe 
only the key has been obtained from the unsuspecting 
agent. The hall is furnished to allow the prospective 
purchasers a glimpse of a furnished interior as the 
"widow" opens the door and refers them to "my man 
John." The stable is hastily fitted up for the occasion 
with swagger carriages and harnesses. The Rosie R's 
sold have very likely never trotted fast enough in their 
lives to keep themselves warm. They are bought cheap, 
probably the most any one of them cost being $75. 

Once in a great while the dupes kick. Sometimes 
they write their grievance to the "widow" and some- 
times they come back with the horse. If they write 
they get no answer, and if they come back they find the 
swell residence vacated. The police are appealed to, 
but the police can't help them at least they never do. 

Sometimes, instead of the sale by the recently be- 
reaved widow, it is an administrator's sale. Then the 
advertisement is long and grandiloquent: 

SALE Administrator's sale, the contents of a 
"^"^ private stable, consisting of the following- desirable 
horses: Mambrino Girl, by Red Wilkes, out of Mambrino 
Patchen mare; is six years old, 15.3% high. Has shown 


private trials better than '30; has no public record. Fear- 
less of any object ; does not shy or pull ; safe for the most 
timid person to drive at height of her speed. She wears no 
boots nor weights. A grand mare in company, single or 
to the pole. Time shown to purchaser. Also trotting geld- 
ing Billy Brown, seven years old, 15% hands; will trot heat 
better than 30; he has no public record, but has been driven 
by his late owner in showtime. He wears nothing but 
quarter boots. No horse jockeys need apply, as the object 
is not the price these horses will bring, but to get them out 
of city to good homes where they will not be tracked or 
campaigned. To be sold at the same time, one Brewster 
side-bar %-seat; top buggy, pole and shafts; one speeding 
cutter; one set road double harness by Duncan, New York; 
beside all other articles pertaining to stables. Address C. K. 
HARRIS, 110-111 Cheetyoo Bldg. 

When this long-winded ad. appears there is, instead 
of the swell residence inhabited by the widow, a sump- 
tuous suite of offices in an expensive downtown office 
building, occupied by a gentleman of imposing presence. 
On the outer door is an inscription like this: 


Real Estate, Mortgages, Loans, Bonds 
Burbank Estate 

In the anteroom stands a boy in elegant livery. It 
is the duty of this "Buttons" to impress upon the call- 
ers usually church elders, slick would-be sports from 
the country, or smart Alecs with the wisdom of Solo- 
mon from the city the busy importance of his master. 
When the caller makes known his business Buttons re- 
fers him to "my man John," who is an indispsusable 
adjunct to this game, no matter what the accessories. 
John, with many scrapes and bows, ushers the caller 
into a splendidly furnished inner office, where the gen- 


tletnan of imposing presence is found busily engaged in 
filling in checks with no less than four figures. He 
doesn't deign to look up when John enters; he is ap- 
parently quite too occupied with business involving 
thousands, if not millions, to heed the entrance of his 
man. John stands respectfully waiting permission to 
epeak. At last the great man tears out a check, and 
touching his bell imperiously, brings "Buttons" scud- 
ding in. "Give this check on the First National to 
White; tell him to settle Smith & Jones' claim, and 
bring the other $2,000 to me; tell him to hurry up. 
Now, John, what do you want?" 

John's head ducks nearly to his toes in a profound 
bow as he announces: "Here's a gentleman, sir, wants 
to buy Mambrino Girl, sir." 

"Oh, I can't talk horse today, John. I'm too busy 
too busy to say a word about it, I tell you. Take the 
gentleman out and show him the horse. Pardon me, 
sir," and the gentleman of imposing presence turns his 
head half way toward his caller, "I am too busy today 
to talk about this matter, but my man John here will 
show you the mare." The caller, who may be consid- 
erable of a swell himself when he is at home, is so im- 
pressed by this sumptuously surrounded great man that 
he forgets to be offended at the scant courtesy with 
which he is relegated to the hands of John. 

John is equal to the occasion, and conducts the caller 
to a stylish carriage conveniently waiting, and caller 
and carriage are whirled over the boulevards behind a 
pair of high steppers which set the caller speculating 
as to their value. John is talkative, however, once out- 


side his master's presence, and engages the caller with 
a description of his late master, "Mr. Burbank's," 
wealth and appreciation of fine horses. According to 
John, u Mr. Burbauk" thought no price too high to pay 
for a horse that suited him. "There wa'n't no better 
judge of fine horses in the country than Mr. Burbank," 
he goes on. "It's different, now, with Mr. Harris; he 
don't know much about horses; he's a damn fool; he's 
all for see that brown stone over there (pointing to 
P. D. Armour's million dollar residence)? That's part 
of the Burbank estate. Mr. Harris, he's all for dogs. 
Paid $1,800 for a dog yesterday. That's nothing for him ; 
he paid nearly three times that for a pair of mastiffs last 
winter. There's a house belongs to Mr. Harris, worth 
about a million and a halt'. Mr. Burbank had the finest 
string of trotters I ever see, and I've seen a good many, 
being with Mr. Burbank about fifteen years last De- 
cember, just before he died. I guess I know about as 
much about hbrses myself as any man in the state. 
Here we are, sir," and the carriage rolls up before a 
handsome stable. 

As the caller follows John into the stable he is daz- 
zled by the broad view he gets of a carriage room fairly 
a-glitter with swell equipages and silver-mounted har- 
ness. Mambrino Girl is led out for his inspection, and 
she is so well groomed and so respectfully handled that 
he is unconsciously convinced that she is indeed a val- 
uable animal, although upon first sight she really does 
not look much better than his own filly at home, upon 
whom he has always looked with some contempt for her 
snail-like pace. But then, he reflects, you can't always 


judge by appearances. He says he would like to see 
Mambrino Girl trot. Somehow, just as John is on the 
point of gratifying his desire, a very swell looking man 
appears on the scene. The swell looking man has come 
to look at Mambrino Girl; he knows Mambrino Girl 
well; he also knows John well John touches his hat 
to him most deferentially and was an intimate friend 
of Mr. Burbank. John asks the caller in a whisper if 
he knows Mr. Potter Palmer, or Mr. Vanderbilt or 
Montgomery Sears, as the case may be, and if he does 
not he is at once introduced. The caller has seen pic- 
tures of the gentleman named and the swell looking 
man bears a striking resemblance to the pictures. Of 
course it never occurs to him that the swell looking 
man has been made a confederate of the gentleman of 
imposing presence and of "my man John" just for the 
monej 7 value of his striking resemblance to some prom- 
inent millionaire. 

Naturally he doesn't doubt Mr. let us say Vander- 
bilt when he talks of having sat behind Mambriuo Girl 
speeding at 2:80. That would be obviously absurd. 
Mr. Vanderbilt doesn't exactly want Mambrino Girl 
himself he already has so many fast horses but he 
hates to see his old friend's favorite go into the hands 
of a man who will campaign her. In fact would rather 
take her himself than have that happen. The caller 
hastens to assure him that he has no intention whatever 
of campaigning her (nine times out of ten that's a lie; 
he probably wants to start her in a free-for-all in the 
spring meeting, to skin the town with her if he can). Mr. 
Vanderbilt assures the caller of his appreciation of his 


intentions not to campaign her, and says he would 
really like to see Mambrino Girl in the caller's posses- 

The caller is tickled by this flattery from a great 
man. He almost decides to take Mambrino Girl, but 
not quite; he seems to want to see John alone first. 
Mr. Vanderbilt scents his desire and goes to attend a 
conference of railroad magnates around the corner. 
Shortly thereafter John and the caller re-enter the car- 
riage to return to the office and arrange matters with 
the gentleman of imposing presence. In the meantime 
John has been let into the secret of the caller's desire 
for Mambrino Girl; incidentally he has also received a 
fifty-dollar bill to give the caller straight tips on Mam- 
brino Girl. The caller wants a horse to put on the 
track at home that will make the natives green with 
envy, and he thinks Mambrino Girl will just fill the 
bill. John helps him to think so. 

They reach the sumptuous offices again, and find 
the gentleman of imposing presence busy, preparatory 
to going out. John puts his heels together and ducks his 
body as he announces that "the gentleman has decided 
to take the horse, sir." 

"Are you sure that horse is going into proper hands, 
John?" asks "C. K. Harris," pompously. The caller 
hastens to assure him that he can give the best of refer- 

"As administrator of this estate, sir, I must see that 
these horses go into proper hands. I'll drive over and 
look up these references at once. John, brush my 
clothes, quick now," 


"Don't talk that way to me," growls John, under his 
breath, whisking vigorously at his "master's" coat, 
"or I'll hit you over the head with the broom." 

By this time the caller is perspiring with anxiety, 
particularly as John keeps nudging him to pay out his 
money at once. But the administrator seems bent on 
discharging his duty to his deceased client faithfully, 
and off he carries his imposing presence. He slips 
down to a saloon where he looks up a thing or two 
which aren't references; then he takes a turn at the free 
lunch to cover up the fragrance of the thing or two, 
and goes leisurely back to his sumptuous office, his pres- 
ence becoming more portly with every step he takes in 
that direction. "I think you will do, sir, " he says to the 
waiting caller. Then after a little more pompous parley 
the caller gets a chance to plank down his money. He 
is now happy. There is just one thing more; he wants 
a pedigree of Mambrino Girl. "Oh, yes, of course," 
says the administrator, who is taking out his check 
book again to continue his important occupation of 
filling in figures, "John, where are those pedigrees?" 

"Yes, sir, they're down at the factory, sir." 

"Get them as soon as they are ready and mail one 
to the gentleman." 

"Yes, sir; all r'ght, sir." 

The caller's happiness is now complete, and he goes 
off to take his departure with his prize. In his pocket 
is a receipt for his money which reads so assuriugly that 
he likes to think of it. "Received of John W. Baxter 
the sum of $500, being payment in full for one bay 
mare, Mambrino Girl. Said mare is warranted kind 


and true in every respect, and free from all incum- 
brances. She eats and takes her rest well. The said 
mare is guaranteed to trot a full mile in 2:30 when in 
condition and with proper handling Ten days' trial 
allowed. If said mare does not prove to be as represent- 
ed in this instrument money will be refunded. Signed, 

"C. K. HARRIS." 

Could anything be more fair and reassuring? 

Ten to one no sooner are John and the caller beyond 
the doors of the sumptuous suite in the expensive office 
building downtown than another sucker calls in regard 
to the trotter which is to be sold at such a bargain on 
condition that she be not campaigned. "Buttons" in- 
forms the man of imposing presence of the sucker's 
business. The doors to the splendid inner offices are all 
open, and the sucker conceives a mighty respect for the 
dead man whose estate is being administered by the oc- 
cupant of such a swelldom, for the occupant himself, and 
for the estate, particularly that portion of it advertised 
as Mambrino Girl. He also hears the man of imposing 
presence order Buttons not to admit him (the sucker), 
that he has a bank directors' meeting to attend, that 
he can't possibly be bothered by all these people run- 
ning after Mambrino Girl, and to tell him (the sucker) 
that he may come later in the day. The sucker departs 
anxiously. The man of imposing presence takes the 
trolley to the stockyards, buys a horse for $50, tele- 
phones to John to come and get her "and fix her up," 
and hurry down to the office. The man of imposing 
presence then hurries back to the office himself. By 
and by John comes back also. So does the sucker. 


John and the man of imposing presence go through their 
respective parts again, and with such good effect that 
the sucker nearly has the buttons pulled off his coat in 
his anxiety to get out his pocketbook and make a de- 
posit on Mambrino Girl. The second Mambrino Girl is 
soon sold. That she takes the lung fever over night is 
no hindrance to the bargain. The sucker wants to see 
the horse off on the train himself, but the gentleman 
of imposing presence has thawed out and waves such 
an idea to the winds. "My men will attend to all that," 
he says, and carries the sucker off in the swell carriage 
drawn by the high steppers to show him the postoffice 
and city hall and other city sights. And when the 
sucker gets home he fancies that Mambrino Girl's lung 
fever was contracted on the train. 

And so the play goes merrily on. The administra- 
tor's sale and the widow,recently bereaved, have many 
variations. But they all have one trait in common 
they are all successful. They are so successful that 
in many cases the administrator and "my man John" 
retire, and live in splendor, as well as in respectabil- 
ity, on the profits of innumerable sales of Rosie R's 
and Mambrino Girls. There is one now living on Prairie 
Avenue, Chicago, who is married to a society belle. 
The society belle has not the remotest idea of the 
nature of her husband's past business, of course. 

There was a sucker once who was the chief of police 
in his own town. He wanted a horse to skin the boys 
with at the state fair races, and thought he had got a 
peach from the administrator's sale. He took her to a 
little town a few miles from home to do a little trim- 


ming before showing her. A week after he wrote to the 
administrator, "She can't trot in 5:80, let alone 2:30. 
Did you mean thirty minutes when you said she could 
trot in '80?" He received no reply. 

Three months later he was in Chicago. He met the 
administrator face to face in front of the postoffice. 

"Pardon me, isn't your name Harris?" he asked. 

"No, sir," answered the administrator. 

"But didn't you sell me a horse three months ago?" 

"No, sir, I never sold a horse in my life." 

"Didn't you have an office in the Cheetyoo Building 
three months ago?" 

"No, sir, I never had an office in any building in this 
city. You're mistaken in your man, sir. Good-day." 

"Well, if it wasn't you, you must have a twin brother 
in the real estate business," persists the chief of police 
in his own town. 

"No, sir, I have no twin brother. The only brother 
I have is a dwarf and an idiot. He isn't in any busi- 
ness. " 

" Well then, aren't you a gentleman of imposing pres- 
ence who sat in a swell office three months ago and 
helped your man John sell me a horse?" 

"No, sir, I'm a small man who wouldn't impose my 
presence upon such a gentleman as you to help any 
man's John. Good-day." 

"I beg your pardon. Good-day." And the chief of 
police in his own town sat down on the stone wall, and 
looked after the vanishing figure of the gentleman of 
imposing presence with a dazed expression. "I'm a 
sucker," he whispered to himself, "and if I don't take 
care some one will find it out." 


IN this day and generation it does not take the pub- 
lic long to find out a good thing, and so the traveling 
public has discovered that crossing the ocean on a cat- 
tle boat is a delight hitherto unknown, and an econo- 
my until now despaired of. And that is how it happens 
that so many cattle boats now carry passengers. 

The favorite steamer for this sort of voyage is a 
cattle boat, belonging to the Wilson Line of steam- 
er?, running between New York, London, Liverpool, 
Gothenburg, Antwerp and Havre. 

This cattle boat is a very handsome vessel, and 
one of the staunchest which ever rode old Neptune's 
treacherous back. It has elegant accommodations for 
fifty first class passengers, beside a capacity for 8,000 
horses, 1,200 cattle and 8,000 sheep, and also a place for 
thousands of tons of freight. The freight charges for 
horses are $20 per head; cattle, $8; sheep, $1. It used 
to be necessary to hoist these enormous numbers of 
horses and cattle on board very much as stones are 
raised by a derrick, but that has been done away with 
by the Wilson Line, whose cargoes of live stock are 
now walked up a gang plank just as they would be in 
being loaded on a train. 

The passengers, however, are really the most inter- 
esting "live stock" transferred across the water by the 

up-to-date cattle boats, and James P. Robertson, the 




Chicago agent for the Wilson Line, tells many funny 
stories of the '"innocents abroad" on their vessels 
But tales of travel by this mode all have one thing in 
common their refrain is the happiness and jolly good- 
nature of the passengers. 

The passengers have all the comforts and many more 
liberties and resources than the passengers on other 
steamers. If dancing, music, story-telling, and even 
lounging grow wearisome, they have a never failing 
resort in the cattle-hold, and the cry, "Let us call on 
our fellow-travelers, the steers, in the 'steerage,'" rises 
when ennui threatens. And, between you and me and 
the fencepost, the ladies are always ready to visit the 
"steerage," for the captain always tells them each 
lady in confidence, of course of the celebrated beauty, 
but rather notorious countess, who had a cow stable 
built near her palace that she might spend at least an 
hour a day there, for the countess knew all the secrets 
of beauty, and therefore knew that the sweet odor of 
the cow's breath is amongst the best of complexion rem- 
edies; and indeed, according to history, this countess 
did thus preserve her beautiful complexion until her 

Perhaps it is because of this that the ladies are so 
sorry when the voyage ends, and as the voyage is made 
in ten days, of course the gentlemen have not tired of 
it either, and so there is general lamentation when the 
cattle boat makes her .port. And why shouldn't 
there be, for who that has ever been "rocked in the 
cradle of the deep" in such a boat will say that it is 
not simply "great"? 


" BILLY, " the letter-carrier who has distributed mail 
through the stockyards district for the past fifteen years, 
is one of the best known character? of the neighbor- 
hood. Striding along with the even step of a mechan- 
ical walking man, Billy's familiar figure, shining face, 
and cheery smile are ever pleasing to lool? upon and 
welcomed by all. 

Billy has a wide-spreading reputation as a sprinter, 
having won in several eight day "go-as-you-please" 
contests, but what has really made him famous is the 
knowledge of horseflesh and stock market valuations 
he has acquired during the years he has been around 
the yards. In the horse market ti'mid buyers seek his 
advice before deciding upon the qualities of a horse or 
filly Billy knows a lot about fillies and, so valuable 
is his opinion considered, though he is always tidy and 
trim in his dress, as is befitting one of Uncle Sam's rep- 
resentatives, poor Billy has great difficulty in keeping 



the buttons on his uniform. He is constantly being 
submitted to buttonholing by those wishing advice or 

When a dispute arises which cannot be settled, re- 
garding the weight of a hog or a steer, all discussion is 
deferred till "Billy comes down the lino." He will not 
stop with the mail in charge, but sticking his thumb into 
the ribs of a steer, instantly pronounces judgment, 
which is never questioned, "Nine hundred and ninety," 
or, giving a crippled hog a dig with his toe, "Four hun- 
dred and forty, worth two and one-half." 

The story is told that, during the great storm of 1882, 
Billy turned up missing. After the storm blew over 
he was discovered up in the weighing division of the 
hog department, half frozen, and when brought to con- 
sciousness, the first words he uttered were "four hun- 
dred and forty." 

Billy, whose real name is William Torruochlen (he 
is called Billy by everybody, for, while there are a 
good many jaws broken at the yards they are mostly 
steers' jaws, and no human is willing to break his in 
pronouncing a name, not even Billy's), is the essence of a 
gentleman, strictly attentive to business, prompt in the 
performance of duty. He is kindly spoken of by all who 
know him, probably has more friends than any other 
man connected with the yards, and what Billy does not 
know about Texas steers and Poland-China hogs isn't 
worth trying to find out. Beside that, he is big on 
politics and carries the Twenty-ninth Ward in his vest 
pocket. Oh my, you should hear one of his political 
speeches on what he knows about civil service and 
postal reform! 


THE entire management of this famous hotel is per- 
fect. The rooms are kept scrupulously clean in every 
particular, and an abundance of the finest linen de- 
lights the patrons. 

The manager, L. E. Howard, reveals not only a thor- 
ough experience in catering, but a knowledge of the in- 
tricacies of conducting a hotel which is seldom found in 
any one person. He has solved the problem of how to 
give elegant rooms with the very best of meals for 
$2.00 to $2. 50 per day. 

There is more wealth housed under the roof of the 
Transit House every night than under that of any other 
hotel in Chicago. There are more solid (in pocket and 
body) bachelors making it their home and taking 
things easy than in any other hotel in the West. In 
deed, what the once famous Royal Hotel of New Or- 
leans was to the prosperous planter in the early part 



of the century, the Transit House is to the wealthy 
stockman of the West. 

Those who have never visited in the neighborhood 
of this hotel will be agreeably surprised by making it 
an evening call, when in its extensive corridors and 
spacious reading-rooms will be found groups of mil- 
lionaires from San Francisco, Montana and Wyoming, 
capitalists, cattle kings, stock raisers and well-to-do busi- 
ness men of the city who are lovers of good cheer, of 
old wine and juicy beef. There is a popular supposi- 
tion that the best beef raised in this country goes to 
Europe, but Manager Howard is a connoisseur in the 
selection of beef and gets his share of that selected for 

The Transit House is reached from downtown by 
the electric cars and the "alley L, " which connect with 
.lines running to all the depots, theaters, the city hall, 
postoffice and business houses. 



SHE is a daughter of Erin first and the child of a 
father who died for his country second just as her 
father would have liked her to be. Like most of the 
maidens of the Emerald Isle, she has hair as crisp and 
blue-black as a blackbird's wing, and big blue-gray 
eyes of that particular mixture which none but an Irish 
girl has ever dared to wear sweet, open eyes like a 
new-born calf's when she happens to be thinking, but 
deep, dark pcnds of roguishness, not to say deviltry, 
when the boys come her way. She has a broad fore- 



head with a few black tendrils just creeping out where 
the flesh and hair meet, much more worth the eulogy of 
a poet than that lady's lock Pope has made immortal, 
heavy black brows and silken fringes over her eyes. 
The rest of her face is pretty, like th3 faces of all Irish- 
American girls a marvelous skin with a suggestion of 
freckles when the wind blows, a nose tilting skyward 
just enough to prove the owner's aspirations, a full 
mouth which tempts a man to kiss it while it defies 
him on pain of being bitten to do it, and there are 
two rows of snowy ivory behind the lips to fulfill the 
threat. When you see Kitty Kitty Malorey her name 
is, but she is Kitty to everybody and Miss Malorey to 
nobody but the frequently occurring young gosling 
who would give his eyes to have her and hasn't any- 
thing but his tongue to support his pretensions well, 
when you see Kitty walk into the yards of a morning 
with a step as light as a maverick's and a face as bright 
as a pink morning-glory, you would not think that her 
shoulders bear the burden of supporting a dear old 
mother. Probably Kitty does not think it either, for 
if you ask her she will tell you that she "lives with her 
mother," never having realized that her mother lives 
with her, and she says it in a way which tells you that 
she doesn't want your interest. 

Kitty is employed in the Exchange Building. She 
has made all the money she ever had in the stock- 
yards. She gets $9 per week, working from eight 
o'clock until six. When she went to work there five 
years ago as a little miss of fourteen she earned only 
$8, but whatever the amount, it has kept Kitty and her 


mother in bread and butter and put a roof over them- 
from the day she first drew her wages until the present. 
She has grown into womanhood at the stockyards, and 
the man who has not a place for Kitty in his heart, 
has not himself a place in many hearts at the yards, 
for the simple reason that he must be unknown there. 

Kitty has the courage of a heroine. If occasion pre- 
sented she would be a Grace Darling, or even a Joan of 
Arc, minus the visions. In fact she has demonstrated 
her courage and presence of mind to such good effect as 
to save a human life. This is how it came about: 

One day at the noon hour Kitty stood in the doorway 
of the Exchange Building. The sunshine was very en- 
ticing, and Kitty's thoughts wandered away to green 
meadows starred with buttercups and daisies and to 
purling brooks kissing the lips of over-hanging blue- 
bells. As her mind dwelt upon this rural picture her 
eyes noted an old acquaintance, Sergeant Moran, lit- 
erally an arm of the law at the yards, passing down the 
avenue on his way from the yards after making his 
rounds. Kitty nodded to the sergeant and he touched 
his cap to her, and then passed on out of Kitty's sight. 
One minute later instead of the sergeant her eyes rested 
on a bull charging down the avenue, his eyes glaring 
red and angry, his head lowered threateningly. He was 
evidently a wild bull escaped from a herd, and mad- 
dened by pursuit. Kitty's mind grasped the situation 
in a flash. A few yards away walked the sergeant, ob- 
viously lost in thought; behind him came the infuriated 
bull, the sound of his hoofs muffled by the soft earth, 
A tragedy was imminent. Would she have time to 


prevent it? She sprang inside to a hat rack and snatch- 
ing a man's scarlet muffler, ran into the street. Twenty 
yards to the right walked Sergeant Moran, ten yards to 
the left came the bull. A cry of warning left Kitty's 
lips as she reached the street, another cry and still an- 
other before the sergeant heard and heeded. She 
waved the scarlet muffler before the on-coming animal's 
eyes, those eyes that were so terribly near and glared 
at her so ferociously as they caught sight of the flutter- 
ing bit of scarlet. Nearer! Nearer! There was no 
time for a prayer, but a murmur, ; 'Holy mother, help 
me, "came from her lips as the girl sprang aside withthe 
nimbleness of a toreador, just as the beast lowered his 
head hardly two feet away. Turn about came the huge 
head with the red, glaring eyeballs ! Another spring away 
from the lowered horns! Then a clattering of hoofs, a 
roar of shouts and of shots filled the girl's ears, and be- 
fore she knew what had happened the bull staggered 
and fell in the very act -of turning upon her again! 
Kitty staggered and fell, too. She didn't faint, no in- 
deed, but it had all been so sudden, so quick, so awful, 
that although it was only one minute since she first saw 
the brute coming, it seemed to her a whole week of 
horror, when the danger was past, and nerves and mus- 
cles collapsed. Policeman Murphy, they told her, had 
fired the shot which brought down th-e bull, and as 
Kitty turned to thank the valiant "limb of the law" 
for saving her life, Sergeant Moran poured out his 
gratitude to brave young Kitty for saving his. Police- 
man Murphy didn't want thanks for merely doing his 
duty, he said; Kitty didn't deserve any gratitude for 


merely doing what any one would have done under the 
same circumstances, she said, and so the rescued and 
the rescuers gazed at each other for a moment in con- 
fusion. Evidently, as one of the rescuers was also a 
rescued, she would have to take her own medicine in 
taking gratitude, or else refrain from thanking her 
own rescuer. But the difficulty was gotten over with 
a hearty laugh and a still heartier handclasp, and every- 
thing that wasn't said was understood. 

Kind hands helped Kitty into the Exchange Build- 
ing, and words of praise and admiration were heaped 
upon her at every step. As she stood in the doorway, 
her trembling yet smiling lips trying to form the words, 
"Oh, please, don't! It wasn't anything much. Every- 
body would do the samel" Sergeant Moran cried, 
"Let's give three cheers and a tiger for Kitty Ma- 
loreyl" And thereupon the crowd took up theory, and 
"Three cheers and a tiger for Kitty Malorey!" rang 
out upon the mid-day air from a hundred throats. 

An hour later Kitty was at her work as usual, the dead 
bull had been removed, and no one would have known 
that anything unusual had occurred. Kitty herself was 
calmest of all, only a little pallor on the usually rosy 
cheek showing that she had passed through an ordeal 
which would have tried the nerve of the strongest man. 
Of such stuff are heroines made. Blood will tell, and 
the girl who could risk her life to save that of a fellow 
creature is worthy of the best lot which falls to woman- 
kind a husband who shall combine all the virtues, not 
omitting riches, and a place in the hearts of all who 
know her or hear of her bravery. 


AT twelve o'clock that great high noon function, the 
grand Can-Rush, begins among the packing-house men. 
Half a minute after the blowing of the whistle an army 


of men and boys surges through the gates. Every one 
is on a dead run, every one is breathing hard with the 
violence of his exertions, every one looks straight ahead 
with an earnestness which says plainer than words that 
something more than life or death is at stake. The 



problem which confronts each is, how to get his can 
filled and return to his place in thirty minutes! Hav- 
ing secured the beer, milk, coffee, tea whatever the 
"tipple" is each favors most the men rush out of doors 
to eat and drink for a few moments. The street, the 
curb, and the benches, in the sun and in the shade, are 
lined and filled with men as quickly as they can place 
themselves. When at last the cans are empty and the 
food demolished the return march begins, but now at a 
leisurely walk. 



COMMISSIONS. Fifty cents per head for cattle of all 
ages up to $12 per load. Veal calves in less than car 
lots not leas than 25 cents per head. Double deck cars 
of calves $18. Double deck car loads of hogs and sheep 
$10. Mixed car loads of stock, 50 cents per head for 
cattle, 25 cents per head for calves, 10 cents for hogs and 
sheep up to, but not to exceed, $12 per car load. Thirty 
head and over of hogs and sheep arriving at these yards 
in a single car to constitute a single load, will be charged 
$6 per car. 

LESS THAN CAR LOAD LOTS. Fifty cents per head for 
cattle, 25 cents per head for calves under thirty head 
of hogs or sheep 15 cents per head. 

INSPECTION. Hogs are inspected by a hog inspector, 
for which a charge of 10 cents per car is made; stags 
are docked 80 pounds per head, piggy sows 40 pounds 
per head. 

FEED CHARGES. Corn, $1 per bushel; timothy hay, 
$30 per ton ; prairie hay, $20 per ton, 

YARDAGE CHARGES. Cattle,25 cents per head; calves, 
15 cents per head; hogs, 8 cents per head; sheep, 5 
cents per head. 

DOCKAGE. Broken-ribbed and bruised cattle are 
docked $5 per head, dead hogs, 100 pounds and over, 
cent per pound, and less than 100 pounds, of no value. 



WHILE everybody gets a square deal at the yards, 
not every man who comes there with something for 
sale is willing to give one himself. 

One excitable man with a faculty for getting the best 
of his fellow men came to the yards the other day, and 
may be used as an illustration. This man, beside the 
failings already noted, was very positive in all his state- 
ments, and would stand by every one of them most im- 
partially, whether right or wrong. 

He brought with him to the yards a horse, which he 
thought a remarkable animal, but which he wanted to 
sell nevertheless. The horse, however, was not nearly so 
remarkable as his owner. The man expatiated at length 
upon the physical and mental attributes of the horse, 
concluding the eulogy by stating that he was seventeen 
feet high. This statement was, of course, a slip of the 
tongue, and the commission man to whom the horse 
was being offered drew his attention to the slip by say- 
ing, "You mean seventeen hands high." The correc- 
tion had to be repeated several times before the man 
succeeded in comprehending it,and whsn the difference 
between feet and hands as applied to measuring horses 
finally penetrated the ox-like covering of his brain, he 
had to stop to consider whether he really meant seven- 
teen feet or seventeen hands. At last he asked: 

"Did I say seventeen feet?" 

"That's what you said." 

"Well," he exclaimed conclusively, "then the horse 
is seventeen feet high I" 



Quotations for horses, Union Stockyards market. 

Description. Poor to Fair. Good to Choice. 

Draft horses $ 55@ 80 $110@150 

Ch unks, 1300@ 1400 1 bs 45@ 60 70@ 100 

Streeters 50@ 60 65@ 90 

Drivers 40@ 70 100@200 

General use 20 40 45@ 60 

Carriage teams 200@250 300@650 

Saddlers 30@ 75 125@200 

Plugs and rangers 4@ 10 15@ 30 

HORSE AUCTION. Although the volume of receipts are 
light they are practically steady as compared with the 
run last week, there being 1,289 arrivals and 681 ship- 
ments reported up to yesterday's closing, against 1,809 
arrivals and 685 shipments for the same period last 
week. The feature of the trade was the large number 
of finished heavy drafters on the market that sold 
around $150@212.50, the offerings being the choicest 
reported for some time, numbers considered. The bulk 
of the drafters were taken by domestic dealers for the 
eastern markets, and foreign buyers for exportation. 
The demand for extra quality blocky drafters of 1600 
@2000 pounds weight is active, but the receipts are very 
light of the extra choice kind and individual sales have 
been made in the auctions during the past three weeks 
as high as $225 for the best individual specimens. Plain 
and medium heavy horses are sluggish at $75@125. 
Drivers were in steady request at $60@185, both on 
domestic and export orders. The market opened firm 
with a large attendance of buyers and the general scale 
of prices was steady on all classes of offerings, a com- 
plete clearance being reported. 

J. B. JACKSON. Reporter, 


A CASUAL visitor passing through the yards of an 
evening would frequently have his attention drawn to 
the almost deserted pens, occupied only by a few scraggy, 
long-haired animals, and would wonder greatly if this 
was the best the great stock market could do in the way 
of provender. Such at least were the thoughts of one 
passer-by at eight of these forlorn beasts, which look 
more like the ghosts of the sleek, fat droves he expected 
to see than anything else. 

"What are these?" was his wondering query of a 
boy, a denizen of the yards, standing near. "What are 
they going to do with these?" he added. 

"Do?" answered the boy, "why, uothin'. Them's 

"Pen-holders," said the wayfarer, still unenlight- 
ened, "and pray, what are pen-holders?" 

But upon further information it becomes evident that 
this peculiar name exactly describes the office of these 
weary-looking creatures. It is an unwritten canon of the 



yards, that though the pens are open to all, no dealer shall 
take any that is not entirely empty; and two animals 
left over night in a pen suffice to hold it for use on the 
morrow; hence the mission of the "pen-holders," and 
the patient beasts who fill that position stay in the pen 
day and night, winter and summer, exposed to all 
weathers, cold, warm, dry, wet, still or breezy and 
they show it! Shaggy coated, patient eyed, accustomed 
to "take things as they come," and wearing an air of 
stoical indifference, their lot in life is laid out for them, 
and followed without question. They serve their pur- 
pose well, and "hold the fort" as effectually as would a 
loaded cannon planted there. 

It would be a breach of business etiquette which no 
commission man would think of committing to remove 
the animals or take a pen occupied by them, so the 
pen-holder "goes on forever," or until death removes 
him, when his place is promptly filled by a new recruit. 


Time, four minutes and five seconds. 

"Challenge: I, the undersigned, challenge any man 
to a beef dressing contest, fora stake of $5,000, the con- 
test to be governed by the American rules governing 
beef dressing contests, MIKE F. MUILINS. " 

THE above is the standing 
challenge which Mike F.Mul- 
lins holds out to any and 
every professional beef dresser 
in the world. Mike Mull ins, 
beef dresser for George F. 
Swift & Co., has been the 
hero and winner in many a 
beef dressing contest, in all 
.of which some of the best 
beef dressers in the United 
States have been his competi- 

A beef dressing contest is 
a s interesting, and much 
more unique, than a contest 
of fists, or any other con- 
test in which the odds are large. Besides this, it is gov- 
erned by rules as strict as any which ever regulated a 
fistic meeting of Corbett, John L., or any of their ilk. 




These rules, called the American rules governing 
beef dressing contests, read: First there shall be three 
judges, who shall be considered fair-minded and hon- 
orable men, and thoroughly acquainted with the butcher 
business Second cattle should weigh no less than 
1400 pounds. Third contestants will be allowed twen- 
ty-five minutes to dress the bullock; judges to call 
time when bullock is drawn up, front feet off and right 
hind leg broken; dresser to call time when finished. 
After dresser has called time he will not be allowed 
near the carcass or hide until judges have made their 
inspection, when, by having everything perfect, dresser 
will be credited 100 points in time of twenty-five min- 
utes, points to be considered as follows: First fifteen 
points for opening, reining and siding bullock; second 
five points for legging; third fifteen points for 
rurnping and backing; fourth fifteen points for split- 
ting; fifth ten points for clearing shank and dropping 
hide; sixth twenty points for time; seventh ten 
points for general neatness; eighth ten points for the 
condition of the hide; these constituting the 100 points 
to credit. The followings points will be deducted for 
the following defects: twenty points off for every 
minute over the allotted twenty in his favor for every 
minute less. 

Mr. Mullius' first contest took place in the Exposi- 
tion Building, Chicago, August 22, 1883, there being 
eight contestants for prizes. The first prize was a gold 
medal and was won by Mr, Mullins, At that time the 
contests were a go-as-you-please competition, a mode 
which was discontinued shortly afterward, giving place 


to the above rules. Since then Mr. Mullius has figured 
in many contests, always coming out victor, his last 
being at the World's Fair, where he clinched his repu- 
tation as the champion dresser of the world. 

To see Mullins dress a beef is a sight which even a 
layman would enjoy. His right hand with its gleam- 
ing knife glances like a streak of white lightning from 
the animal's head to his tail, performing quick maneu- 
vers which result in the bullock, freshly killed, being 
transformed into dressed beef in the twinkling of an 

This lightning rapidity is the result of natural apti- 
tude, and long years of practice, for Mr. Mullins be- 
came a butcher at the age of eighteen His first "job" 
was with Swift & Co. of this city, with whom he has 
been ever since. 

Mike Mullins is big in body and in heart, the former 
measuring six feet one inch, and weighing 195 pounds, 
and the latter having a place in it for every unfortu- 
nate fellow man whom he meets. He is always open to, 
and in good condition for, a contest. There is proba- 
bly no man at the yards more popular than genial Mike 



PROMINENTLY connected with the Underwriters' Fire 
Patrol wagon, number four, which has headquarters 
at the yards, is Jack Campaign. Jack is the proud 
owner of an enormous brown grizzly bear of mild and 
serene temper, called Pety, and a very diminutive but 
cheerful member of the hog family, known as Paddy. 

The way Jack came to have Paddy is a pathetic story, 
but put in a nutshell is simply that Paddy came into 
the world one cold January night last year with a lit- 



ter of little brothers and sisters. Their mother must 
have been of the most aggravated and extravagant type 
of the new female, for she deserted her babies as soon 
as they were born. And so when morning came the 
white souls of all the little piggies except Paddy's had 
gone to paradise, where no doubt they are now frisking 
about with the downiest of angel wings. Jack Cam- 
paign happened into the hog pen in the early morning 
just in time to save Paddy from being trodden to death 
by a great hog of the masculine gender, but not soon 
enough to save him from injuries which crippled him 
for life. In fact, while Paddy is over a year old and 
quite strong, he weighs only five pounds, and most of 
that weight comes from his head, which is fully as 
large as his body. 

Pety and Paddy both make their home in the engine 
house, where Jack spends most of his time. And what 
glorious times they do have! Pety and Paddy, although 
belonging to such totally different branches of the ani- 
mal kingdom, are nevertheless the best of friends, and 
frolic together like two kittens ;>r as nearly like kit- 
tens as bruin and piggy can come. Upon the whole 
Jack the man, Pety the bear and Paddy the pig con- 
stitute as happy, affectionate and frolicsome a family 
as can be found. They each have a number of accom- 
plishments which they can exhibit for their own and any 
chance spectator's edification. Pety can dance, per- 
haps not with so sylphlike a movement as Loie Fuller, 
but nevertheless very gracefully for a bear he can 
wrestle like a John L., turn a somersault with the ease 
of an acrobat, slide down the "post" as well as an ex- 


pert fireman, and play soldier as well as Emperor Will- 
iam. Paddy is an important member of the fire 
brigade, as far as he goes, but alas! he does not go 
far, for the poor little fellow is so sadly crippled that 
a run of a few yards with the flying patrol quite ex- 
hausts him, and he returns to the engine room. But 
Paddy, like all philosophical beings, is very cheerful in 
spite of his deficiency, and occupies himself in greeting 
visitors with a series of most cordial and pleasant grunts ; 
in fact he is a permanent reception committee, always 
coming forward to meet callers, his whole little body 
wiggling, and his brown eyes twinkling a genial wel- 
come. Jack's accomplishments well, Jack's accom- 
plishments may best be enumerated by those which are 
not rather than by tbosa which are in the list, for he 
is an aH-round entertainer, 

This trio of happy souls came very near being the 
cause of a frightful tragedy. It happened this way. 

One day Pety went over to the slaughter house at 
noon to dance for the butchers. In the middle of the 
performance a butcher, all dripping with red gore, came 
in to join the lunchers. Pety had never seen blood 
before, and, like Helen's Toddy, it excited him excess- 
ively. He looked at the butcher, deliberately stopped 
in the middle of his most taking figure,and went up to 
the gory man to snitf. Pety had never before exhib- 
ited any of the disagreeable traits of his race, but on 
this occasion he rose up and clasped the bloody butcher 
in such au extravagantly close embrace that the man 
cried out in alarm. For a second the place was in an 
uproar of excitement. Then Jack appeared, just in the 



nick of time to spare the man some broken ribs, for 
Pety always obeys Jack's voice "instanter," and "came 
off" at once. 

Pety should not be blamed too much for this display 
of his race's ferocity, for at best a man dripping with 
blood is an alarming object, and no doubt Pety imag- 
ined that the man had come to execute his (Pety's) 
friends as he had already executed numberless steers. 
At any rate he should be given the benefit of the doubt, 
for that is what Jack and Paddy think about it, and 
they ought to know. 



THE heart of the live stock industry of the world is 
the Union Stockyards, and, of course, to transmit its 
throbs as pulse-beats to the rest of the world requires 



the presence of the omnipresent reporter There are 
two of these quilldrivers, and through their good offices 
the world is informed of the doings at the yards. They 
are John R. Daley and J. B. Jackson, whose respective 
papers are the Chicago Evening Journal and the Dro- 
ver's Journal, beside which they furnish correspondence 
for outside newspapers, 

Both of these men have been at the stockyards in the 



capacity of live stock reporters for thirty years, and 
both are judges par excellence of live stock. In fact, 
they can give old stock dealers pointers on the business; 
and what they do not know about the market no one 
knows. They are now what the new generation calls 
"old" men, and are both as popular as pencil-pushers 
usually are for who ever met a set of more boon com- 
panions than the "newsmen"? They know everybody 
and everybody knows them. They have noses for news 
sharper than a terrier's for rats, and can smell a deal 
before the dealers know the terms. 

While they are in a sense competitors, they are the 
best of friends and "scoop" each other good-naturedly. 
In short, it would be a sad day for the yards should 
either of them change their "berth," so here's to them 
both, and long may they live to push the pencil. 


NOT the least important function among the packers, 
and one which must be in the hands of one who has the 
"know how, "is that of testing the hams to grade them 
for the market. There are three of these grades, No. 1 


being, of course, the sweetest and choicest and bringing 
the highest prices; No. 2, somewhat inferior and sold 
for less money; and No. 3, which, like charity, covers 
a multitude of sins, and sometimes includes specimens 
which, as Gus says, should be called 83. When asked 
what becomes of the 83, he said they are sent to South 
Chicago, where they are esteemed as a great delicacy in 



the Bohemian and Polish settlements, whose inhabit- 
ants probably prefer vintage of '33 ham, just as other 
people like Rip van Winkle liquors. 

Gus is a lightning expert at this business, and tests 
about 1,000 hams a day. He has a very fine piece of 
steel, over a foot in length, and anything Gus 
sticks his steel into musi satisfy his fastidious judg- 
ment or he marks it down. These hams are exported 
to all parts of the globe and must "stand fire," as this 
trade is sought for. In fact, the office of ham testing 
is quite as responsible as those of wine and tea testing, 
and requires quite as nice a sense of distinctions. 

The meat canning and preserving establishment of 
Libby, McNeil & Libby is the largest in the country. 
All kinds of meat are canned and preserved by them 
and shipped to every part of the world. Their canning 
factory and tin shop are among the most interesting 
sights of the stockyards. Some idea of the magnitude 
of their plant may be gained from the knowledge that 
two car loads of tin and 4,000 pounds of solder are used 
daily in the manufacture of the tins used on their 
canned products. A remarkable machine in the tin 
shop, and the only one in existence, solders the top and 
bottom on 35,000 rectangular shaped cans per day, 
as they pass through it in a continuous stream. It is 
the invention of Mr. Charles H. Emery, General Super- 
intendent for Libby, McNeil & Libby, to whom he sold 
the patent rights on the machine. 



PREJUDICE against butterine exists only in the minds 
of the uninformed. Butteriue is even supposed by 
squeamish individuals to be somehow nasty, although if 
questioned as to their reason for this supposition they 
are put to it for an answer. As a matter of fact, this 
prejudice is one of those popular superstitious which 
live on ignorance, the miasma of intellectual swamps. 

Analyze butterine by the nicest chemical tests and 
you find in it only the purest and most nutritious ele- 
ments; examine its manufacture and the neatast house- 
wife would delight in places and processes so immacu- 
late. There is no secret connected with the manufacture 
of butterine. Every factory in the Union Stockyards 
is wide open for public inspection, and indeed, so far 
above public expectation is the management of the 
factories that it is entirely to their interest to help 


the public to examine into their methods, With that 
self-interest in VIBW which actuates every one, guides 
are furnished visitors in their tours of inspection 

Government officials superintend the manufacture 
of the butterine at these factories and thus its purity, 
wholesomeness and correct weight are assured. Butter- 
ine, as turned out by the Chicago factories, is composed 


of butter, butter oil, neutral lard and oleooil. The butter 
ingredient is Elgin creamery butter, and butter made 
at the factory from Jersey cream; the butter oil, 
which is used in small quantitiea to soften the text- 
ure of the butterine is a pure and nutritious vege- 
table oil made by pressing the oil from the American 
cottonseed; neutral lard is a pure, chilled leaf lard, 
rendered at a low temperature and then left in a cold 
bath for forty-eight hours to remove all its flavor; while 
oleo oil is a product of the choicest beef fat, chilled in ice 


water and melted, and from this is extracted a soluble oil 
from which every particle of stearine is removed. Oleo oil 
is the only beef product used in butterine. All of these 
ingredients, with the addition of salt, are carefully 
churned and worked together, the result being one of the 
most wholesome food products on the market, and sold 
under its own nomenclature is as legitimatj a product 
as butter. 

Butterine is generally spoken of as a substitute for 
and competitor of butter, but why it should be more so 
than pumpkin pie is a substitute for and competitor of 
apple pie is not apparent. It does not appear to have 
injured the butter market. What it actually has done 
to a large extent, and, it is to be hoped, will eventually 
do entirely, is to drive bad butter out of the market. 
Why should a poor man eat bad butter when he can get 
good butterine at a lo.ver price, which is also an econ- 
omy in quantity of one-third when used in cooking. 

There was a time in the history of butterine when 
it was possible to sell it for genuine butter, and because 
this was frequently done the public conceived the idea 
that butterine, or oleomargarine as it was then popu- 
lary called, would not sell on its own merits. The publi c 
was mistaken. No better legislation for the manufacture 
of butterine could have been enacted than that which 
prohibited the sale of oleomargarine under the name of 
butter. The manufacturer had an article of which he 
had no reason to be ashamed, and the noise of special leg- 
islation against his product served to advertise its mer- 
its, to his great advantage. Indeed, so far has the preju- 
dice against butteriue been overcome since then, that at 


a recent state fair at Mansfield, Ohio,butterine contested 
with Jersey butter for the blue ribbon, and won. 

Although butterine is the name generally used to des- 
ignate this product, it is possible that in the near 
future oleomargarine will be the name seen on the 
packages of butteriue, it having been recently urged by 
the opponents of butterine, and agreed to by the gov- 
ernment, that butterine is a name calculated to deceive 
the public into taking it for a product of the dairy, 


especially as a cow is frequently used as a trademark. 
This will in no wise injure the butterine trade, how- 
ever, for the words oleomargarine and butterine have 
long been accepted as synonymous by the general pub- 
lic, thanks to the extensive advertising afforded by ad- 
verse legislation. So the only result will be to banish 
the euphonious word butterine from the language, and 
give the gentle Jersey a chance to withdraw from lending 
her countenance to a product for which she is in no 
wise responsible. 



OF all the various businesses with which the Union 
Stockyards are connected, none are more interesting or 
picturesque than that of cattle raising on the western 
plains The ranch is the cradle for the stockyards, as 
it were, the nursery where the calf is fatted for slaugh- 

The ranch as an institution is practically the same 
whether found in Texas, Montana, or the intermediate 
states. Texas is, of course, the birthplace if the 
expression may be allowed of the ranch. From that 
state the business spread to nearly all the western states, 
until, during the early eighties, nearly the entire West 
was simply a great cow pasture. Now, however, there 
are only a dozen or so of states in which the ranch has 
a place, prominent among which are Texas, New Mex- 



ico, Arizona, Wyoming, Montana, the Dakotas, Indian 
Territory, Washington, Colorado, Idaho and Oregon. 

One of the great factors in the cattle trade is the 
great amount of western cattle, "rangers," as they are 
called in stockyards phraseology, which come to market 
during the months of August, September, October and 
November. During these months the northwestern 
states furnish the greater amount of beef cattlo. These 
cattle are bred mostly in the southern states and ter- 
ritories Texas, Indian Territory and Arizona furnish- 
ing the bulk of them. The cattle are driven North 
when they are two-year-olds and allowed to run on gov- 
ernment lands for two years. The change of climate 
and the sweet grass of the North increases their size 
and quality. Western rangers are now furnishing to 
the Chicago market during the fall most of the bsef 
and export cattle used here. Sevent\ T -five per cent of all 
the range cattle come to the Union Stockyards. Some 
idea of the close relations existing between the stock- 
yards and the ranch may be formed when it is said 
that nearly $15,000,000 are advanced in a year by the 
live stock commissioners at Chicago on the growing 
crop of fall steers,yearlings, etc., which are running wild 
and getting fat in unconscious anticipation of bringing 
good prices and paying off their owners' debt. This is 
a rnild form of the great mortgage evil which envel- 
oped the planters of the South before the war, whose 
cotton crops were mortgaged to their full value every 
year before the crop was ripe, 

However,the conditions existing at the present time 
in the cattle business are favorable for a boom. 


The last government live stock report gives the num- 
ber of cattle, not including milk cows, in this country 
in January as 32,085,000 This is the smallest num- 
ber known since 1880, being 2,279,000 head less than 
last year. 

The following will give an idea of the number of cat- 
tle now in some of the principal range and agricultural 
states of the West: Texas, 5,518,644; Iowa, 2,336,973; 
Kansas, 1,766,245; Missouri, 1,686,990; Illinois, 1,430,- 
976; Montana,!, 153,537; Nebraska, 162,469; Wyoming, 
751,849; Colorado, 926,960; South Dakota, 399,814; 
North Dakota, 255,509. These numbers do not include 
dairy cattle. 

All those now in the cattle business will remem- 
ber the sudden rise in the price of cattle in the 
spring of 1880. During the winter of that year Texas 
yearlings were contracted for at $8 and $9 per head, 
while the following spring they found a ready sale for 
$13 and $14 at Dodge City. Between that time and 
1886 there was an enormous boom in range cattle, 
English capitalists in particular investing heavily in 
western interests. The capitalists and country were 
new to each other, while ranging cattle was as new an 
experience to the Englishmen as breeding horses would 
be to the Eskimos. The result was inevitable; many 
of them returned to their own country little more than 
paupers in purse, but with a large reserve fund of ex- 
perience upon which their sons have since drawn to 

Since then the cattle business has dropped back onto 
the skillful, experienced American, where it properly be- 



longs,and froin whom the foreigners purchased it. There 
is now, as then, plenty of idlecapitai, particularly in 
Europe, to invest in the now well understood enterprise 
of raising cattle, and experience will make the profits 
sure and lessen the risks. 

At that time beef cattle were not bringing any better 
prices than now, when the average prices for good steers 
is $86 per head. The country was then, as now, recover- 
ing from a terrible financial panic, and the restoration 
of confidence ushered in an era of almost reckless in- 


vestment of money. Many a lesson will the failures 
of that time furnish the investors of the near future. 
One of the sources of loss to tho cattlemen of the past 
and present is being somewhat abated, though by no 
means as rapidly or effectually as might bi expected. 
This is the loss from the ravages of Indians, wolves and 
coyotes. These three pests are harder on cattle than 
the hardest Montana winter. There is actually no 



defense against Indians, for they scout almost all over 
the country, and swooping down on the unprotected 
cattle, kill the choicest and carry off the loins, leaving 
the remainder of the carcass for the buzzards. 
Sometimes eighty or a hundred head of cattle have been 
found slaughtered at one time in this way. The ranch- 
man has no means of redress, and simply endures what 
he cannot cure. Against the wolves, however, he may 
fight and vent his irritation. Not that it does much good, 


for the wolf seems proof against poison and is not found 
napping often enough to make it easy to pick him off 
with bullets. The favorite way now is to put out a carcass 
and then patiently wait for darkness to bring the wolves 
to devour it The gleam of their eyes makes good targets 
and the cowboys amuse themselves in shooting the hun- 
gry beasts. There is also a bounty offered by each state of 
$8 for every wolf scalp, and this reward is a better in- 
centive than any other to the range rider to keep a bul- 



let always ready for the pestiferous beast. Many of the 
range riders also keep packs of greyhounds and stag- 
hounds with which to destroy them. Indeed, riding 
the range with hounds is as effectual as any method yet 
tried for the extermination of the wolves, and many a 
calf and colt that would otherwise meet an early death 
by coyotes, and cow and horse that might suffer an ab- 
breviated career by timber wolves, will thus be spared 
to the owner's profit. 


A point of advantage which the cattlemen of the 
present have over those of the past is in the breed of cattle 
raised. The old fashioned, long horned Texas steers are 
becoming extinct by inbreeding with Shorthorns, Here- 
fords, Durhams and Polled Angus. In fact, as good 
specimens of these breeds as can be seen anywhere are 
now being shipped from the southwestern states to 
Chicago. The quality of the cattle raised throughout 
the West is being raised, and this is an advantage in 


that these well-bred animals dress far more lhan thj 
old style common ones. 

Another point of immunity from Joss now enjoyed 
by cattlemen is found in the inspection of brands at 
the markets. The time was when the theft, or "rus- 
tling," as it was called, of hundreds of heads of cattle, 
formed a serious loss to the owners, while bringing 
small fortunes each year to the thieves, who could ship 
the stolen cattle to any market with impunity. Now 


the presence of inspectors appointed by the state 
boards of stock commissioners at the different markets 
renders such thefts practically impossible. The in- 
spectors at the Union Stockyards handle the business 
in a manner which is nearly perfect. Some idea of the 
magnitude of the business may be gained when it is 
said that Chief Inspector J. H. Landers for Montana at 
the Union Stockyards has received and disbursed bun- 



dreds of thousands of dollars from the sale of stolen 
and strayed cattle on the eastern markets. A large 
proportion of this money has gone to the owners of a 
few head of cattle whose cattle got mixed up with a 
big outfit and were sent to market without the owners' 
knowledge. But the inspectors caught them, and, if 
the owner had his brand registered, he received his 


money almost as soon as if he had shipped the cattle 
himself. Of the money received for estrays but a small 
proportion has been turned into the state, and even 
where it has, if a man can prove by the records that 
money belonging to him from the sale of one stray steer 
has gone into the treasury, it is never too late for him 
to recover it. 

Mr. Landers is judge, jury and law on this subject 



at the Union Stockyards, Chicago, and the qualifica- 
tions required to fill the position are such as have not 
been bestowed upon every one, The work of tracing 
brands alone will be seen to be no small task when it 
is known that Montana alone has 15,000 different 

Until the present time Texas has had almost a mo- 


nopoly of the business of furnishing cattlemen of other 
states with the young steers with which to re-stock 
their ranches It is now evident that Texas alone can- 
not supply this demand in the future, and it is probable 
that Arizona, Washington and Idaho combined will 
soon equal Texas, as she now ranks, as a source for this 

With this change and with the comparatively recent 



introduction of the railroad into the West, one of the 
most picturesque features of cattle ranging has been 
abandoned. That was the existence of the "great trail" 
to the North, over which thousands of cattle might be 
seen every year slowly grazing their way northward. 
There was a time, not so long ago, when to bring cattle 


North in this manner was a lucrative business by itself. 
But that time is past, for the steel trail now answers 
all the purposes at less cost. 

Ogalalla was, for a Jong time, the delivery station of 
these herds from the South, and there the attendant 
cowboys from Texas relinquished their charge, which 
was at once assumed by the boys of the North and 
West. But the "van of empire" westward took its 


way, and with it, came the men of brawn who pre- 
empted the site of the great highway between North and 
South and transformed it into fields of golden grain 
The trail was moved west, farther west and westward 
again, the plowshare obliterating it each time, until 
one day a snorting steam monster sped across the plains, 
drawing behind it a serpentine line of cars filled with 
cattle. Thenceforth the "great trail" was only a 
memory to cattlemen, and, possibly, a regret to the 
cattle who were transferred in the uncomfortable modern 
way, so harrowing that the ghosts of their ancestors 
must have stampeded from the place. The old Chis- 
holm trail and Furkey track are places of the past, and 
the stormy adventures of early pioneer days associated 
with them are mere seldom recalled memories. 

From those early days date the cowboys. The cowboy 
has been described as a man attached to a pair of gigan- 
tic spurs, a being who is a hybrid of man and horse, a 
sort of inferior Centaur, in fact. The duty of the cow- 
boys requires them to be nearly always in the saddle. 
Twice a year occur the great occasions of their most 
arduous labors, the grand round-up. Then the cowboy 
is seen in all the glory of complete accouterments and 
active accomplishments. The round-up is the techni- 
cal term for the great semi-annual cattle branding. 
The preliminary step toward the round-up is for all the 
cowboys of each ranch to round up their loose ponies, 
of which each cowboy has from six to ten, and get 
them in order "for the fray.'' Each having selected 
the pony which he desires to ride, the remainder are 
turned over for safe keeping to a gentleman known as 



the "horse wrangler. " It is the duty of the horse wran- 
gler to keep the ponies together in the vicinity of the 
mess wagon, ready for the cowboys' use. Mess wagon 
and wrangler then start for the prospective scene of the 
round-up, while the cowboys ride out to a circle of fifty 
miles in diameter. Whatever happens to be within this 
radius at the time is rounded up that is, driven to the 


center. It may be late at night before the cattle are 
quietly grazing on the plains about the mess wagon, and 
the hungry cowboys are squatted down about the fire 
greedily devouring their broiled beef and drinking their 
hot coffee. The beef, by the \vay, is obtained by shoot- 
ing the first fat bullock which captures the cowboys' 
eyes, a liberty which is accorded them without ques- 
tion by the owners. 
During the night the cattle are guarded carefully, 


four shifts of cowboys taking turns in this nocturnal 
watch. At night there is always danger of a stampede, 
the breaking of a twig, a saddled pony shaking himself, 
a rabbit running by in the moonlight, or a clap of thun- 
der during a storm being all that is needed to start the 
cattle to their feet and send them galloping wildly 
across the prairies. Then there is only one thing to 
do; the cattle must be '"milled" until tired out. Sev- 
eral of the speediest riders head oft' the leaders of the 
stampede, turning them until the whole great herd is 
galloping in a circle,which is constantly narrowed until 
the cattle are tired out and stop in a bunch. This is 
the method to which the cowboys have given the ex- 
pressive name of milling To prevent a stampede at 
night the cowboys on guard usually sing and whistle, 
thus making noise enough to rob a sudden sound of the 
grewsomeness which darkness always gives it, even to 
the human ear. 

The morning after the round-up the work begins of 
"cutting out" the calves to be branded. Each cowboy 
selects a maverick, and riding into the herd "cuts him 
out," lassos him and turns him over to the brander, 
who inflicts momentary torture on the animal with his 
hot iron. It rnay be explained in passing that maverick 
was once a proper noun. It was the name of an old 
Dutch ranchman who had a standing aversion, arising 
either from negligence or principle, to branding his 
stock. And so the cowboys came to call all cattle with- 
out a brand "mavericks. " 

This is supposed to be a spring round-up, occurring 
about the first of March. Six months later a fall, or 



"beef round-up, " takes place, when the calves missed 
in the spring are branded. The cattle intended for ship- 
ment are then cut out, and put on the trail leading to 
the nearest shipping point, being driven along at the 
slow rate of ten miles a day and allowed to graze by the 
way, thus arriving at the shipping station fat and in 
good condition. When the cattle are on board the train 


the cowboys are paid off. Some of the old hands are 
kept on the pay roll, while the others must "rustle for 
themselves" until next spring that is, "sweat out," 
work for their board or "go visiting," riding the 
"chuck line." 

Cowboys are not the hard characters they are generally 
supposed to be. Many of them save their money and 


soon have ranches of their own or in partnership. 
Others, however, make for the nearest town and throw 
their money away on "rot-gut" whisky, sold at a high 
price, staying in town until their season's earnings are 
dissipated in dissipation. Card playing, particularly 
the game of "coon-can," and stag dances are the prin- 
cipal amusements of the cowboys. There are always 


some among them who can sing, or own and thrum 
on some instrument, and these accomplished individ- 
uals are in great demand. Frequently, in the old days, 
there was a liberal sprinkling of penniless "younger 
sons" of aristocratic old European families, but, sad 
to relate, their fast habits counterbalanced any good 
effects which their higher education might have had 



on the rough-and-tumble, quick tempered, big hearted 
sons of the wild and woolly West. 

But the spurred and sombreroed cowboy will soon be 
only a stirring memory of the past, going the way of 
the "great trail." For civilization and the granger are 
moving West, and soon there will be no ranges to ride, 
the great wild plains becoming pastures enclosed by 
wire fences, and the daring range riders becoming civ- 
ilized, heavy footed, bewhiskered farmers, or, to save 
themselves from such a fate, attach ing themselves to the 
only Wild West which will soon remain Buffalo Bill's. 




RAISING horses on the western plains is, if possible, 
an even more interesting industry than that of rais- 
ing cattle. 

The first range horse was the bronco, as the Mexi- 
cans call their little wild horses. The name has be- 
come so indissolubly attached, in the American mind, 
with a fractious untamed horse from the West, that 
bronco is now to most people merely another name for 
an equine incorrigible, just as arab is now a synonym 
for a little vagrant of the streets. 

A few years ago these little Mexican and Texan ponies, 
or broncos, could be bad foj a mere song, and con- 
sequently they were purchased by the thousands and let 
loose to roam the western ranges. The ranchmen paid 
no attention to qualit} 7 in breeding. The one consid- 
eration which occupied their minds was that of quan- 
tity; if the ponies multiplied rapidly they were satis- 
fied. As a result there were shipped to market, lota 
of wretched, inbred little brutes called horses, animals 



which were unbroken (not to say unbreakable), unruly, 
fit for neither harness nor saddle, and hardly worth the 
cost of shipping. 

During the last five or six years, however, strenuous 
efforts have been made to cull out these scrubs and in- 
troduce better blood. In fact, the Mexican bronco is 
following the Texas steer to extinction by inbreeding 
with better stock. 

J. S Cooper, of the Chicago horse market, who has 
had as much experience with western horses as any 
man living, says that the time has come when range 
horses with a light brand (the brand which is burned 
in deeply being a disfigurement) will sell to better ad- 
vantage than ever before. During the last six years the 
ranches have, generally, become the property of ex- 
periencedranchmen,to whom all breeds of horses and the 
wants of the country in that line are thoroughly famil- 
iar, and who by judicious breeding to first-class draft, 
carriage and hackney stallions, have produced stock 
which will compare favorably with horses raised any- 
where in the middle West. The great trouble in the past 
was that the ranchmen shipped in such wild horses by 
the carloads, that they had to be sold in carload lots,un- 
haltered. A great deal of money was lost in this way. 
The coming range consignments will be thoroughly 
worked animals, broken to harness, and fit for any pur- 
pose. The common horse of eastern production is now 
less durable for working purposes than the ranch horse, 
the latter having better feet and greater endurance 
than the former, although heretofore the range horses 
shipped East were so small and nervous that breaking 


them to harness usually broke their hearts. But the 
revolution or should \ve say evolution? of the range 
horse is now as complete as the change in range cattle. 
They have been graded up to such a fine point that the 
days of the bronco are over forever on most of the great 

Mr. Cooper's advice to ranchmen is to "go on and 
breed, paying particular attention to the draft horses, 
which are selling for as much now as five or six years 
ago; also avoid a large brand, as a glaring brand on 
a horse is as bad in its way as the brand of Cain on a 
man." Mr. Cooper is himself a large breeder, and has 
great faith in the future of the breeding industry, the 
bicycle to the contrary notwithstanding. 

The range horse is a creature of beauty on his native 
heath, wild, strong and fleet as the prairie winds. 
Horses do not herd as cattle do, by the hundreds and 
thousands, but in groups of from twenty-five to forty. 
At the head of each group is a stallion, the lord of the 
family, the king of his harem of mares. Standing up- 
on a distant eminence and looking down upon the great 
plains, it is a pretty sight to see the hundreds of small 
herds quietly grazing near each other but never by any 
chance mingling. On the outside of each little herd 
grazes the great stallion who is the pater familias, his 
watchful eye and keen scent quick to detect the ap- 
proach of danger. At the first approach of an enemy 
every stallion, by some secret communication with his 
herd, gallops across the plains, followed by his family, 
which trusts to his guidance and protection with filial 
confidence. Frequently, when the herds are grazing 


quietly, a wily stallion will try to recruit his own herd 
by "cutting out" a filly or young horse from some other 
herd. The stallion of the robbed herd never allows such 
depredations without at least an attempt to recover the 
stolen member of his family, and pursues the thief and 
his prey into the very heart of the enemy's camp. Some- 
times he is so successful that he not only brings back 
the victim, but cuts out a filly belonging to the enemy. 
It is the story of the Sabine women acted over again, 
with a little just retaliation added. Indeed, any skeptic 
of equine intelligence has but to spend a day on the 
plains, and he will not only be convinced but amazed 
at the horse's sagacity. In fact, to sit on a hill-top 
and watch the maneuvers of these wild horses of the 
plains is a far more thrilling sight than to view the 
tricks of the best string of circus horses that ever danced 
to music 


ONE of the most rational fashions of the day is expert 
driving and riding. There are very few ladies or gen- 
tlemen of the present generation who do not under- 
stand, or at least attempt to understand, the skillful 
handling of the reins. And there can be no more rea- 
sonable and healthful recreation. 

It is not every one who understands instinctively how 
to drive well, nor can every one sit his horse like a 
centaur. Correct teaching, however, will go far toward 
accomplishing those results; without it they will be as 
impossible as astronomy without mathematics. It is 
the object of this article to provide the amateur driver 
and rider with a few simple rules by the application 
and practice of which he may lay the foundation for 
the much admired skill. First, let us talk about the 
four-in-hand, the revival of interest in which promises 
to be a long-lived fad, as popular as it deserves to be. 

To begin with, do not attempt to drive a four-in-hand 
if you are not sure of your head. No amount of tech- 
nical skill in the driver nor training in the horses will 
compensate, in an emergency, for lack of complete self- 
possession. The second essential is a thoroughly com 
petent teacher, a coachman who is as much at home on 
the box as a sailor is on deck. He, if he be conscientious, 
will soon be able to tell you if you have the courage 






and coolness, decision and judgment,strength and flexi- 
bility of hand and powers of endurance necessary to 
become a successful four-in-hand driver. Of course, if 
his verdict is negative, there is yet no law to prevent 
you from drilling yourself to acquire the necessary 
qualities, and it is said that nothing is impossible to 
those who will. You may practice with Indian clubs, 
dumb-bells, sculls and on the horizontal bars to devel- 
op your muscle (indeed, muscle is indispensable to the 
four-in-hand driver), and by all sorts of athletic ex- 
ercises develop your strength and courage. 

Assuming, however, that the pupil has the necessary 
physical attributes, and thoroughly understands how 
to command a coach and pair, the first lesson will con- 
sist in learning how to sit en the box. The position of 
the driver of a four-in-hand is more important than 
that of the driver of any other sort of carriage. He 
must not stand almost upright, as was once the fashion, 
nor must he assume the attitude of a lady driving a 
pony phaeton, for upon his readiness to exert his ut- 
most strength and weight at a moment's notice, to 
prevent the horses from bolting, falling or any other 
mishap, depends the safety of his party, who have a 
right to expect his utmost care. The best way to learn 
this is for the pupil to sit quietly by the side of the 
teacher during the first few lessons, and, without touch- 
ing the reins, observe how he conducts himself. There 
is much to be learned in this way, as you will soon see. 
Notice how he seats himself, handles the reins, holds 
the whip and commands his horses. It looks so simple, 
and he does it so easily, that you will probably fancy 








that you know all about it after the first outing. That 
is the time for you to be humble; if you aren't then 
you soon will be. 

When you fully realize the responsibilities of the 
driver you may take the reins, placing and retaining 
them in proper position and at the right length, so that 
you can pull up your team at any moment. When 
your arm is tired, do not try to prove your endurance 
by keeping the reins. You will not learn nearly so 
much in a painfully long lesson as in a number of short 
ones. The following lessons should be devoted to learn- 
ing how to start, stop and turn. Several weeks' daily 
practice will be required to do this properly. The 
teacher must, under no circumstances, allow the pupil 
to attempt more until he can perform these elementary 
movements mechanically, instantaneously and accur- 
ately. It is well enough to begin to practice with an 
old team which has learned to obey the least indication 
from the driver, thereby doing his hardest work for 
him; but a man is not a coachman until he can manage, 
stop, turn and hold fresh and fiery horses,notall of the 
same temperament. 

When you have mastered starting, turning right and 
left, going straight on level ground (only level ground 
is allowable during the first lessons), stopping and, of 
course, retaining the reins always in proper position, 
then descending steep hills may be carefully practiced, 
remembering to drive slowly over the tops of hills, both 
large and small. During all this time you must be form- 
ing the habit of never mounting the box without having 
fully satisfied yourself that every horse is harnessed 







and bitted properly. Then mount the box deliberately, 
take your seat,adjust the apron and the reins, taking 
care to have the leaders so in hand that when they move 
they will be out of the collars and clear of the splinter 
bars. Be sure that the horses stand still until you give 
the word to start, never giving the word until you are 
ready The sight of a driver hanging on to his reins 
while trying to seat himself is undignified, not to say 
ludicrous. Allowing the horses to start before the word 
is given is one of those slovenly habits against which 
all drivers must guard unless they wish to acquire a 
bad style. Mounting on the run is no doubt very proper 
for the driver of a stage coach making time across the 
western wilderness, but polite society taboos such ex- 
hibitions of skill. 

All this probably sounds simple enough, but only 
continual and diligent practice will enable the pupil to 
become an expert whip. How the wheelers should start 
and turn the coach without the leaders feeling their 
traces, when to put on the drags, how to regulate the 
pace, how to drive well and yet find time for the pleas- 
ures of the coaching party, are all points which require 
care and long practice to acquire. 

And now as to horsemanship. Among other things 
we have to thank the warriors for introducing horse- ' 
manship into Europe. The art by which Alexander 
the Great was enabled to win his great battles after 
the conquest of Persia, and the consequent introduc- 
tion of Persian cavalry into his army, has since be- 
come one of the most delightful pastimes known to 
Europe and America. It is due to the use of horseman- 








ship in battle that the custom of mounting and dis- 
mounting on the left side was established. And what 
has always been a necessity to the warrior with his 
sword has since become a point of equestrian eti- 

A prescription which is quite as common with fash- 
ionable physicians as change of air is horse exercise. It 
is a famous remedy for liver trouble, derangement of 
the stomach, and affections arising from exhaustive 
mental and sedentary pursuits. Many of the latter 
class, both men and women, have never been on the 
back of a horse in their lives, and know about as much 
about it as a fish knows about sailing a ship. For this 
class, a few principles are laid down here, which will 
be found particularly useful to beginners who are un- 
able to have a teacher. 

That the pupil has a suitable horse, one with a good, 
placid temper, who does not shy, bolt or stumbJe, is 
presupposed. Only such a horse is suitable for a be- 
ginner. A course of mild gymnastics is the best prepa- 
ration possible for the would-be equestrian ; it accus- 
toms him to action, develops physical tenacity, and 
relieves him of timidity, of which he is likely to have 
a superfluity at first. First of all, let the pupil never 
forget that his first lessons must be short, or he will 
grow tired, and, nine times out of ten, thus miss the 
real delight and exhilaration which riding always gives 
to the true horseman and horsewoman. The saddle 
must be placed on the middle of the horse's back, and 
the rider must sit in the middle of the saddle, or both 
horse and rider will soon grow tired and sore and sore 





means such soreness as he has never experienced be- 
fore, unless he has fallen from a fourth story window 
and survived the shock. He must sit neither on his fork 
nor on the end of the spine, but on the two bones of 
the pelvis, or sitting bones, which nature gave man for 
his proper seat. It is, of course, more difficult for a 
short, fleshy person to find the proper seat than for one 
more perfectly proportioned. Indeed, in riding the ad- 
vantage of being an Adonis or Venus consists of some- 
thing more than the mere ability to attract admiration, 
for the "form divine" seems to adapt itself far more 
readily to the saddle than the one which is too broad 
or too slender. A rule which generally determines the 
straightness of the rider's seat is that he or she can, if 
seated in the middle of the horse's back, see straight be- 
tween the animal's ears. A series of illustrations are 
given herewith, which show better than words can 
the correct positions in mounting, for both a lady and 
a gentleman. The illustrations are of two famous 
English riders who were noted in their own day for 
model horsemanship, and since then there has been no 
change in horsemanship on the points which their fig- 
ures are here called upon to illustrate. 

Having, by continuous practice and close attention to 
details, obtained a firm seat and proper balance, the 
pupil may proceed to study the science of guiding his 
horse. A correct and stylish way for either man or 
woman to hold double reins in one hand is shown in 
the illustration on page 292, while holding double reins 
in both hands is shown in the succeeding cut. A sin- 
gle rein, with a very fresh or pulling horse, may prop- 
























erly be held in the full grasp of both hands. The prin- 
cipal point to be observed in holding the reins is to 
hold them smoothly and flatly. Remember also to han- 
dle the reins as if they were silken threads which a pull 
would break; under no circumstances pull them (unless 
with a fractious horse), but give to the horse's head 
as though the arms were elastic. A heavy handed rider 
is an affliction to a horse against which he may be par- 
doned for "fighting," while the light hand yields so 
readily to his mouth that the bit never hurts him. 

The pupil should be able to take and maintain a cor- 
rect and firm seat in fact, should feel that he is one 
with his horse before he attempts a gait more rapid 
than a walk. This done to the satisfaction of the critic, 
a canter may be attempted; when the canter is mas- 
tered without losing the seat, correct position, good 







management of the reins, and self-possession, the pupil 
may try the trot. The trot is one of the most difficult 
of paces, and while practice of trotting develops a good 
seat, it should be remembered that to trot badly is as 
much a proof of a poor horseman (or horsewoman) as to 
trot well is a mark of a good one. Galloping and then 
the leap follow naturally as the next steps in acquiring 
the art of riding. In this day of "wild" riding it is as 
indispensable for a rider to be able to take a leap coolly 
as it is for a danseuse to pirouette gracefully. 

Good riding is an accomplishment of which any man 
or woman might be proud, nevertheless there are re- 
markably few perfect riders of either sex. Equestrian- 
ism, however, is annually increasing in popularity, and 
now it is as much a part of a child's education to learn 
to ride as it is to learn to dance. 


How to Cure Corns Corns are caused by bad shoe- 
ing, or from allowing the shoe to wear too long without 
reshoeing, and also from having too much of the foot 
taken off. My remedy, by which I have never yet 
failed to effect a permanent cure, is as follows: 

Send for your blacksmith, have the shoes pulled off, 
the feet pared and then poulticed until they are as soft 
as jelly. Call the blacksmith again, have the corns cut 
down to the quick, extract the cores of the corns by 
means of a pair of small pinchers, and then apply spir- 
its of salts to eat away any remnants of the cores which 
may remain. 

By this time the foot has been so much reduced that 
time must be allowed for a new growth of the foot, 
which may be satisfactorily and quickly attained by 
placing the foot of the patient in blue clay for three 
weeks, or more if necessary. If these directions are 
followed a new foot and a permanent cure will be the 
results; and although it takes time you should remem- 
ber that anything worth having is worth waiting for. 
Rubber pads, and bar shoes will help a horse tempora- 
rily only, but will keep him going in a cramped way. 
But if you are impatient you can take your choice be- 
tween quickness and thoroughness. 

Quarter Cracks Quarter crack can be cured, or 



rather grown out, if properly treated. First apply a 
bar shoe, rasping away the bearing surface of the de- 
tached portion of the heel, so as to bring no pressure 
upon it. Then secure immobility of the walls of the 
crack, either with quarter-crack clamps, or, in their ab- 
sence, by driving two or three small horseshoe nails 
through the edge of the crack and clinching so as to 
hold the edges firmly together. Apply an active blister 
to the coronet to favor a more rapid growth of the horn. 
Allow the horse to rest with only walking exercise, un- 
til an unbroken hoof has grown down from the hair a 
distance of at least one-half to three-fourths of an inch. 
This will require four to five weeks. When the hoof 
has grown down as directed, a V-shaped notch is to be 
cut to the quick at the upper end of the crack to pre- 
vent the crack extending upward. The horse may now 
be used carefully at a moderate speed if desirable. 
Continue the use of the bar shoe, with the pressure re- 
moved from that heel until the crack has grown off. 

Tonic Ball Ginger, 2 drachms; gentian, 1 drachm; 
Peruvian bark, % ounce; fenugreek, ^ ounce, Mix, 
and form a ball. 

Diuretics Take of balsam copaiba, 2 ounces; sweet 
spirits of niter, 3 ounce; spirits of turpentine, 2 ounces; 
oil of juniper, 2 ounces; tincture of camphor, 2 ounces. 
Mix; shake the bottle before pouring the medicine. Dose 
for adult horse: Two tablespoonsful in a pint of milk, 
repeated every four to six hours, if necessary. This is 
a reliable preparation for kidney difficulties. 

Cough Mixtures Take of alcohol \ pint; balsam 


of fir, 2 ounces. Mix well, and add all the tar it will 
cut. Shake well before using. Dose, from one to two 
teaspoonsful two or three times a day. 

Nasal Gleet No. 1. Copperas,2 ounces; pulverized 
gentian, 3 ounces; elecampane, 1 ounce; linseed meal, 
3 ounces. Mix, and give from half to one tablespoon- 
ful twice a day. No. 2. Aloes, 6 ounces; pulverized 
nux vomica, 3 drachms; flaxseed meal, 4 ounces. Make 
into eight powders, and give one or two each day. 

Cracked Heels Tar, 8 ounces; beeswax, 1 ounce; 
rosin, 1 ounce; alum 1 ounce; tallow, 1 ounce; sulphate 
of iron, 1 ounce; carbolic acid.l drachm. Mix, and boil 
over a slow fire. Skim off the filth, and add 2 ounces 
of the scrapings of sweet elder. 

Thrush No. 1. Wash the feet well, with castile 
soap and water, and sprinkle a small quantity of pul- 
verized blue vitriol in the cleft; then fill up all the cav- 
ities with cotton, press it in so as to keep out all dirt, 
and repeat as often as necessary until the cure is com- 
plete. No. 2. Blue vitriol and copperas, of each 1 ounce ; 
burnt alum, 2 ounces; white vitriol, ^ ounce. Mix. 

Cordial Balls No. 1. Anise,powdered, ounce; gin- 
ger, 1 drachm ;gentian, 1 drachm; fenugreek, 2 drachma. 
Mix. No. 2. Caraway and ginger, each, 2 drachms; 
anise, gentian and fenugreek, each, 1 ounce. Mix. No. 
3. Camphor, 1 drachm; anise, 3 drachms; flaxseed 
meal, 1 ounce; powdered extract of liquorice, 3 drachms; 
tincture of opium, 1 ounce. Mix. 

Astringent and Cordial No. 1. Opium, 12 grains; 
camphor, drachm; catechu, 1 drachm. Mix. No. 2. 


Opium, 10 grains; camphor, 1 drachm; ginger, 2 
drachms; castile soap, 2 drachms; anise, 8 drachms; 
liquorice, 2 drachms. Mix. 

Alterative and Laxative Balls No 1. Linseed 
meal, 1 ounce; aloes, ounce; castile soap, ounce. 
Mix. No, 2. Ginger, 1 drachm; castile soap, 2 
drachms; Barbadoes aloes, pulverized, 6 drachms; flax- 
seed meal, 1 ounce. Mix. 

Anodyne Drenches No. 1. Tincture of opium, 1 
ounce; starch gruel, 1 quart Mix. No. 2. Sweet 
spirits of niter, 1 ounce; tincture of opium, 1 ounce; 
essence of peppermint, ounce; water, 1 pint. Mix. 
No 8 Tincture of opium, 1 ounce; spirits of cam- 
phor, ounce; anise, ounce; sulphuric ether, 1 
ounce; water, 1 pint. Mix. 

Diabetes Sugar of lead, lOgrains; alum, 30 grains; 
catechu, 1 drachm; tincture of opium, Bounce; water, 

1 pint. Mix. 

Farcy and Glanders No. 1. Iodide of potassium, 
1 drachms; copperas, drachm; ginger, 1 drachm; 
gentian, 2 drachms; powdered gum arabic and syrup to 
form a ball. No. 2. Calomel, drachm; turpentine, 
| ounce; blue vitriol, 1 drachm; gum arabic and syrup 
to form a ball. No. 8. One-half ounce sulphite of soda, 
5 grains Spanish flies, powdered. Mix, and give at night 
in cut feed for several weeks; give at the same time, 
every morning and noon, 8 drachms powdered gentian, 

2 drachms powdered blue vitriol; give the medicines for 
a long time; feed well. This is the best treatment that 
can be given for this disease. 


Fever Balls No. 1. Saltpetre, 2 drachms; tartar 
emetic, | drachm; flaxseed meal, 1 ounce; camphor, 
drachm; ginger, 2 drachms. Mix, and form into a 
ball. Repeat three or fonr times a day if necessary. 
No. 2. Tincture aconite, ten drops; tartar emetic, ^ 
drachm; saltpetre, 1 drachm; ginger, 2 drachms; lin- 
seed meal, 1 ounce. Mix, and form into a ball. Re- 
peat three or four times a day if necessary. 

Diuretic and Tonic Balls Copperas, 1| drachms; 
ginger, 1 drachm; gentian, 1 drachm; saltpetre, 3 
drachms; rosin, ^ ounce; flaxseed meal, 1 ounce. Mix, 
and form into a ball. 

Diuretic Balls No. 1. Saltpetre, 3 drachms; rosin, 
4 drachms; castile soap, 2 drachms; fenugreek, 3 
drachms; flaxseed meal, 1 ounce. Mix, andiform into 
a ball. No. 2. Oil of juniper, \ drachm; rosin and 
saltpetre, each, 2 drachms; camphor, ^drachm; cas- 
tile soap, 1 ounce; flaxseed meal, 1 ounce. Mix, and 
form into a ball. 

Saddle and Harness Galls, Bruises, etc No. 1. 

Tincture of opium, 2 ounces; tannin, 2 drachms. Mix, 
and apply twice a day. No. 2. Take white lead and 
linseed oil, and mix as for paint, and apply two or 
three times a day. This is good for scratches, or any 
wounds on a horse. 

Founder No. 1. Vinegar, 3 pints; cayenne pep- 
per, drachm; tincture of aconite root, 15 drops. Mix, 
and boil down to one quart; when cool, give it 
as a drench. Blanket the horse well; after the horse 
has perspired for an hour or more, give one quart 


of raw linseed oil. This treatment will be found 
good for horses foundered by eating too much grain. 
No. 2. Some recommend for horses foundered on 
grain, to bleed about one gallon, then to drench the 
horse with one quart of raw linseed oil; after this to 
rub the forelegs well, and for a long time, with very 
warm water, having a little tincture of opium mixed 
with it. As the horse will not recover from loss of blood 
for a long time, it is usually better to adopt the treat- 
ment given in No. 1. 

For Flesh Wounds To prevent inflammation or 
tendency to sloughing or mortification, take 1 pound 
saltpetre, 2 gallons water, 3 pints proof spirits. Mix, and 
inject into the wound with a syringe three times a day 
until it heals. In treating deep wounds or those of a 
dangerous character, especially if the animal is inclined 
to be fat, give a dose of physic, feed bran, carrots, etc. 
No grain should be fed, and grass is more desirable 
than hay. If grass is fed freely, physic is not necessary. 

For Removing Enlargements, etc. Oil spike, 1 
ounce; camphor, 1 ounce; oil origanum, 2 ounces; oil 
amber, 1 ounce; spirits turpentine, 2 ounces. Rub on 
the mixture thoroughly, two or three times a week. 

For Bruises, Cuts, etc., on Horse or Man Tinct- 
ure arnica, 1 ounce; sassafras oil, Bounce; laudanum, 
1 ounce. Mix. Shake well before using. Bandage 
lightly, and keep wet with the mixture. 

Quarter Crack The best way to cure quarter crack 
is to open the heel on that side between bar and frog, 


cutting down pretty well (not sufficient to cause 
bleeding), until the quarter will give freely; then put 
on a shoe that will expand the heel. It is also neces- 
sary in this case that the inner heel should be opened 
or spread, as the hoof is simply too small for the foot; 
if this is properly done, the point is directly reached. 
Some recommend, in addition to this, burning, with 
a hot iron, a crease across at the upper edge of hoof. 
If this is done properly, the hoof will not split any 
more. The hoof may now be more rapidly grown if 
desired. Opening the foot and the shoe is the point of 

Quittor Corrosive sublimate, | ounce; muriatic acid, 
20 drops; soft water, 2 ounces. Mix the last two and 
shake well, then add the first. Inject a little with a 
glass syringe once or twice, being careful to inject to 
the bottom. Warm poultices, used for several days, 
generally work well. 

To Grow Hair Mix sweet oil, 1 pint; sulphur, 3 
ounces. Shake well, and ri^b into the dock twice a 

For Worms Calomel, 1 drachm; tartar emetic, 
drachm; linseed meal, 1 ounce; fenugreek, 1 ounce. 
Mix, and give in feed at night; repeat the dose two or 
three times, and follow with one and a half pints of 
raw linseed oil, about six hours after the last powder 
has been given. 

For Distemper Hops, 2 ounces; carbolic acid, 30 
drops; boiling water, 2 gallons. Mix the hops and car- 
bolic acid with the boiling water, and compel the ani- 


ma] to inhale the steam for fifteen or twenty minutes 
at a time; repeat three times a day. Apply a strong 
mustard paste to the throat, and place a warm poultice 
over the paste. Feed warm mashes and boiled vegeta- 
bles; keep the stable comfortably warm and the air 
pure. Give the following powders once a day : Powdered 
Peruvian bark, 2 ounces; powdered gentian, 1 ounce; 
powdered copperas, 1 ounce. Mix, and divide into 
eight powders. 

For Ringworm Apply mercurial ointment three or 
four times a week. 

For Brittle and Contracted Hoofs Take of castor 
oil,Barbadoes tar and soft soap, equal parts of each ; melt 
all together and stir while cooling, and apply a little 
to the hoof three or four times a week. 

Horse Liniments No. 1. Oil spike, oil origanum, 
oil hemlock, oil wormwood, aqua ammonia, camphor 
gum, of each 2 ounces; olive oil, 4 ounces; alcohol, 1 
quart. Mix. This is an excellent liniire:it for man or 
beast. No. 2 . Oil origanum, oil amber, sweet oil, of 
each 1 ounce; oil spike, aqua ammonia and oil of tur- 
pentine, of each 2 ounces. Mix. No. 3. Linseed oil, 
8 ounces; turpentine, 8 ounces; oil origanum, 4 ounces. 
Mix well. This is excellent for sprains and bruises, 
and is good as a general liniment. No. 4. Oil spike, 1 
ounce; oil origanum, 2 ounces; alcohol, 16 ounces. 
Good for lameness resulting from almost any cause. 
No. 5. Take equal parts of alcohol, chloroform, aqua 
ammonia, Jamaica rum and water, and mix. 


For Scratches and Grease Heel No, 1. Balsam 
fir, 4 ounces; lard, 4 ounces. Stir, with a gentle heat, 
until thoroughly mixed. Wash the sores well with cas- 
tile soap, and apply. No. 2. Sugar of lead, 2 ounces; 
borax, 1 ounce; sweet oil, 6 ounces. Mix, and apply 
twice daily, after washing with castile soap, and dry- 
ing. No. 3. Tincture of myrrh, 2 ounces; glycerine, 
4 ounces; tincture of arnica, 2 ounces. Mix thor- 
oughly, and apply two or three times a day, after 
cleansing, as above, with castile soap. No. 4. Take 
ounce of powdered verdigris and 1 pint of rum or proof 
spirits. Mix, and apply once or twice a day. This 
works nicely for grease heel or mud fever. No. 5. 
Take of oxide of zinc, 1 drachm; lard, 1 ounce; pow- 
dered gum benzoin, 10 grains; camphorated spirits, 1 
drachm. Mix thoroughly, and rub on twice a week. 
Do not wash after the first application. 

Cuts, Wounds and Sores No. 1. Take of lard, 4 
ounces; beeswax, 4 ounces; rosin, 2 ounces; carbolic 
acid, ^ ounce. Mix the first three, and melt, then add 
the carbolic acid, stirring until cool. This is excellent 
for man as well as beast. No. 2. Tincture aloes, 1 
ounce; tincture myrrh, Bounce; tincture opium, Bounce; 
water, 4 ounces. Mix and apply night and morning. 
No. 8. Tincture opium, 2 ounces; tannin, ^ ounce. 
Mix. No. 4. Carbolic acid, 1 ounce; soft water, 1 quart. 

Sweeney No. 1. Spanish flies, camphor gum and 
cayenne, of each 1 ounce; alcohol, 10 ounces; spirits 
turpentine, 6 ounces; oil origanum, 2 ounces. Mix. No. 


2. Alcohol, 16 ounces; spirits turpentine, 10 ounces; 
muriate of ammonia, .1 ounce. Mix. No. 8. Alcohol, 
water, spirits turpentine and soft soap, 1 pint of each ; 
salt, 6 ounces. Mix 

Poll Evil and Fistula No. 1. Copperas, 1 drachm; 
blue vitriol, 2drachms; common salt, 2 drachms; white 
vitriol, 1 drachm. Mix, and powder fine. Fill a goose 
quill with the powder, and push it to the bottom of the 
pipe, having a stick in the top of the quill, so that you 
can push the powder out of the quilJ, leaving it at the 
bottom of the pipe; repeat again in about four days, 
and two or three days from that time you can take hold 
of the pipe and remove it without, trouble. No. 2. 
Tincture of opium, 1 drachm; potash, 2 drachms; 
water, 1 ounce. Mix, and, when dissolved, inject into 
the pipes with a small syringe, having cleansed the sore 
with soap suds; repeat every two days until the pipes 
are completely destroyed. No. 8. Take a small piece of 
lunar caustic; place in the pipe, after being cleansed 
with soap-suds; then fill the hole with sweet oil. 

Bots Take new milk, 2 quarts; syrup, 1 quart. Mix, 
and give the whole, and, in fifteen or twenty minutes 
after, give two quarts of warm strong sage tea; half an 
hour after the tea, give one quart of raw linseed oil, 
or, if the oil cannot be had, give lard instead. 

Ointment for Horses Beeswax, 2 ounces; rosin, 8 
ounces; lard, 4 ounces; carbolic acid, 1 drachm; hon- 
ey, ounce; melt all together and bring slowly to a 
boil; then remove from the fire, and add, slowly, 1 gill 


of spirits of turpentine, stirring all the time until cool. 
Used, with good success, for galls, cracked heels, flesh 
wounds or bruises, 

Condition Powders No. 1. Gentian, fenugreek, 
sulphur, saltpetre, cream of tartar, of each 2 ounces; 
rosin, black antimony, of each 1 ounce; ginger, liquor- 
ice, Bounces each; cayenne, 1 ounce; pulverized and 
mixed thoroughly. Dose, 1 tablespoonful, once or twice 
a day, mixed with the food. Used, with good success, 
for coughs, colds, distemper, hide-bound, and nearly 
all diseases for which condition powders are given. 
No. 2. Fenugreek, 4 ounces; ginger, 6 ounces; anise, 
pulverized, 4 ounces; gentian, 2 ounces; black anti- 
mony, 2 ounces; hard wood ashes, 4 ounces. Mix all 
together. Excellent to give a horse an appetite. 

Water Farcy No. 1. Saltpetre, 2 ounces; cop- 
peras, 2 ounces; ginger, 1 ounce; fenugreek, 2 ounces; 
anise, ounce; gentian, 1 ounce. Mix, and divide into 
eight powders; give two or threa each day. No. 2. 
Gentian, 1 ounce; ginger, ounce; anise, 1 ounce; ele- 
campane, 2 ounces; blue vitriol, 1 ounce; flaxaeed 
meal, 2 ounces; saltpetre, 2 ounces Mix, and divide 
into eight powders. Moderate daily exercise and rub- 
bing the limbs are useful. 

Healing Preparations No 1. Carbolic acid, 1 
ounce; soft water, 2 pints. Mix. No. 2. White vit- 
riol, 1 ounce; soft water, 2 pints. Mix. No. 3. Pul- 
verized camphor, 1 drachm; prepared chalk, 6 drachms; 
burnt alum, 4 drachms. Mix. Sprinkle over the sore. 


No. 4. Tincture of opium, 1 ounce; tannin, 1 drachm. 
Mix, and shake well before using. Excellent for galls 
of collar, saddle, or in fact for any purpose requiring 
a healing astringent. 

For Galled Back or Shoulders Tincture of arnica, 
1 ounce; vinegar, Bounces; brandy, 4 ounces; sal am- 
moniac, 2 ounces; soft water, 1 pint. Mix, and bathe 
with it often. 

For Unhealthy Ulcers Nitric acid, 1 ounce; blue 
vitriol, 3 ounces; soft water, 15 ounces. Mix. 

For Fresh Wounds Copperas, 2 drachms; white 
vitriol, 3 drachms; gunpowder, 2 draoh ins; boiling soft 
water, 2 quarts. Mix. When cool it is ready for use. 

Healing Mixture Cosmoline, 5 ounces; carbolic 
acid, 1 drachm. Mix. This is one of the very best of 
mixtures for any sore, especially for such cases as are 
inclined not to heal readily. 

To Cure Mange Oil tar, 1 ounce; lac sulphur, 1 
ounces; whale oil, 2 ounces. Mix. Rub a little on 
the skin wherever the disease appears, and continue, 
daily, for a week, and then wash off with castile soap 
and warm water. 

Healing Mixture for Cuts Balsam copaiba, 2 
ounces; tincture of myrrh, 3 ounces. Mix. This is a 
good healing mixture. 

Sore Lips The lips become sore frequently at the 
angles of the mouth, from bruising with the bit. They 
can be cured by applying the following mixture: Tinc- 
ture of myrrh, 2 ounces ; tincture of aloes, 1 ounce; 


tincture of opium, i ounce Mix, and apply three or 
four times a day. 

For Sore Mouth and Lips Borax,! ounce; tannin, 
ounoB ; glycerine, H ounces Mix, and apply two or three 
times a day, , ith a swab 

For Sprains, etc Hog's lard and spirits of turpen- 
tine. Mix and place in the hot sunshine for four or five 
days. Apply four or five times a week. 

Eye Water White vitriol and saltpetre, of each 1 
scruple; pure soft water, 8 ounces Mix. This should 
be applied to the inflamed lids three or four times a 
day, and if the inflammation does not lessen in one or 
two days, it may be injected directly into the eye. It 
does nicely, many times, to just close the eye and 
bathe the outside freely. 

For Colic Take of gum myrrh, 1 ounce; gum cam- 
phor, 1 cunce; powdered gum guaiac, 1 ounce; cay- 
enne, 1 ounce; powdered sassafras bark, 1 ounce; spir- 
its turpentine, 1 ounce; oil origanum, | ounce; oil 
hemlock, ounce; pulverized opium, \ ounce; strong- 
est alcohol, 2 quarts. Mix all together, shake often for 
eight or ten days, and filter or strain through flannel. 
Dose, from one to three tablespoonsful, according to 
the severity of the case; give in a pint of milk 

Lice A good old remedy for lice on horses or cattle 
is to boil a pint of lard, or any kind of grease, with a 
quart of water, and when partly cooled add a pint of 
kerosene. This will do it every time. 


For Heaves No 1. One teaspoonful of lobelia, 
given in the feed, once a day fora week, and then once 
or twice a week, will stop them for a time. No. 2 
Balsam copaiba, 1 ounce; spirits of turpentine, 2 
ounces; balsam fir, 1 ounce; cider vinegar, 16 ounces. 
Mix, and give a tablespooiiful once a day. No. 3. 
Saltpetre, 1 ounce; indigo, % ounce; rain water, four 
pints Mix, and give a pint twice a day. No. 4. 
Liquorice, elecampane, wild turnip, fenugreek skunk- 
cabbage, lobelia, cayenne and ginger, equal parts of 
each. Mix, and give a tablespoonful once or twice a 
day; if the horse refuses to eat it in feed, make it into 
a ball and give. 

Contracted Hoof or Sore Feet No. 1. Take equal 
parts of soft, fat, yellow wax, linseed oil, Venice tur- 
pentine and Norway tar; first melt the wax, then add 
the others, mixing thoroughly. Apply to the edge of the 
hair once a day. No. 2. Benzine, 1 ounce; salts of niter, 
1 ounce; alcohol, Bounces; aqua ammonia, 2 ounces; 
Venice turpentine, 8 ounces. Mix. Apply to the edge 
of the hair and all over the hoof once a day for ten 
days, then twice a week for a short time. No. 8. Rosin, 
4 ounces; lard, 8 ounces; heat them over a slow fire, 
then take off and add powdered verdigris, 1 ounce, and 
stir well to prevent its running over; when partly cool 
add 2 ounces spirits of turpentine. Apply to the hoof 
about one inch down from the hair. 



"Have you thought, in your moments of triumph, 

(), you that are high in the tree, 
Of the days and the nights that are bitter 

So bitter to others and me? 
When the efforts to do what is clever 

Result in a failure so sad, 
And the clouds of despondency gather 

And dim all the hopes that we had?" 

1 MADE my debut on the stage of life at Stratford- 
on-Avon. For the edification of those little children 
who are told they came from heaven, I suppose I ought 
to call this rny first down. 



My mother died when I was two years old, and my 
old nurse, Eliza, became my foster mother, taking my 
mother's place as well as she could. Some men's 
mothers do die when they are young, and I have always 
wanted to shake hands in sympathy with them, indi- 
vidually, for nothing that ever happens to them after- 
ward will be as bad as that. Not that I mean to decry 
Eliza, she couldn't do any better than she did, seeing 
that she was not my mother. 

I remember I used to cry for the moon nights, about 
the time my mother died, and at last to quiet me Eliza 
carried me up into the turret of the house to look at it. 
The turret was reached by a ladder, and when nurse 
started to go down she slipped, and I went to the bot- 
tom goflop. I've been there a good many times since. 
It is usually the way, I notice, when a man wants the 
sun or moon or hitches his wagon to a star, he loses his 
hold on things, and down he goes; while some other 
fellow, who only wants the earth to be happy, gets it 
or all he can take. 

After awhile I was sent to school. Most that I learned 
at school was that it was right to do the things I didn't 
like and wrong to do those I liked, and if I didn't look 
at it that way the fellow with the ferule did, and so 
I might as well too as long as he held the ferule. 

The diet in that school was as strange and wonder- 
ful as the discipline. Individual taste and appetite 
were not considered. It was a case of "so much served, 
so much eaten. 1 ' Every boy's portion was alike, and 
every boy was enjoined, on pain of a flogging, to leave 
no morsel uneaten. Cabbage was a favorite vegetable 


there. We had it fried for breakfast, boiled for dinner 
and chopped for supper. I have never been greedy, 
and as I ate my share of the cabbage produce of the 
world while there, I haven't eaien any since. 

Many things happened at school which should have 
prepared me for what to expect from mankind in gen- 
eral. They didn't, however. This is one of them: 
One of my school companions, Charlie Marsh, used 
to play a trick on me and on the other fellows smaller 
than himself. I suppose he chose the little ones be- 
cause they couldn't lick him afterward. The boys 
were not allowed to leave the school grounds without 
permission, but nearly every Saturday, Marsh, mak- 
ing a great show of secrecy, would tell about half a 
dozen little fellows that he was going on a foraging 
expedition to a distant orchard, and ask our coopera- 
tion. Of course we cooperated every time. Marsh, 
m iking a great display of solicitude for our littleness, 
helped us over the wall, and then we all started at 
full speed across the fields, Marsh leading. There 
was a bog to be crossed, he never allowing us time to go 
around it, and just about the time we were in the mid- 
dle of it we would hear the voice of the master calling 
on us to come back, and Marsh calling on us to come 
on. We understood how volunteers feel, with disgrace 
behind and death in front, and went on, the bog getting 
deeper and deeper until we went down to our arms. And 
there we staid till the master reached us and pulled us 
out, giving each boy a whaling as he came up from the 
mud. That was an "up" which left a painful impres- 
sion upon me. Marsh, meanwhile, being longer of leg, 



had reached the other side and made for the school, 
out of the master's sight in the tall reeds. Not being 
there, he didn't get whaled. 

It never occurred to us then that Marsh only wanted 
to see us licked. We hndn't leaned in those days that 
some people would get under the wheels themselves just 
to see someone else ground up; and I have noticed since 
then that men as well as boys will try the same beg a 
good many times if there is a prom- 
ise of apples on the other side. 

My next step in life was a step- 
mother. My father had gone to 
Canada then, and my stepmother 
came to take me to him, so my 
next experience was of a ship I had 
learned a good deal by that time 
a boy can learn quite a little at 
school if he tries real hard and so 
I rather liked leaving school and 
going to Canada, especially as we 
had to cross the ocean to get there. 

Nothing happened on the sea. I had always planned 
that when I went to sea I would be cast away upon a 
desert island, with a lot of hair-breadth things in be- 
tween, but my stepmother being with me I decided to 
postpone that. A fellow can't do much of that sort with 
women around, especially stepmothers; they don't take 
to it. On the same steamer with us was a French boy 
with a mother. He always nagged me, and it made me 
mad. I wanted to squash him at once, but I considered 
my stepmother. At last, however, I couldn't stand him 



any longer, and one day I pitched into him before a 
whole deckful of people. The fine ladies screarned, 
"Part, them, part theml They'll hurt each other!" 
But the men said, "Go it, England!'' "Athim, France!" 
according to which side they were on, while Frenchy's 
mother stood by, ruffling herself like a fat hen when 
you are after her chickens. But her boy was the bigger, 
so she controlled her emotions. I licked him, mopped 
the deck with him, and then set my foot on him like 
the show fencer does when he has broken the other 
fellow's foil. That was one of the times when I was 

Then Frenchy's mother showed her blood ; she treated 
me as her country treated Napoleon when he came 
back from Egypt. She took me to her cabin and filled 
me up with jam, figs, cakes and all the other good 
things they raise in France. "You coward cur!" she 
cried to her son, when he came sneaking in. "You let 
zat leettle Anglais boy wheep you! You disgrace your 
countree. A good Anglais man is better zan a bad 
Frenchman. I geef him zee zham." It's a truth I 
have proved since then that the fellow who gets the 
licking never gets the jam, though it has always seemed 
to me that he ought to have it for consolation. 

When we reached Canada I was sent to school again. 
School there was different from school in England. I 
lived at home, the school being just a public one. When 
I had been there awhile I found that the difference be- 
tween public and private schools is that at the private 
school you pay a good deal and get very little, and in 
the public school you pay very little and get a good 


deal. I have observed since then that that is the differ- 
ence between most public and private institutions. 

Going to this school gave me a good deal of super- 
fluous confidence in mankind; nothing does that so 
quickly as an appearance of disinterestedness. I had 
yet to learn that disinterestedness is usually a snake in 
a dove's nest. Not that I am finding fault with my 
school; I am only reflecting upon the grief which con- 
fidence in human nature brings. 

In the intervals of school days I found much to amuse 
me at the telegraph office. I had struck up a friend- 
ship with the head telegraph operator, and in his idle 
moments he instructed me in the mysteries of teleg- 
raphy, until I became quite expert with the keys. I 
never thought then in what good stead this knowledge 
would stand me in after years. 

About this time father bought me a nag from a trav- 
eling gypsy. He was a black cur, as we thought, fit 
only for a mild scamper across the fields. We didn't 
know Neb Nebuchadnezzar, Neb for short and, like 
a good many people whom we underrate on first ac- 
quaintance, he surprised everybody when it came his 
time to shine. 

The Mason and Slidell trouble between England and 
the States occurred about this time, and our town had a 
regiment of British troops encamped in her vicinity. 
Races and steeplechases were frequent occurrences, and 
in one of these I entered Neb among a mixed lot of 
other horses, scrubs, curs and imported thoroughbreds. 
Of course no one with a scrub expected to win, but he 
would have the exhilaration of trying. There is a deal 


of satisfaction in trying to do a thing even if you don't 
do it. Everybody tried. I tried. So did Neb. 

Our race was a three mile across-country go-as-you- 
please-but-get-tbere contest over a stretch of fields and 
meadows. I suppose the ground had been selected be- 
cause of the number of fences, hedges and ditches to be 
taken. Anyway all I know is that Neb seemed to want 
to graze on stars one minute and to bite the dust the 
next. At first the race was a mixed up scamper, all 
sorts and conditions of horses clearing hedges in a 
bunch, like hounds let loose, and then as soon as I got 
my breath after the first few evolutions in mid-air I 
found Neb and me neck and neck with the imported 
thoroughbred ridden by tho colonel of the regiment. 
I forgot that Neb wasn't a thoroughbred too, trained 
in steeplechases all his life; I forgot that I wasn't the 
colonel of a regiment, drilled in racing tactics from 
the day I put on little blue shoes. I forgot everything 
except that Neb and I must pass the wire before that 
other horse which skimmed the ground like a black- 
bird by my side. Steady, Neb, another fence! Ah, well 
done, old boy! You took that like a hunter! Off we 
go over another level stretch ! I woke up to the fact that 
Neb acted like an old turf horse. I almost felt his mus- 
cles play under me, I felt his effort to keep nose and 
nose with the thoroughbred, and I felt, too, that he 
was keeping a bit of reserve force for the home stretch, 
while the thoroughbred, starting with contempt for the 
scrubs, had set out to distance them at once. He had 
all except Neb. Dear old Neb, you go like a carrier 
pigeon! Another ditch! Another fence! Another level! 


Good boy, you're half a length ahead of him now I Steady 
for the last hedge now and we win! That's it never 
even touched the twigs! Steady! Stead ah waugh 
whiz-z-z thump stars!!! Where are we? What 
happened? No, no bones brok scratched a bit. Oh, 
it was only a posthole just over the hedge. Neb's foot 
went into it, and we lost the race! Don't feel so bad, 
Neb. We aren't thoroughbreds, you know, and our pride 
not being up very high it couldn't come down very 
far either. That's the advantage of being lowly. You 
mustn't feel bad, Neb; it's only the dirt in my eyes makes 
my eyes red; and some must have got into my throat, a 
big lump of it. Maybe there's a lump of dirt in your 
throat, too, Neb, Feels ba-ba-bad, doesn't it,Ne-Ne- 

My boyhood seems to have ended just about that 
time. The first ink ling I had of that 

dawning dignity was ^ the panegyrics in the 

local papers the day ^JlV/ a ^er that race, when 
"young Blank's mar /'0'nci ve ^ ous handling of a 
good horse nearly IM0lL won * ne race against 
one of the best race 1 |' horses from England, 
an untoward accident ,,J^ f^ only preventing his 
coming in half a neck THECOLONEL. ahead," etc., etc., 
etc., all of which brought home to me a realization 
of the fact that I was no longer a boy. I was old 
enough to be fleeced, and the world lost no time in in- 
itiating me into her methods of skinning. 

The world is a wonderful place. From the time you 
wear long curls until you reach young manhood it 
makes much of you, teaches you to think it a good, 


motherly old world, whose particular business it is to 
raise up friends for you good hail-fellows-well-met 
who have so much affection for you and such unbounded 
confidence in your great-heartedness that they come 
to you with their troubles, demonstrate their friendship 
by borrowing your money, drinking your wine and rid- 
ing your horses. Then some fine day you open your 
purse and find it empty, you go to your stable and find 
it vacant. It's a shock, but the recollection of your 
hosts of friends helps you to recover. You go to your 
friends They must be busy today, they are all in such 
a hurry. They are always busy after that. And grad- 
ually it dawns upon you that the wind blows from the 
north wherever you go. It's a puzzler at first; you 
don't understand it. The very last thing people do 
nnderstaud is that their friends have left them those 
dear friends who were all graciousness, candidness and 
affection a little while ago. It's wonderful how quickly 
the channel of love can be dammed by adversity. 

My father died soon after my first realization of 
dawning manhood, my stepmother getting his whole 
property. I had my first experience then of being 
broke. Broke is a good word. It was probably invented 
by some man who hadn't a cent nor a friend; who 
hadn't a place to sleep nor anything to eat; a man who 
would like to have pillowed his head on the sands of 
the lake, with the water above him for bedclothing, but 
who had too much stamina to lay down the gun to a 
world composed largely of ingrates, and having no other 
occupation h.3 coined a word to describe his condition. 
The result was "broke." It's a good word, I say. 


Well, I was broke, I was do-wn in cash, down in 
friends, down in spirits I was down, in fact, below 
the bottom of the ladder. And I had about as correct 
a view of mankind from that point as I have ever had 
in my life. It's an awful thing to see your fellow men 
from below. You can't see their heads nor the region 
of their hearts; all you can see is their feet, and that 
part of a man's anatomy which he turns toward you 
when you ask him for a loan, and you are not inspired 
thereby with confidence. I learned then that men are 
attractive or repulsive according to the direction from 
which you see them. 

A man who is broke seldom cares to stay in a place 
where he has seen better days. At least so it was with 
me. So I gathered up my belongings, including two 
handsome mastiffs and a little fox terrier, Flirt, who 
was my particular pet, and left for the States. Finally 
I drifted to Kansas City to exhibit my dogs at a dog 
show being held there. For a while I lived well there 
on the profits of a streak of good luck, putting up at 
the best hotel and enjoying my temporary prosperity. 
After that for a while I lived part of the time in leisure 
and all the time in anxiety. Then I did something of 
which I have been ashamed ever since. I sacrificed my 
little friend Flirt, whose devotion to me had for so long 
been a source of great pleasure to me. Poor Flirt! I 
would rather have a wag of your tail today than the 
shake of most men's hands. But a man will sacrifice 
even his friends to his necessities, and 1 sacrificed Flirt. 

Sitting in my hotel one evening with Flirt at my side 
I was engaged in conversation by a young Englishman. 


Flirt's presence having turned the talk on dogs, he re- 
marked, "I would like to get a pair of mastiffs, some- 
thing extra fine." "You have not far to go," I 
answered, "I know a man who has the best pair in Amer- 
ica. " "Who and where is he?" demanded the English- 
man, eagerly. "Here. I am the man." By nine o'clock 
next morning he had my dogs, Flirt included, and I 
had $900 in my inside pocket. 

That day a letter came to me, a yellow, typewritten 
letter. I have always felt shy of yellow typewritten 
letters since then. It was apparently a kindly inten- 
tioned letter and read: 





Dear Sir: Wednesday, May 21, 18<:. 

To-day's markets cables spot wheat 1-2 d. higher. 

Wheat fluctuations quick and violent, open firmer with heavy 
rains in the northwest. There is not a bushel of wheat 
at the seaboard , and when all the Duluth and Chicago wheat 
reaches tide water, it will rapidly disappear and give us 
an irrmens'.' decrease in the visible. 

Anybody knows that we shall not have half a crop end 
there is great danger of that being destroyed by chinch 
bugs, which have made their appearance in vast numbers in 
the wheat belts. There is a black war cloud hanging over 
Europe. The German Emperor has telegraphed he will not 
attend the yacht races, and so many chances yet for damages. 
to the growing poor crop, and when one stops to think that 


winter wheat only shows half a crop, and with bu<* reports, 
we believe purchases of wheat should be made at once. 

Good people are buying. Oudahue took on two millions 
on the reaction; values will certainly be twenty to twenty- 
.five cts. hitfier. All that holds it down is the present 
low demand and May liquidations by parties who got it deliv- 
ered to them and did not want it, and also due largely to 
lack of demand, but the bear* have had their day. 
Corn and oats firm and much higher, provisions closed or. the top. 

Hoping to be favored with a share of your orders, I re- 

yours/ very truly. 

I at once perceived millions in that letter, large, pow- 
erful, reassuring millions, and I rolled the word under 
my tongue like a sugar plum. Only it was much more 
exquisitely delicious than any sugar plum I had ever 
had, even when a very little boy. Following the di- 
rections, I hurried to see my new friend. I call him 
friend, for I was sure that he must be some one speci- 
ally raised up by Providence, if not indeed specially 
created, to help me set on my newly acquired dollars and 
hatch them into geese which should each and individ- 
ually be the goose that laid the golden egg I felt my- 
self to be up, distinctly and distinguishedly up. I 
might be a Vanderbilt before the week's end, and trod 
the street as a prospective Rockefeller. I found my 
friend in. That was no surprise. It seemed only nat- 
ural that people, specially-raised-up friends in particu- 
lar, should be waiting for the soon-to-be millionaire. 


I believe people usually do wait in for millionaires 
He was a bucket shop.steerer. I didn't understand 
from his letter that he was a bucket shop steerer. 
But I reflected that great ends are sometimes wrought 
by small means. We had dinner together. It was a 
simple dinner for a man who might sup that very night 
from a banquet. Then we went to the board of trade. 
He conducted me to a dim corner where even a wink 
would be invisible to others. There was to be a sudden 
raise in that staple commodity, wheat. Whaat had a 
nice, rich sound to my ears. It was a word 0119 could 
associate with pride with the making of a sudden fortune. 


It was a substantial sounding name, and there's a good 
deal in a name, Shakespeare to the contrary notwith- 
standing. I thought that I would really rather make 
my fortune in wheat than in anything else. I associated 
this agreeable development with the good offices of 
my friend, a special manipulation of minor details, in 
fact, for my sole gratification, and felt that I could 
never be sufficiently grateful to him. 

I willingly gave up $300 $100 for 10, 000 bushels and 
$200 for margins, and sat still waiting for the $300 to 
develop into thousands. They didn't develop. My 
steerer came to reassure me. Such things often hap- 
pened, he said; I must buy another 10,000 bushels on the 
drop. Of course, I now reflected, there must necessarily 
be intermediate steps attended with anxiety in the ac- 
quisition of millions. Otherwise everybody would be 
reaping millions from a few dollars. I hadn't thought 
of that before and it completely restored my cheerful- 
ness. I bought another 10,000 bushels on the drop. 


Buying wheat on the drop sounded well to my ears then. 
I felt that I should appreciate much more a fortune so 
narrowly won, snatched from the turning of a hair, as 
it were. The only drawback to my appreciation or my 
fortune either was that the hair didn't turn. The wheat 
dropped. So did my expectations. Both have been 
dropping ever since, I dropped out of the bidding with 
$2 in my pocket. My confidence in my fellow men 
dropped also, dropped far below zero. It hasn't come 
up yet. 

Two dollars is a small sum on which to begin life, 
particularly if you have to live on it too, until you be- 
gin. Instead of investing $300 in wheat I now invested 
five cents in a copy of the Times. I then retired to the 
park, and seated on the grass looked over the "want" 
columns of the paper There was nothing there to 
arouse my expectations greatly after my recent disap- 
pointment. I was not familiar with "want" columns, 
and at any other time some of the ads. might have in- 
spired sanguinary hopes. They invited me to organize 
secret societies for a high commission per head, to sell 
a useful household article and thereby earn $50 daily, 
to become a painter, printer, coachman or auctioneer. 
None of these occupations appealed to me as my voca- 
tion in life. Painting and printing were not in my 
list of accomplishments. I doubted my ability to sell 
a household article, however useful. To be an auction- 
eer, then, was all that remained to me. It was not ex- 
actly in my line, but I reflected that in my new way of 
life, without the prop of a full purse, I should probably 
sometimes have to stoop to conquer, and I might as 
well begin at once. 


Calling at the address given, I surprised myself by 
securing the position. The next morning I rode to the 
scene of the auction, I found it a picturesque vacant 
acre in the suburbs, called the Elms. The name was no 
doubt derived from a solitary scrub elm standing in the 
center of the ground, which the imagination of the spon- 
sor magnified into a number of fine old trees. At least 
I surmised that must have been the way, to account 
for the name being in the plural number. Imagina- 
tion goes a good way toward making life pleasant. 
The genius who owned the acre had fenced it in and 
rented it to my employer for a horse market I almost 
said a horsemeat market, for I found that dead horses 
were also sold there, their price being uniformly $2, 
regardless of whether they were fat, juicy and tender 
or lean and tough as some men's souls. A live horse, I 
learned, was worth the price of a dead horse plus the 
value of the life that, remained in him. Some of the 
horses there had fifty cents' worth of life, and others 
had as much as $50 worth. Those who did not buy a 
horse for his steak were speculators on the life that was 
in him. But most of the horses sold were "pelters," 
"plugs," "skinners"' or "skates," words which are all 
abbreviations of the sentence "fit only for slaughter." 

When the moment came for the sale I sat in my 
buggy (my employer's. I mean),and announced the con- 
ditions of the sale to the assembled speculators, ped- 
dlers and junkmen, a ragged crowd of mongrel humans 
who came with four or five dollars in their pockets to 
buy a poor beast to draw their ramshackle carts. In- 
creasing my voice to a stentorian depth, I said: "All 


we guarantee is that the horse is alive when the ham- 
mer falls." My employer had given me strict injunc- 
tions on this point, for should a horse breathe his last 
two minutes after the bang of the hammer the loss 
would be the buyer's, and he couldn't even complain. 

u Here comes a pelter," yelled the crowd as the stable 
man led out an unhappy beast which trotted weakly up 
and down behind the man. 

"Start it," I cried "What'll it be? Two dollarsl 
two dollars! Half '11 make it three, " etc., etc., etc., 
until all but one animal had been sold. The last horse 
led out was blind; he also had the mange, and spring- 
halt, and was windbroke. These complications were 
aggravated by a degree of weakness which in a hu- 
man would be called locomotor ataxy. He was alive. 
That fact was made apparent by his ability to follow 
the groom by force of the halter. Had the halter broken 
he would have fallen on his haunches. I am possessed 
of a certain amount of humanity, and to sell this poor 
beast seemed an act of brutality of which I should 
never have thought myself capable. But I reflected 
that I was there to sell anything, and that the choice 
lay between selling the horse and losing my position. 
I did the former, and, as it developed, the latter also. 
This was the forty-third horse sold that morning, and 
closed the auction. It also closed my career as a knight 
of the hammer. The man who bought the object of 
my pity paid $2.50 for him, and led him proudly from 
the market. Just outside the enclosure the horse fell 
down and died. The peculiarity about that horse was 
that he hadn't fallen down and died before. I have 


not the stomach of an ostrich, and this sight settled me 
in the conviction that while I might be an auctioneer 
of horses I could never be an auctioneer of live horse- 
meat, and that evening I handed in my "chips." 

My next step in life was to become a telegraph oper- 
ator. I took that step by accident. Some accidents 
are fortunate. This was one of them. My knowledge 
of telegraphy picked up for amusement at the little 
telegraph office in my little Canadian city stood me in 
good stead. When a man is on his feet he goes up the 
ladder quickly. Promotions followed rapidly, and 
within six months I was successively all-round man, 
city chief, weather reporter, associated press reporter, 
worked a New York quod, and did the C. and D. 's. I 
went up rapidly and came down even more so. In fact, 
I came down so rapidly that within twenty-four hours 
after leaving the telegraph office as usual in the even- 
ing, on the best of terms with my superiors in office, 
and with every prospect of being manager within a 
week's time, I was again a man of "infinite leisure," 
though not of "expensive amusements." The memora- 
ble great strike had come and, like all good members 
of the union, I "walked out" with the boys. 

The following week I was engaged by the opposition 
telegraph company to take charge of their office at 
Boom Creek, Colorado. I liked Boom Creek. I shall 
always remember it with pleasure. A man usually does 
remember a place with pleasure where he has raised the 
rhino. That predisposes him in its favor for all time. I 
did the C. and D. 's there also that is, I took the board 
of trade quotations and with the inside information 


thus gained I speculated in wheat. As a result I cleared 
$15,000, beside incidentally clearing out two bucket 

With this little "pile" I resigned my position and 
went to Omaha. I was now a full-fledged "plunger," 
and my own steerer. That fact had brought back to me 
my one-hour vision of millions, and I watched my 
chance to make them. One day I thought it had come, 
and I plunged. I plunged, but I didn't bring up the 
goblet. I was broke again ! Completely broke! Dead 
broke I A week after leaving Boom Creek I sat in the 
park and meditated on the gloominess of my prospects. 
The park is a sort of "friendly arms" for men who 
are broke. But I don't complain. The wheels of the 
world roll rapidly, and if a man does not get out of 
the way quick enough he'll get under. 

So I sat in the park and meditated. Meditation, the 
philosophers tell us, is good for the soul, and I won't 
presume to doubt them. But it isn't profitable. I have 
had plenty of opportunities to meditate, but I never 
grew fat on it. I noticed a number of other men who 
came to the park to meditate. They didn't grow fat 
either. I tried to fraternize with the other men. I 
felt that we all had one thing in common; we were all 
broke. That fact was the one conspicuous, unmistak- 
able thing about us when we were in the park. Else- 
where we put on cheerful faces. And I thought as we 
were mutually unfortunate and misfortune is said to 
make all the world akin we might exchange advice. 
Advice was the only thing within our means. We would 
have liked cigars better,but we yielded gracefully to the 


inevitable. But I found that being broke was the only 
attribute, as it were, which was common to us. They 
were lovers of nature in the nude; in fact, they were 
quite artistically particular on that point. They lived 
out of doors so they could see nature in their favorite 
garb. They preferred a stump to sit on to the softest 
chair, and the grass to walk on rather than the richest 
carpet; the trees and flowers were their interior decora- 
tions, the clouds their hangings and the sky their roof. 
In short, the whole land was their dwelling, and houses 
were only necessary blemishes on the landscape, the 
kitchens of their chefs, as it were. They were like the 
lilies of the field, they toiled not, neither did they spin, 
and yet they were clothed and presumably in their 
right minds. Thay confided to me that they lived on 
the fat of the land, and yet were I to believe the tales 
of great distances traveled by them I calculated they 
must eat it as they walked maybe with the forks of 
the road. 

One afternoon, a few days after my fatal plunge, I 
strolled downtown. In my pocket were three cold, 
solitary nickels, the last of my $15,000. With one of 
these I bought some buns and an apple. With my paper 
bag in hand I started to stroll back again. I should say 
that I was strolling at the rate of twenty miles an hour. 
There is no better inducement to stroll at a brisk pace 
than a paper bag. There is something about a paper 
bag which tempts a man to get to his destination in 
the shortest time possible. A man can't feel proud 
when in company with a paper bag. Suddenly I halted. 
I didn't halt of my own free will, but because I couldn't 


go any farther. The reason I couldn't go any farther 
was that there was a man in front of me and I was in 
front of him, and we were so close in front of each 
other that for a moment it was painful. In fact, there 
was a shock, in which we got generally mixed up, and 
the paper bag burst with excitement. The man com- 
menced to apologize to me and I commenced to apolo- 
gize to him, and finally we apologized to each other 
and were going on again, when he caught sight of the 
bag and the buns on the pavement and called: "Oh, 
I say, isn't this yours?' 1 

"No," I answered, "isn't it yours?" We looked back 
suspiciously at each other, and then it dawned upon us 
both that we had seen each other before. 

"I beg your pardon, but are you not Mr. Blank of 
Hamilton, Canada?" 

"Yes," I answered, "and you are Lord Dasham of 
Dorsetshire, England." Then we fraternized. We 
talked over old times, old England and New America. 
In the former Lord Dasham had an ancestral home 
and a bank account, in the latter a ranch and paying 
investments. He was very enthusiastic over his ranch 
and paying investments. He even tried to interest me 
in his ranch, and I was willing to be interested. I let 
him know that I was willing to be interested. When 
he had talked himself out on that subject it occurred to 
him to ask what I was doing. I told him. That is, 
I did not give him a minute account of my daily occu- 
pation, but I intimated that I was looking around for 
an opening in some paying business. He said that he 
wished I would manage his ranch for him. I said I 


might consider that. He said he would let me hear 
from him about it, and then we both said good-day 
and shook hands. He went to his hotel to keep an en- 
gagement and I went to the park to wait for one. The 
.next morning I saw by the paper that he had left town. 
My hopes left me. 

That afternoon, as usual, I sauntered downtown, stop- 
ping at my old hotel for mail, where I still had it ad- 
dressed. Among other things there was a telegram 
waiting for me. I ripped it open and read: 

"Start at once for my ranch. I send you fifty pounds 
for expenses." 

Fifty pounds two hundred and fifty dollars! And 
a position which would be a paying one I Surely my ups 
were as sudden as my downs! 

Lord Dasham's ranch was in Montana, a state at 
that time inhabited principally by deer and a wilder- 
ness. There were no railroads penetrating to it, and my 
means of transit would be a pony and a revolver. I 
paid a debt or two and a few other things. Then I took 
the train to Sydney, Nebraska, the farthest point 
reached by the steel steed. At Sydney I set about lay- 
ing in my traveling outfit. I had not much money 
left after paying my debts and the few other things, 
so I was obliged to be economical. I laid in a pony 
for $20, a blanket for $2.50, a cricket cap for seventy- 
five cents, an umbrella to keep the sun off, for $2, 
and a pearl handled pistol for $3. The pearl handled 
pistol, which was about four inches long, was to keep 
off Indians. I had never seen any Indians except 
stolidly peaceful ones, but I felt a great deal of con- 




fidence in myself and my pearl handled pistol. I 
thought that together we could keep them off. 

The next morning I started for the ranch, which I 
was told was 220 miles from Sydney. About forty 
miles from the city I came up with an old buffalo 
hunter. We fraternized. His name was McNeal and 
he was on his way to his own ranch, which was 100 miles 
this side of Lord Dasham's, so journeying with him 
would start me well on my way to my destination. 
That night we camped out. My pony was tired, for Me- 
Neal's horse was a long-limbed, fresh animal, and 
neither the rider nor the horse was inclined to lag on 
his way to accommodate my pony. So it was a case 


of company if we kept pace, or travel alone if we didn't. 
We both preferred company, so we kept pace. In the 
afternoon of the next day we reached the Big Powder 
River. As we rode along the bank my companion re- 
marked that we must cross it. 

"Where's the bridge?" I asked, glancing up and 
down the wide, rapidly flowing stream. "I'll show 
you," he answered, and before I could say another 
word he turned his horse's head toward the river, and 
in he plunged. I had a vague feeling that it was an 
accident, and that I ought to rush to his rescue, but 
McNeal didn't look as though he was the victim of an 

"Are you going to cross here?' 5 I called after him. 
He called back that that was what he was doing, and 
seeing me linger on the bank with an expression of, to 
say the least, unwillingness on my face, he added, 
"The longer you look at it the less you'll like it. I'm 
going on and you can go back if you want to; it's 
forty miles. But if you can't cross this river you had 
better go back to Omaha right away; you won't do in 
this country." 

My pony ended the discussion. He had been whinny- 
ing after the other horse and now, with one bound over 
the bank, took the water after him. I remembered that 
in rowing across a river the boat is turned up stream. 
I tried to turn my pony up stream also, when my 
companion shouted, "Swim down stream; let your 
pony have his head!" I let my pony have his head and 
swam down stream.- I thought I was going to swim 
under the stream. My pony was light of weight, while 


I was no feather, and as a consequence we sank deeper 
and deeper until only the poor beast's nozzle remained 
above water. When he reached this depth I felt some 
anxiety. Most people would. I offered up a prayer. 
Some people do pray. Just as I murmured "amen" the 
beast's foot caught in a snag under the water, and 
well, the reader will have to imagine what happened 
during the next minute. I have always had to imagine 
it myself. My recollection of the occurrence begins 
where the pony floundered up the opposite bank with 
me on his back. At least I was somewhere on him. It 
might have been on his neck. I don't just remember. 
On the bank stood McNeal. McNeal had a look of 
mingled anxiety and amazement on his face. I didn't 
blame him, but when he asked if I had never crossed a 
river before I felt that there are moments when a man 
shouldn't express his thoughts even if he can't help 
looking them. 

We rode on again. In my heart was a feeling of sin- 
cere thankfulness to Providence. It didn't last long. 
When we had ridden about three miles, there was the 
river before us again. It was before us again three times 
after that. We crossed it each time. There is nothing 
like getting used to a thing,and I suppose the windings 
of the Big Powder River are an invention of Old Nick to 
make people used to it. 

That afternoon about nightfall we had a scare. I say 
we, because I know I was scared and I suppose my com- 
panion was. He didn't look scared, but I attributed 
his calmness to the probable fact of his having greater 
control over his facial muscles than I had. Just as the 


sun sank down behind the outer rim of the plains there 
rose between us and the blush in the western sky a 
cloud of dust. It came nearer and nearer. McNeal 
looked at it keenly. "Indians," was all he said. I 
remembered my pearl handled pistol and felt reassured. 
I saw McNeal put his hand to his belt, and I surmised 
that he was after his revolver. I didn't want to seam 
slow in making defensive preparations, so I whipped 
out mine, and held it in my hand, resting my hand on 
the pummel. I was startled to hear my companion ex- 
claim, "Thunder and lightning!" and turning to see 
what was the matter, found his eyes fixed on my pearl 
handled pistol, with a stare of such complete and utter 
amazement as one sees only once in a lifetime. He 
struggled to find his voice, and having found it demand- 
ed, "What are you going to do with that?" 

I thought he was unstrung by the presence of danger, 
and answered calmly, not to say cheerfully, "Do with 
it? Why, defend myself, of course!" 

McXeal looked at me. I have heard people laugh be- 
fore, but I never have heard any one laugh as he did 
when he threw his head back after that look. His laugh 
was so sudden and loud, so deep and hilarious, that the 
horses jumped. He laughed so long I feared he couldn't 
stop, and was getting hysterical. At last he did stop, 
however, and exclaimed, "You are a tenderfoot! You 
couldn't kill a prairie dog with that!" 

My spunk rose in a minute. I was opening my mouth 
to say something back, when my eye happened to light 
on his revolver. It was a 42 caliber Remington, and 
about eighteen inches long I saw the point. The house 


had tumbled on me. I forgave McNeal. I did more 
than that I laughed. I did not laugh quite so long 
nor so loud as he did, but I laughed. We had consumed 
about four minutes in this occupation, and now looked 
again for the distant cloud of dust. It was still far 
away, but was coming nearer and nearer. At the same 
time the sky was getting darker and darker, for which 
we were duly thankful. We turned our horses towaid 
a clump of scrub oak, behind which we halted. Ten 
minutes later a band of twenty or thirty Indians swept 
by us about fifty yards to the right, passing out of sight 
in the growing gloom. It was a little incident. But 
it might have been a tragedy. 

We reached McNeal's ranch late that night,and upon 
his invitation I remained there several days. It was a 
welcome interruption of the journey. Both I and my 
pony needed rest. The journey thus far had been any- 
thing but pleasant. I had discovered that cricket caps 
were not exactly adapted to crossing the plains in mid- 
summer. My eyes had grown bloodshot and were nearly 
blinded by the glare of -the sun on the sands, while the 
dry heat had swelled my face to double its size. I was 
no beauty in that condition. And it was worse after- 
ward, when my skin peeled off in strips. The few days 
spent at McNeal's ranch did much to heal my face and 
eyes, and when I started on my journey again I was 
not such a bad looking object. We bid each other 
good-bye cordially ; for we had grown quite friendly, 
and I didn't mind it when, as I rode away, McNeal 
called after me, "Oh, by the way, Blank, take good 
care of that pearl handled pistol of yours." 


I rode all that day without any unusual incident, 
and nt night camped near a great boulder. I tethered 
my pony and laid me down behind the shelter of the 
rock. I slept well and woke with the pleasant expec- 
tation of reaching my destination by nightfall. I have 
noticed that one usually does have pleasant expectations 
just before disappointments. When I was well awake I 
looked over the rock to see whether my pony looked as 
pleasantly expectant as I felt. My curiosity was not 
satisfied. Simply because the pony was not there. I 
sprang up in a hurry, and looked all around. He 
couldn't be playing hide-and-seek with me, because 
there was nothing behind which to hide. And on all the 
great expanse of plain there was no pony in sight. 
Coining out of the eastern horizon, however, was a great- 
herd of cattle. They were so far away that I could not 
distinguish one animal from another, and I fancied 
that maybe my pony had grown lonesome and sought 
their company. I didn't fancy seeking their company in 
search of him myself. These wild cattle of the plains 
are dangerous to men on foot. They evidently regard 
him as of a different species from a man on horseback, 
and do not hesitate to attack him. There was nothing 
else to do, however. The herds would shortly spread 
all over the plain to graze, and I should be no safer 
to stay where I was than to go where they were. So I 
started. As the morning advanced herds seemed to 
come from every point of the horizon, scattering out 
until the whole plain was mottled with the formidably 
horned beasts. 

I was beginning to congratulate myself on the fact 


that they did not seem to observe me and was making 
straight for what appeared at that distance to be the 
dried up bed of a shallow river. On the bank stood a 
solitary scrub oak tree, and a short distance away lay a 
huge pile of debris and underbrush, probably thrown 
up by the river during a century of springs when the 
water was high. I began to hope my pony might be 
there A second later I was sure of it, and espied him 
grazing peacefully far down the bed of the stream. Just 
at that moment I heard an angry bellow behind me. I 
turned. There stood a great black bull, pawing the 
earth and tossing his long horns vindictively at me. I 
did not wait to offer an explanation of my own inoffen- 
sive intentions, but made straight for that scrub oak. 
The bull made straight for me. I was up the tree in a 
twinkling The bull stood down below glaring at me. 
When he tired of that he pawed the earth and dug up 
the sand with his horns, roaring ferociously the while. 
We kept up this performance for three hours. At the 
end of that time he wandered off to the pile of debris 
and began goring his horns into that. Then a queer 
thing happened. Queer things do happen sometimes 
even in Montana. A great cinnamon bear sprang from 
beneath the underbrush, and before I could believe my 
eyes the bull and bear charged each other fiercely. They 
fought well. It was as pretty a battle between a bull 
and a bear as I have seen outside a board of trade. 
They were both fine specimens of their kinds, and were 
well matched. At the end of half an hour both animals 
lay on the ground, kicking their last feeble kicks. The 
rest of the herd had watched the battle with interest. 


I daresay they even speculated on the result. At least 
the bulls at the board of trade speculate on results. At 
the end of the battle they sniffed the corpses suspicious- 
ly, and then, throwing their tails in the air, turned and 
galloped over the plain with a unanimous bellow. I 
got off my perch and went in search of my pony, who 
was again out of sight. I found him, however, with- 
out difficulty, and resumed my journey. 

I encountered no other adventures, and reached my 
destination next morning. The ranch which was to be 
my kingdom I found to consist of several thousand acres 
of plains, with a shed-like cabin in the way of "im- 
provements. " Thousands of heads of cattle grazed on 
the plains, beside 1,200 mares. My duties were not 
difficult and my remuneration was to be $2,000 annually, 
beside half of the colts from the mares. 

I fancied it would be profitable if not pleasant, and I 
also fancied I could stand it for a while at least. I 
was mistaken in both conjectures. The mode cf life 
on a Montana ranch is trying. Among its evils are 
isolation and a diet of dried apples and rice. Of 
course, we had company and meat once in a while, 
but neither was very frequent. We had company from 
the far-away civilized world only once while I was there, 
that is, when Lord Dasham paid us a visit. And we had 
meat whenever we could get it. We got it whenever we 
could. Several times a week three hunters would be 
sent out to get it. One went to catch fish, a second to 
shoot geese and the third to kill any edible animal he 
could find. Generally they returned with full cartridge 
belts and empty game bags. As I and the cowboys on 


the ranch were all carnivorous, this enforced vegetarian- 
ism was anything but agreeable. While I am on the 
diet question, I may as well add that our cooking uten- 
sils were limited in number, and that on special occa- 
sions our tin washbasin served as a pudding dish. And 
that reminds me that I have never eaten a more de- 
licious plum pudding than we baked in that tin wash- 
basin the following Christmas. 

Our manner of sleeping was also novel. Down the 
sides of the one long room of the cabin were placed 
the slender trunks of pine trees. At night we threw 
our buffalo robes on the floor, one end over the tree 
trunks, which served us for pillows. During the day 
the logs were used for seats. 

The object of Lord Dasham's visit that fall was to 
instruct me to breed mules instead of horses. I pro- 
tested. Lord Dasham insisted. He said that the 
mule colts from his 1,200 mares would be infinitely 
more profitable than the thoroughbreds I wished to 
breed. I yielded, and throughout the long winter I 
waited anxiously and he hopefully for the spring foal- 
ing of mules. Spring came at last, the snow breaking 
up and making traveling into the mountains, where the 
mares were in the habit of wintering, possible. So 
with a posse of cowboys I started out to round up the 
long looked for crop of mules. After a day's search 
we found our mares but not our mules. At last, how- 
ever, late in the afternoon, we happened into a gully. 
The first things our eyes rested upon were three little 
black objects which we at first took for jack rabbits. 
But when we espied three mares near them I realized 


that this was our crop cf mules, the colts from the 1,200 
mares of which I was to have half. 

Even such a result of his venture did not convince 
Lord Dasham that mules would not pay, and this con- 
firmed my suspicion that in this case at least two heads 
were not better than one. A week later I strapped my 
buffalo robes across my pony the same pony on which 
I had traveled to the ranch and bidding adieu to the 
cowboys and the career of a ranchman, I turned my 
face again toward the East. 

My journey eastward was not attended with such ad- 
ventures as marked my coming West. That is, I should 
say, that I suffered no accidents, although I caused one. 
I had my buffalo robes strapped to my pony behind and 
in front of me, the pile reaching almost to my chin in 
front. I daresay I was a formidable looking object to 
any one seeing me from the front, with my round head 
protruding from this massive mound of shaggy hide, 
which gave my pony the appearance of a monstrous 
long-legged turtle. As the sun was setting on the after- 
noon of my first day's journey I climbed up the western 
slope of a steep hill. On the eastern slope was a squat- 
ter plowing with a pair of mules, and as I approached 
the summit from the west he approached it from the 
east We saw each other. The mules stopped stock 
still as if suddenly petrified, and then throwing their 
tails into the air, turned and fled across the plains. The 
squatter stood with his eyes glued to my advancing 
monstrousness I can't say form, for I had none with 
an expression which said that escape from such an an- 
tediluvian monster was clearly impossible. As I passed 


on he turned as if moving on a pivot and continued 
gazing after me, horror fixed on his face. As far as I 
could see him he still gazed, and is probably gazing yet; 
and judging by the velocity with which his mules shot 
across the plains they must be running yet. 

On my way back I passed through Rapid City, now 
a place of 00,000 people, but then a ranch and a black- 
smith shop. I was keeping company with the stage 
which then ran between Buffalo and Miles City, and 
the stage driver said to me as we passed the blacksmith 
shop, "If you want to get rich hop off and squat here; 
the Northwestern road will be here inside of two years, 
and you can own a million iri no time." That seemed 
so absurd that I laughed. I am laughing with the 
other side of my mouth now. Suburban lots there are 
now worth $500 apiece. 

At Miles City I had a big, juicy steak, the first I had 
tasted since leaving Omaha. Afterward I took the train 
for St. Paul. 

At St. Paul I fell in with two old acquaintances, 
Major Roe and Captain Gray. They were talking of 
taking a ranch. I suggested that they go to Cincinnati 
and start a horse exchange instead, backing up the sug- 
gestion with an intimation that there was a fortune in 
that business. The idea of a fortune pleased them, 
Gray in particular. Gray was a highflyer, and when- 
ever he had a fortune he kept a tiger and drove four 
thoroughbreds. Naturally he would like to have a for- 
tune. There are a few people who don't care much for 
a fortune, but he was not one of them. Neither am I. 

So we all came to Cincinnati and started a horse ex- 


change. Soon we were all on the highroad to riches. 
Gray was beginning to look around for four thorough- 
breds and a tiger. It was not to be, however. We 
were going up the road too fast, and were dooming our- 
selves to come down faster. One unlucky day I went 
over to Michigan to buy horses. I bought 100, making 
a deposit of $10 on each horse. Two hours after paying 
the last deposit I sat in my hotel waiting for a draft 
from Gray to pay the balance and take the horses back 
with me, when a telegram was handed me. It was from 
Gray and read. "Cannot send you any money. Every- 
thing lost." 

I didn't understand, so I took the next train to Cin- 
cinnati to find out. On the way I occupied myself 
conjecturing whether Gray had been burglarized, been 
burned out or gone crazy. I hoped it was the latter. 
There is some hope for a man who has gone crazy, but 
none for one who has been burglarized or burned out to 
such an extent that "everyth ing is lost. " Conjecturing 
was neither profitable nor pleasant. So I was natur- 
ally glad when Isaw an old man sitting opposite me who 
looked as though he might be grateful for a little at- 
tention. He was sick, unused to traveling and a dear 
old soul beside. I brought him some coffee from a way- 
side station, and made him as comfortable as I knew 
how. I have never seen any one so grateful for small 
favors When we reached his station I put him into a 
cab, while he pressed my hand and begged me to come 
and see him should I ever pass through his town. I 
promised and hurried back to the train, 

When I reached Cincinnati I discovered that Gray 


had neither been burglarized, burned out nor gone crazy. 
He had been speculating. He told the truth when he 
said that "everything was lost." Everything was lost, 
completely, irretrievably lost. I also lost the deposit 
on the 100 horses, not having the money to pay the bal- 
ance on them. I don't blame Gray. He had a tiger 
and four on the brain, and I daresay he felt that he 
couldn't wait much longer for them. A man is hardly 
responsible when he has something on the brain, es- 
pecially a tiger and four. 

I stayed in Cincinnati about two months. Nearly 
every week of that time I had a letter from the old gen- 
tleman whom I had met on the train. Every letter was 
an invitation, each one more urgent than the last, to 
me to come and pay his wife and him a visit. I was 
feeling rather sore against the world at that time. I 
didn't care much to visit anybody. But at last the in- 
vitation became so urgent that I yielded, and one 
afternoon found myself strolling up Euclid Avenue, 
Dupeton, to my new friend's residence. The residence 
in question was an old-fashioned mansion standing in 
a large garden. On the steps sat an old lady of about 
seventy-five years. 

"Is Mr. Blanchard in?" I asked her. 

"No," she answered, "but he will be soon. Won't 
you sit down?" 

I sat down. 

"Shall you go to the races tomorrow, Mrs. Blanch- 
ard," I asked, for I surmised that the old lady was 
Mrs. Blanchard. 

"No," she answered, laughing, "who would take au 
old woman like me?" 


"I will," I said, but before I could say more Mr. 
Blanchard appeared before us. He greeted me with the 
greatest cordiality and introduced me formally to his 
wife. We spent an unusually pleasant evening together, 
and before we parted for the night they had a fair knowl- 
edge of the ups and downs of my life, while I knew that 
they were a childless old couple pining for a pair of 
strong young hands to do for them. 

Next morning after breakfast I went downtown to 
see some friends who had brought horses to the races 
which were coming off that day. "Don't forget to be 
ready to go with me to the races, Mrs. Blanchard," I 
said as I left the house. 

"You wouldn't take an old woman to the races, 
would you?" she asked. 

"Of course, lam going to take you," and off I went. 
Two hours later I was back with a carriage. Mrs. 
Blanchard was just as I had left her, clothed in a wrap- 

"Why, Mrs. Blanchard," I cried, "I'm afraid you'll 
have to hurry, or we'll be late." 

"Good Lord, my boy," she gasped, catching sight of 
the carriage outside, "I didn't believe you were in ear- 
nest! I thought you were joking!" 

"Not joking at. all. Get ready at once." 

"My lands, my dear boy, I haven't had anything on 
but a wrapper for twenty years, "and the dear old soul 
dropped into a chair, overwhelmed with the idea of 
"dressing up. " I told her that that was all the more 
reason why she should put on something else now, and 
with that I hurried her into her room and shut the door 


on her. Then I sat down on the stairs awaiting the 
transformation. I waited half an hour. Then I rapped 
on the door and an excited voice bade me "Come in." 
I went in. There stood Mrs Blanchard before an open 
trunk full of dresses of a past age. She had on a silk 
dress which must have been handsome twenty years ago. 
It was slightly out of date now. More than that, it 
only went half way around her, and she was tugging for 
dear life to get it the rest of the way. 

"It's no use, my boy, it's no use," she gasped, all 
in a flutter, "I can't get this on." 

"Oh, yes, you can," I answered, and with that I 
took hold of the gown and pulled it together. She was 
greatly relieved and laughed heartily, her old eyes 
twinkling merrily. 

"I must wear my diamonds today, that I haven't had 
on for twenty-five years, " and with that she hobbled 
to an old-fashioned marble top table, swung the top 
aside and revealed to my astonished eyes a glittering 
bed of the finest diamonds I have ever seen. They cov- 
ered the entire bottom of the receptacle, the cover of 
which was the marble top. There were brooches as big 
as saucers, earrings, rings, pins, tiaras, lockets and 
necklaces, all of the goodly size fashionable fifty years 
ago. From this mass she took out a massive brooch, a 
pair of earrings, half a dozen rings and a jeweled 
watch. These she put on and announced proudly that 
she was ready. 

I don't believe I have ever created such a sensation 
in my life as I did that day. I had gotten the best car- 
riage the local livery boasted of, aDd with this old lady 


by my side, her old-fashioned gown sparkling with dia- 
monds, trailing old-fashioned earrings almost touching 
her shoulders and her wrinkled old face beaming brighter 
than her brightest gem, I felt prouder than the proverb- 
ial peacock. She was the cynosure of all eyes, as the 
books say, and all my friends and I knew every horse- 
man there were flustrated to know who she was. 

That evening I was aware that Mr. and Mrs. Blanch- 
ard were having a private consultation. The next day 
I was let into the secret. They wished me to stay with 
them, to be "their boy," as they called it, to take 
charge of their property while they lived and to inherit 
it when they died. I demurred. They insisted. In- 
sistence is as good a quality as perseverance, and after 
several days of indecision I yielded. The property, val- 
ued at $50,000, was made over to meat once. We cele- 
brated the event with a dinner, at which I was intro- 
duced to their friends as their adopted son. 

The papers got hold of the story and chronicled the 
occurrence in the largest type as a rise "From a Cowboy 
to the Owner of a Euclid Avenue Mansion." Had I 
been fond of notoriety I should have been in my ele- 
ment. Before I knew it I had more friends than I could 
count. I was bowed to and smiled upon and scraped be- 
fore until I was tired. 

This lasted about three mouths. Three months is a 
long time for good fortune to last. Then I went tD 
New York on business. While there I thought the old 
people ought to have an outing after so many years of 
seclusion. So I sent back several trunks full of material 
and sent an order to the beat dressmaker and tailor 


of the town to make it up in a hurry and in the latest 
style. Then I rented a cottage at Coney Island. That 
done, I hurried back to bring on the old folks. 

I reached home about three o'clock one gloomy after- 
noon, and hurried up Euclid Avenue to the place I now 
called "home." The word had a sweet sound to my 
ears, and there was a warm, tender place in my heart 
for the dear old folks who had been so good to me, and 
as I hurried along I found myself humming softly the 
tune of "The Old Folks at Home." To my surprise the 
front of the house had a shut-up look. I thought 
"mother" and "father" might be out very likely were 
down at the dressmaker's and tailor's trying on their 
new clothes. Going around to a little side door which 
led directly into "mother's" own little sitting room, I 
was still more surprised by the appearance of neglect 
about the garden. There was no sign anywhere of the 
gardener or housemaids I had left in charge. I had 
only been gone two weeks, and my indignation began 
to rise at the advantage taken of my absence to shirk. 
Pushing the sitting room door open, I stepped in. I 
had been surprised before, but I was dumfounded now. 
In one corner sat Mrs. Blanchard, her head drooping 
sadly, and opposite her sat two strange men with hawk- 
like faces. 

As the door opened Mrs. Blanchard looked up quickly, 
crying out joyfully when sho saw me, "My boyl" 

I hurried to her and kissed her. "What is the matter? 
What has happened?" I asked 

"Father" she sobbed, "father is deadl" 

"Why did no one write to me?" 


"They told me you would never come back that it 
wouldn't do any good to write, "and sli3 indicated with 
her feeble hand the two men. I turned upon them, and 
remembered them as two of the "distinguished" law- 
yers of the town 

"What do you mean?" I demanded. "How dare you 
come here and frighten this poor old lady? What busi- 
ness have you here? Get out this minute! Get out, 
I tell you* or I'll pitch you both into the street." They 
did get out. They got out quickly. And as they van- 
ished through the door they muttered threats and curses. 

Once alone with her, I got the whole story from Mrs. 
Blanchard. No sooner was I out of town than these 
lawyers came to whisper to the old couple that [ would 
never return. The old man fretted day and night, and 
being very feeble it only required a few days for the 
worry to kill him. Then the lawyers brought forth a 
claim to the property in behalf of a so-called relative. 
The relative, they said, must not be deprived of his 
rightful inheritance by Mrs. Blanchard bestowing her 
fortune on me. The relationship of the relative in 
question began and ended in his being the widower of 
an adopted daughter of Mrs. Blanchard who had died 
long ago. The lawyers smelled fat fees, and egged the 
"relative" on to claim his "rights." Of course, it 
could not be denied that the Blanchards had a right to 
dispose of their own property. That was a small ob- 
stacle to a lawyer, however. A person or two to say 
that Mr. and Mrs. Blanchard were insane. And of course 
if they were insane they could not be expected to dis- 
pose of their property properly, I was pictured as 


designing villain who had inveigled the irresponsible 
old people into giving me their fortune. Under such 
circumstances there was only one thing to do. A 
guardian must be placed over them. Mr. Blauchard's 
death afforded an excellent opportunity to carry out 
this plan. Mrs. Blauchard was ill. I was away. Every- 
thing would be working smoothly by the time I returned. 
It worked very smoothly. My return was merely an 
interruption. Interruptions, however, are sometimes 
troublesome. This one was so to the full extent of my 

But what is the use of going into the details of all 
that followed? It is sufficient to say that I had little 
money at the time to fight the case, and that there were 
pitted against me a gang of unscrupulous lawyers, who 
used the "relative" as a figurehead. The best people 
of the town took up my case, but once in, such lawyers 
never let go as long as there is "booty" insight. I was 
advised to leave the city. I did so. A week later I 
received a telegram that Mrs. Blanchard was dead. The 
property is still recorded in my name, but probably the 
greater part has been frittered away by the lawyers for 
costs, and what remains is guarded by them with hawks' 

It is not every day in a man's life, nor every man 
who has a fortune bestowed upon him from mere good 
will. That, nevertheless, is what nearly happened to 
me twice in my life. The first time I have just de- 
scribed. The second happened shortly after that. After 
leaving Mrs. Blanchard I finally landed in New York. 
I was working out some inventions at the time, and 


rented an office in a large office building on Broadway. 
The head janitor, old Pierre, was a Frenchman who 
had fled from his country during the stormy days of 
the Commune. He was an intelligent, not to say in- 
tellectual man, and he and I became great friends. He 
had no other friends and no relatives in this country. 
Age and ill health were creeping upon him, and as he 
weighed nearly 800 pounds I found many opportuni- 
ties of helping him in little things. 

Our friendship lasted for two years. By that time I 
had my inventions completed, and one morning packed 
my valise to go to Washington to secure patents. With 
my railroad ticket in my hand I ran down to bid Pierre 
good-bye. I found him sick in bed, to my surprise and 

"Don't go, my boy, don't go," he said. "I don't 
believe I shall ever get up again." 

I laughed at his fears, telling him he had many years 
of life before him yet, and that he must not give way 
to a little rheumatism like that. After a few words 
more I bade him good-bye, saying as I passed through 
the door, "Cheer up, Pierre, I'll be back soon." 

At Washington a telegram awaited me. It was from 
Pierre's lawyer: "Pierre Lambert died this morning 
You were in his will for $30,000. He died with pen in 
hand trying to sign the will. Not being signed, the for- 
tune goes to his relatives in France." 

I had never known before that Pierre had a fortune. 
But I now understood the meaning of his habit of al- 
most miserly economy, which was the one fault I had 
ever found with him. 


By the skin of my teeth, so to speak, I had lost two 
fortunes. After reading that telegram I had a fit of 
the blues. Men do have the blues when things go radi- 
cally wrong with them, and I felt now that fate was 
against me. I was more than ever convinced of that 
when I fell sick the day I reached Washington. I was 
sick for three months. I recovered, however. People 
always do recover if they don't care whether they do or 
not. After recovering I was involved in a tangle of 
red tape concerning the patents. I suppose red tape is 
an invention of the gentleman with the cloven hoof to 
test the endurance of unfortunate mankind. At any 
rate it took so long to unsvind this red tape that before 
it was done with my means were exhausted, and I was 
ordered out of Washington by my physician if I valued 
my health. And so ended my hopes of making a for- 
tune out of my inventions, at least for the time being. 
I have noticed since then that it is only the man with 
money who does not get involved in red tape. Money 
is the best axle grease I know of. 

As a matter of fact, all my downs have been caused 
by a lack of capital. I suppose I might have had 
plenty of other people's money had I wanted it, but 
while I have many disagreeable memories of "downs" 
I have the satisfaction of a conscience which is, upon 
the whole, very much up. And, if I have anything to say 
about it, it's up to stay. I have only wronged two beings 
in my life, and both of these were true friends. One 
was Flirt, whose devotion I repaid by selling her; the 
other was a man for whom I was handling about $500. 
I was down at the time. The board of trade seemed 


to offer a fortune in D. and L. The temptation to 
riss at a bound was great, and I plunged, and lost. I 
have never repaid that money nor has my friend ever 
asked for it. Those are the only instances of moral 
turpitude of which I am guilty. 

A month later I found myself in St. Louis, My next 
venture to make that inspirer of friendship money 
was to deal in horses. My pet scheme for a month or so 
was to hold a big combination sale of fine horses, my 
commission on which would be enough to set me up in 
business. The first thing necessary was to get a place 
large enough, convenient enough and well enough 
known to attract and accommodate a large crowd. 
There was only one such place in St. Louis, a large 
horse pavilion at the race tracks, I went to the man- 
ager of it and secured it for three days. After the dates 
were fixed he asked me what I wanted it for. The wis- 
dom o f . the serpent has never been one of my virtues, 
and I told him, with all the guilelessness of the dove. 
Perhaps I even expected him to rejoice in my antici- 
pated success. He said he thought it a good scheme, 
and I left him with a cordial handshake Probably I 
was even pleased that he should have corroborated my 
opinion and said it was a good scheme 

A day or so later I went out to complete the arrange- 
ments for the use of the pavilion. Imagine my aston- 
ishment to see posters on every fence within a mile of 
the place announcing a "Grand Combination Sale of 
Fine Horses!" The place named was the pavilion I 
had secured and the date given was just one week earlier 
than niy sale I I concluded then and there that the 


Dearest relative of the born fool is the man born guile- 

I was not to be cast down, however. I went home 
and schemed a scheme. It was a good scheme. My 
particular forte is good schemes. I wanted to tell it 
to somebody. That is a way I have when I have a 
good scheme. But I put my tongue under lock and 
key, and therefore came very near succeeding. Th& 
scheme was to establish a grand horse bazaar which 
should ba the center of the horse interest of the state. 
It would be the scene not only of one combination sale 
of fine horses, but of monthly combination sales. There' 
should be annual horse shows to which the elite ot bothi 
East and West should come, and there should be; 
monthly shows to which the "400" of the city should! 
come en masse. Best of all, money would be coined 
there for all concerned. 

This may sound very Utopian, but I will show you 
that there never was a more practicable scheme in the 
world. Within six weeks I had secured a pledge of 
$100,000 capital ; I had a plan made of the bazaar build- 
ing and the site for it selected. Within four months 
the St. Louis Horse Bazaar was a reality, and a grand 
electric show opened it to the public. In the show ring 
were some of the finest horses ever sold in the city, and 
in the galleries was the local "400" in evening attire. 

The Bazaar prospered, and my hopes mounted high. 
I ought to have known by this time that rising hopes 
are only the shadows that disappointment casts before. 
I soon found that harmony was not to accompany pros- 
perity. Select twelve men from an average citiful,and 


nine times out of ten you will have all the elements 
necessary to stir up broils. I found it so in this case. 
Jealousy was the Nemesis of the place. This vice was 
the principal ingredient in the character of one of the 
persons connected with the Bazaar. This one, a mere 
counter-jumper and pill-maker, who had made a small 
fortune in wielding the mortar and pestle, played the 
part of the flea in the dog's ear. I daresay he couldn't 
help himself. He was probably born with the instincts 
of the flea. And a man born that way can no more 
help backbiting than a hornet can help stinging when 
it is sat upon. A flea is not nearly so noble a pest as the 
hornet, however, for it bites just for the sake of kick- 
ing up a row, and I humbly ask the hornet's pardon for 
using him as a comparison. The person in question 
proved the evil genius of the Bazaar The backbiting 
he couldn't do wasn't worth doing. In fact he had 
quite a reputation in that direction I suppose a flea, 
if it is particularly active, will get a reputation, and a 
reputation must be upheld. I shall never say of this 
person that he did not uphold his reputation. It doesn't 
make much difference to the flea what sort of a dog he 
bites. It's just the same to him whether it's a thor- 
oughbred or a cur. So it was with this person. Whether 
it was the largest stockholder or the smallest stable 
boy, he always had time to bite him. Personally fleas 
are obnoxious to me. I don't like their company. I 
can't help hating fleas any more than fleas can help bit- 
ing. So I resigned. I was sorry to resign. But when 
it comes to a question of resigning or of associating 
with fleas, I'll resign every time. 


It is my opinion that if ill luck follows a man in any 
line of business or walk of life, he should change his 
line of campaign entirely. And as I also believe that 


a man should practice what he preaches, that is what I 
have done. My last departure was to become a jour- 
nalist. I have become quite a success as a journalist. 
It is said by my confreres that the scoops I can't make 
don't exist. I can't truthfully say that journalism is the 


royal road to riches, but there is a certain amount of 
glory in it. And glory is the best salve I know of for 
the absence of wealth. In fact there is a good deal of 
picturesque effect in the combination of glory and an 
empty pocket. 

But when I have finished getting glory I shall begin 
to get riches. I have schemed another scheme for that 
purpose. I have learned to combine the wisdom of the 
serpent with the harrnlessness of the dove, and therefore 
I shall not say what the scheme is. In carrying out my 
scheme, however, I shall specially avoid fools,fleas and 
"distinguished" lawyers, and with this precaution I 
don't doubt that I shall go up the ladder three rounds at 
a time. It is a truthful saying that experience is a good 
teacher, and having been whaled a good many times 
by that teacher I shall always remember, no matter 
how safe my footing on the ladder of success may be, 
to look forward and backward for the man who is al- 
ways ready to trip up his fellow men when success at- 
tends their footsteps. 

I have always thought it a man's duty to give ad- 
vice. Giving advice is like giving alms, the man who 
gets it is less grateful to you than to the fellow who tells 
him to hustle for himself. At the same time advice 
is the quintessence of a man's experience, and I have 
always held that if a man has any incense to burn he- 
should do it where the largest number of people could 
get the aroma of it. If there is any one who doesn't like 
the smell he can get out of the way. There is room 



enough in this world for everybody, and the man who 
does not like the ways of other people can get away 
from them; he doesn't need to wait for them to change 
their ways. They won't do it. Religion has not made 
men change their ways, and it's not likely that they'll 
do it to suit some fellow like themselves. So if any 
man doesn't want my advice he needn't read it. A 
book of psalms or a dime novel is just as cheap. For 
the benefit of those sensible men who can take some 
one's else word for it that fire burns, I give this 


It takes all kinds of folks to make people, and of 
course they have various notions about things; if they 
are only honest in them it's all right so far as I am 
concerned, but I can't bear hypocrisy. 

I have seen the world and its people in all their 
phases and stages; they are nearly all alike, and my 
conclusion is that a man's best friends are his pocket- 
book and his dog. I would rather have a wag of my 
dog's tail than the shake of most men's hands. 

There is a pile of selfishness abroad, so don't expect 
your friends to be free from it. 

Don't find fault, it will do no good; it is every man 
for himself and the Lord for us all, so get into the trench 
with your shovel arid start in with a will. There is no 
salve for discontent so good as keeping busy. 

Don't go round whining; people will despise you, and 
you won't have the consolation of knowing that you 
don't deserve it. 

Respect yourself; it is the best way to make other 
people respect you. 


Don't call upon your friends during business hours; 
it annoys them, and many small annoyances make 
cold friends. Friendship is friendship; business is 

Don't stick your nose into other people's business; 
they know all about it and can take care of it without 
your help. 

Don't go to church and pose as a saint when you 
know that you are an unmitigated hypocrite. Instead, 
employ that amount of effort to be honest; it's a virtue 
you can acquire, and it goes a good way. 

Don't give way to every temptation to be irritable; 
it only makes matters worse. 

Be courteous; courtesy is cheap. Take nothing from 
your friends except civility and you will never be in 

Don't tell your troubles to your friends, they have 
enough of their own. 

"Laugh and the world laughs with you; 

Weep and you weep alone; 
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, 
But has troubles enough of its own." 

Keep a still tongue; it's a wise head that has one. 
Don't tell your secrets to your friends; you can't ex- 
pect your friends to keep them if you can't. At the 
same time, don't violate your friend's confidence if he 
is foolish enough to confide in you. 

Keep up appearances; appearances go a long way, 
even if confined to a clean collar and a pair of polished 

Don't break appointments; if you make one keep it if 


you have to crawl on your hands and knees to do it. 
Your word should be as good as your bond. 

Clothes and money won't make a gentleman; honesty 
and politeness may. Both are cheap; get all you can 
of them. 

Don't wear your heart on your sleeve; the world is 
unsympathetic and will feed its vultures on it if you 

If you have money you will have friends, but when 
poverty comes in at the door, friends, like love, will fly 
out of the window. 

You will often be told to "get money honestly if you 
can, but get it by hook or by crook," but I tell you 
that if you get it by crook it will do you no good, and 
will vanish like magic. 

Rely upon your own individual exertions; if you 
won't exert yourself for yourself nobody else will do 
it for you. 

Go to bed early, get up early; think, think, think, all 
the time; plan, plan, plan, all the time; but don't let 
your left hand know what is in your right hand it 
will borrow it if it can. 

Don't get discouraged; if you meet with repulse at 
the first breastworks, gather your strength and go at it 
again. That is the way great battles are won. 

Some men are born afraid. To such I would say, 
"Whatever you are afraid of, don't be afraid of a man; 
take the flesh off him and he will only be a grinning 
skeleton like yourself." 

Don't give up your trust in God. At the same time 
"keep your guns ready and your powder dry." Take 
plenty of sleep, but keep one eye open. 


Get in out of the wet; the rain falls on good and bad 
alike, but it's generally the bad fellow who has the 

Don't mistake honesty for stupidity, and don't be 
stupid if you are honest; you will surely get fleeced if 
you are 

I was taught to live up to the golden rule, "Do unto 
others as you would have others do unto you," but the 
silver rule seems to be preferred by the present gener- 
ation and reads, "Do up others before they get a chance 
to do up you." 

It would be very pleasant to live in an atmosphere 
where you could take a man's hand as his bond, and his 
word equally as well as his note,but don't be persuaded 
into thinking you can find it on this earth. Here it 
is a case of dog eat dog, every man for himself, and the 
devil take the hindmost. 

But even while you know that men are unworthy, 
don't be afraid to do a kind act sometimes; set the 
world an example once in a while. A helping hand to 
the man in the ditch may go a good way toward helping 
him to help himself. 

What I don't know about the ways of the world isn't 
worth knowing, but I still meet some men that I would 
:go across the street for. 

If I have any flowers to give away, I want to give 
them to my friend before he dies, and not wait to strew 
them on his grave. 

Toot your own horn, and keep on tooting it. Nobody 
else will toot it for you ; everybody is too busy tooting 
his own. 


But remember that all blowing and no work is a good 
deal less effective than all work and no blowing. You 
can't work too much, but there is a limit to blowing. 

Don't wear broadcloth when you can only afford 
jean. You may not cut as good a figure, maybe, but 
it's better to stoop to jeans in order to conquer broad- 

Don't do anything else that you can't afford. Ex- 
travagance leads to debt, and debt is the highroad to 

Learn to love labor; you won't succeed without it, 
and liking it will prevent discontent. Besides, it is a 
good physic as well as a builder of muscle and stamina 
of character. 

"If in this world you wish to win 

And rise above the common chump, 
Take off your coat and pitch right in, 
Don't wait, lay hold, hang on and hump. 

"Don't wait until the iron's hot. 

But make it hot by muscle; 
Don't wait for wealth your father's got, 
Take off your coat and hustle." 

Don't get married until you can support your wife, 
yourself and one or two other people, beside laying 
something by for your family to live on after you are 
dead. That is only just to your family. 

Justice properly comes before generosity, but don't 
spend so much time in doing justice that you won't 
have a little time to spare for generosity. 



"Time will set all things right and justice will light 
in the right place, though it may seem to be a long 
time in lighting." 


"Don't you fret! 
Everywhere the country glows, 
Every garden has its rose; 
Weather's fine and mostly sunny 
Every hive is full o' honey. 
Don't you fret! 
Some day we'll get 
Every pocket full o' money!" 





ro KLL Houses COHSieneo TO Me. 




Auction Sales Every Tuesday and Saturday. 

Private Sales Every Day. 

REFERENCES: National Live Stock Bank. Chicago, and Drootrt National Bank, Chicago. 







\ \ 









(0 & 

UJ : 

a \ 

2 id I 

1 &=t 


L ^J2 

9 JixJc 

: SI2 




Live Stock Commission Merchants 

Room 12. Ech>nie Buildinij. 

Union Stock Yards. + + t CHICAGO, ILL. 















Wd5worth Commission Company 


124 Eachanfe Ituil 



Commission Merchants. 



Live K6omniisslon Dealers 





Commission Merchants 




Room 188 Exchange Bldg. Uimn Stock y.i..)<. 


Shattuck Pa\son Company 

ffcoom. ltO-112 gckmj 8Mng 



Union gtoc* Yards. /-(CHICAGO, ILL. 



Union Stock Yards. CHICAGO. ILL. 






Live Stock Commission Merchants, 


1 1 "iEi. "" ! """~ Union stock Yards - 









28 ElCbaniK EUllMnfl. Union SlOCk 1 



Commission Merchants 












Live Stock Salesmen and Brokers. 
. . . CAPITAL and SURPLUS. $250.000.00 . 


...DOUD & YOUNG CO... 

Commission Merchants 




Office. 51 Exchange Building, 
m Mock Yards, Chicago, 111. 

A. E. HORN & GO.. 


(Commission * ^1 ore bants. 

Union Stock Yards. - CHICAGO. IL-b. 

'Sfffft (* iISvA: 

\\V-htx r & Thompson (J<iiiimi- 

rfUVt STOCK >. 

Commission jV\erchants, 

Union Slock Yirds, 

>CHICACX), nx. 


Livte StocU Commission 

Union Stock Yards. 








Butterfield & Bortell, 


17. EictaKK BIUIn f . 

i SIMS STOCK >..i.. Chicago, III. 



Geo. Adams & Burke Co. 

LIVE STOCK ConnissioN, 



"torn,* fiali >/ V/MWso/ ^--." 





Commission Merchants 








...WM. O'RILEY & CO... 



Room 1,11 Euluno Bu.Urn,. 

Unloit Stock Yanls, CHICAGO. 

, SON & CO., 

Union Stock Yards, CHICAGO. 

RONEXUAU.M Jlltos. * Co, 






c , 







D. GUTHMrtN & CO. 




L. '^. 




Office. 139 Exchange Building. 





.,..., O,,..,,T,O....... CHICAGO, ILL. 



A. S. GREEN & CO. 
Livestock Commissionnerchants 

Union Stock Yards, Chicago. 

J.W. BURTON &. Co. 



H. P. SIEH & CO., 


Union Stock Yards. - CHICAGO. 


Live Stock Camniiiion Merchants 






o. 18] N,. Cutap Mfec. 

..HT!!i"I^1^_ 'Union &toc* Prt. 

"S^--"' .^ . . . CHICAGO 

Brown Bros. & Ballinger, 

Live Stock Commission Merchants. 




Commission JVIercKarvts 




j - wooo* M v eM 

Room 155 new Exchiife '-""-f - 
Union Stock Yards. CHICAGO. ILL. 




A. D. LAMB &, Co., 




H. B. STECK & CO.. 



uio STOCK VAMn. 




1220 MonadnOCk Bldg.. Cor. Jackson and Dearborn Sts., CHICAGO. 

HARRISON ARMS, Pres. and Gen'l Manager. 

W. A. YAGER, Sec'y and Treasurer. 


Any distance not over 300 miles, - $12.00 500 to 2000 miles, - - 3 cents per mile 

300 to 500 miles, .... 15.00 Over 2000 miles, 1 cent additional lor each mile 


Can you afford to ship your horses In any other car when this will land them at destination 
worth 820. to $25. more per head? 

Horses in this car will not shrink and are not liable to bruises. 

Harness, Saddlery, etc. 

Mr. Gelder has been established tor many years in the harness and saddlery business in this city 
and has become one of the most reliable and progressive dealers in that line. Mr. Gelder's business 
has Increased in such volume that it has necessitated his moving to commodious quarters at 2134 
Michigan-ave., where he has a fine store and factory. He employs ten to fifteen skilled harness 
makers, and manufactures as a specialty fine coach and buggy harness, beside all kinds of single 
and double harness, saddles and bridles of all descriptions. He also deals in all kinds of horse, turf 
and stable goods, blankets, whips, etc., both imported and domestic. His motto is 'Live and let live.' 





THE object of this little "adv." is to 
tell you where 1 am and what 1 am 
doing. It may not interest you to 
know today nor tomorrow nor the 
Dy next day, but some day you will come to 

Chicago with live stock and then, per- 
haps, you will want some clothing and 

It's an easy matter to tind a clothing 
store when you want one very easy 
especially in Chicago. There are stores 
_ here that sell good clothing and some 
that do not. When you arrive at the yards and 
are in doubt as to which one to patronize, you 

are n ou as o wc one to patronze, you 
will find a dozen runners, with big tin badges on, 
each one ready to direct you "to the best and 
only" place and to warn you to look out for the 

I came to the Stock Yards last fall and opened a 
clothing store. I had a "runner" then, too. 1 
thought I needed him. He told me 1 did. He was 
a "runner" in every sense of the word. Wanted 
to run everything even the l.usiness. Then I 
"fired" him. It was a costly expeiiment, but the 
lesson ittaught me was worth it. It has caused 
me to change my mind about -'runners" entirely. 
I do not believe any intelligent man wishes a 
"runner" to tell him where to buy and where not 
to buy. It is a reflection on his intelligence on 
his judgment and the information is too costly. 
Besides, no man can sell goods as low as 1 do and 
kee a "limnr." 

as es 

eeve n gvng im just what he pays or. 
ese are the principles upon which this business 
s established upon which it is conducted and 
upon which it shall be conducted to the end. 

If people prefer to buy their Hats, Furnishings, 
Shoes, as well as Clothing, of me, it is because they 
have found it profitable to do so. 


4162-4164 S. Halsted St., 

Union Stock Yards, Chicago. 

Shoes. Hats, Furnishings. Jewelry, Trunks. 

Wtn , K. Pattison Alexander B. Shaw, 

Pattison & Shaw, 


, Q ( Cor. 42nd and Halsted Streets. 
; 1 79 Clark Street. 





218 La Salle Street, CHICAGO. 

We make a specialty of selling by sample BARLEY, WHEAT, RYE, OATS, 
CORN, FLAX and TIMOTHY SEED. Grain, Seeds and Provisions for future 
delivery bought and sold 011 margins. 

Always keep 

You will always 
be prepared for 

E. V. McConkey & Co. 



Telephone Ma in 2228. 


Of men, women and children permanently cured without pain or the slightest in- 
convenience by the FIDELITY METHOD. Every case guaranteed. Patients 
need not pay a dollar until completely cured The truss discarded forever. Over 
8,000 cases cured in the last five year<=. Consultation free. Send for circulars. 

FRANK H. WRAY. M. D.. Suite 305, 167 Dearborn St., Chicago, 111., U. S. A. 

To Horse Shippers! 


"The Niagara Falls Route." 


. . BETWEEN . . 


To give the greatest possible accomodation and advantages to shippers of 
Live Stock from the West to Eastern points, the Michigan Central Railway 
Company has inaugurated a fast 

Live Stock Train 

from Chicago to Buffalo. 

This train leaves the Union Stock Yards, Chicago, every evening (Sundays 
excepted) at 6:00 p. m., reaching Buffalo the following day at 2:00 p. m., thus 
arriving in Buffalo in the afternoon for those desiring to ship further to m ke con- 
nection with fast trains on all diverging lines. 

A Comfortable Coach 

is rwi on each train for the arcomodation of, and special attention given to, the 
want? and comfort of shippers of live stock. 



G. T. Mgr., Detroit, Mich. Stock Yards Agent. 



A flexible curry comb on a rubber back, 
which makes theCLEANER adjustable to every 
part of a horse's anatomy. Nothing about it to 
wear out. Horse owners should order it through 
their denier. If he has none in stock and will not 
order it for you, send us 35 cents in postage 
stamps and we will send you a Perfect Horse 
Cleaner by mail. 

CALHOUN ATFG. CO., 3657 Wabash Ave., Chicago, 111. 


Removes Bone Spavin, Ring-bone, Curbs and Splints, in from 5 to 8 days, without 
pain or injury to the animal. Price, posipaid, $2.25 


Removes calloused bunches of all kinds, Bog Spavin, Thoroughpin, Capped Hocks, 
Shoe Boils, Sprains, Bowed Tendons, Filled and Strained Tendons restored to 
normal condition in f rom 5 to 15 days. Indorsed by leading Horse men of the 
country. Prepaid, $2.25. 


The only remedy known that curts all cases. It never fails. Every bottle sold 
under positive guarantee. Used and endorsed by hundreds of cattle men and far- 
mers. Price, fi.oo Send to THE C. & M. HORSE REMEDY CO., 3150 
Cottage Grove Avenue, Chicago, 111., for testimonials from prominent Hotse and 
Cattlemen. The C. & M. Remedies can be ordered from any Wholesale House in 

H. H. CARR. 

3HIP Vour Grain Yourselves 

to the primary market and SAVE the 
Middleman's Profit. 

There la no reason why farmers should con* 
tlnue hauling; their grain (o their nearest sla* 
(Ion, sell Ing It to the grain buy erfor whatever 
In- chooses to oflcr lor II , when they can ship II 
HUT Ives and obtain as much for It as the 

When shlpplrigtb Chicago, farmers give only 
the legiil number of pounds to a bushel, re- 
celve fair weight*, state Inspection and ret 
paid for all the grain they raise. The disposal 
of his grain In a business like way thus secur- 
ing the best price possible Is fully as Import* 
ant to the farmer as to raise big crops. Write 
for full Information how to ship. Address, 

H. H. CARR & CO., 

Commission Merchant*, 
94 Board of Trade, - Chicago, 111 

Best of references. 

The (Chicago 

REACHING with its 7.966 
miles of road the famous 
Water Powers. Coal Fields. 
Iron Ore Ranges. Hard and 


Soft Lumber Districts located ^ 
in Illinois. Wisconsin. Michigan. Iowa. Minnesota. South 
Dakota. North Dakota. Nebraska and Wyoming, and by 
traffic arrangements with other railways, 7.35O stations 
located on 4I.OOO miles of railroad (one-ninth of the 
entire railroad mileage of the world, and one-fourth of 
the railroad mileage of the United States), has on Its 
line more industries than any other western railroad. 


Manufacturers contemplating moving o 
establishing branch factories In the Wes 
are requested to Inquire what we can offe 
them before locating elsewhere. 

H. R. McCULLOUGH, Gen. Traffic Mgr. M. HUGHITT, Jr., Gen. Freight Agem 




Apply to E. P. SKENE, Land Commissioner, 


U.S. Standard Scales 

Of All Varieties Manufactured by 


The Premium Wagon Scales of the World. 

Require No Pit. 
Quality the Best. Prices the Lowest. 

Also Railroad Track, Depot, Elevator, Warehouse 
Mill, Platform, Counter and Family Scales. 


We also sell a thousand specialties at less than usual wholesale 
prices, including Engines, Boilers, Blacksmith's Tools, Safes, Sewing 
Machines, Bicycles, Buggies, Carriages, Harness, Saddles, Mills, Corn 
Shellers, Feed Cutters, Organs, Pianos, Watches, Clothing, &c. &c. 
Circulars and information free. CHICAGO SCALE CO., Chicago. 111. 




.Look Successful! 

The Diamond is the Most Beautiful 
Stone in the World.... 

The Diamond wearer looks successful is successful! 
The world moves too rapidly to make slow conclusions. 
"Laugh and -the world laughs with you." Wear Dia- 
monds, look wealthy, and then the world is with you in 
the chase for wealth on the Board of Trade, in the bus- 
iness office, on the Boulevard, at the Reception, or in the 
Ball-room, life is sweetest to the ever successful wearer 
of Diamonds. 

YES! Wear a Diamond. 

Be Successful! Wear a Diamond. 

The South African Off-Color 


% Carat each, $1.50 1 Carat each,3.00 

y. Carat each, 2.00 1H Carat each, *.f>0 

DC Carat. ...each, 2.50 2 Carat each, 6.00 

Mounted in Rings, Pins and Studs 
at $3 00 to $25.00 

Send 10 cents for our large ill- 
ustrated catalogue and whole- 
sale price-list. 

We can save you money on 

We will till orders from any 
Chicago catalogue. 

The Sears Jewelry Co., 

225 Dearborn Street, 

No. 1025. Gent- s ,li,l Ni.'kel, Open Face Horse Timer, 1-5 Second and Minute Register. Reliable 
in every way. Each, ta.OO 




For Home and Export Trade. 


* * Union Stock Yards, * * 



Carriage' Gob and 
'- p Saddle Horses 

For Home and Export Trade. 

...... BEST REFERENCES ..... . 

ADDRESS ........ Union Stock Yards, 


Veterinary Surgeon, 





Studebaker Bro's, Chicago, 

378-388 WABASH AYE. 

Fine Carriages 
and Driving Traps. 
The latest correct 
styles for town and 
country, and the 
show ring. 

Special high- 
grade domestic 
and imported Lon- 
don Harness, Sad- 
dlery and Sporting 
Novelties, correct 
Military Accoutre- 

Very lowest prices quality and style considered. A fine dis- 
play. Call and see us in our new quarters. Hail orders 
promptly attended to. 



Director's and Other Sires' Foals of 1894 

At Private Sale after January 1, 1896, out of 
Race Marcs and Great Producing Dams. 

For particulars, price etc., address 

A. H. MOORE, Proprietor and Manager, 

1711 Spring Garden Street, Philadelphia 

or COLMAR, Montgomery County Pa. 

Thick, Swollen Glands 

can be removed 
. . with . . 


or any Bunch or 
Swelling: caused by 
strain or inflam- 
mation. $2.00 per 
bottle, delivered. 

W. F. YOUNG, I'. 1>. F., 

No. 34 A mli. r-t St.. SpringHeUI, Mass. 


L. A. MELZE, M.D., D.D.S., & SONS, 

Superior Dental 
Parlors \^r 




DR. MELZE, SR., or one of his sons 
personally attends each patient. All 
work guaranteed and kept in repairs 10 
years Free of Charge. 

Open till 9 p.m. Sundays 4 p.m . Lady 
Assistant. Phone 1596 Main. No Pain. 
Gas if desired. 

Painless Extraction 50 cts. 

Best Set $8.00 

Gold Fillings $1 .00 Up 

22 Carat Gold Crowns $5.00 

No charges for Painless Extraction where teeth are ordered ; by a new process of our 
own we extract teeth absolutely without pain. 

"I had 12 teeth extracted by Drs. Melze absolutely without pain. My daughter had 
teeth crowned and bridged also painless." ME. GOULD, 736, 60th St. 

Inter Ocean Building, 2d floor, 209, 210, 211 Cor. Madison and Dearborn Sts. 


Xouis Weber's 

Pawnbroking Establishment 


Liberal Advances on All Kinds of Personal Property at Lowest Rates. For Sale at 
Less than Half of New Cost 


Diamonds, Watches, Clothing, Musical Instruments 


Open Evening's until o'clock.