AT THE SIGN OF THE STOCK YARD INN 



this unique organization and their many guests, any 

 adequate explanation of the reason why we find 

 there so much to admire and even reverence? Gould 

 words be found that might serve even in slight degree 

 to give outward expression to what is inwardly felt 

 by many of those who frequent lovingly the SADDLE 

 AND SIRLOIN CLUB? And my fancy at the moment 

 took this turn: 



Stranger within our gates, whoe'er thou art, 

 Within these silent walls ye may commune 

 With lofty spirits of a mighty past, 

 Rich in achievements wrought in fruitful fields 

 And benefactions rendered human kind. 



Here have we builded us an inner shrine 

 Wherein the wrangling of the busy market place 

 Obtrudeth not; whereto, in quiet hours we come 

 To cast aside each selfish sordid thought 

 And pledge ourselves to high ideals anew. 



So now, dear reader, if you would follow me in an 

 effort at sketching broadly some of the stories that 

 cluster around the SADDLE AND SIRLOIN CLUB, I bid 

 ye summon to your aid at once that intangible attri- 

 bute of the human intellect, that essence of the soul 

 perhaps by whatever name it may be called that 

 lifts man high above the level of the brute creation: 

 the power that can irradiate with living light dim 

 places and dumb walls or hang a halo round the 

 apparently commonplace. It comes not quickly at 



