226 AT THE SIGN OF THE STOCK YARD INN 



builded by the kings of France. To the sound of 

 the horn and the sharp note of the lash, the great 

 diligence bearing the royal mails and laden deep 

 with passengers and their gear comes into view. A 

 rush, a roar of wheels, and the great freighted coach 

 is gone. 



Agriculture calls: down the long furrows see the 

 shining plowshares deeply driven. The mellow earth 

 awakens, and lo, the stored up riches of a fertile 

 field await the seed. Long is the journey and re- 

 peated oft. From "early morn to dewy eve" the 

 living shuttles travel, back and forth; but weight 

 that wearies not is harnessed. 



And yet again, last scene of all: a busy modern 

 city street. Huge vans and trucks are rumbling 

 ever on the granite blocks. Big grays and blacks 

 march proudly to the music of a nation's commerce. 

 Power, patience, dignity personified. Glory be to men 

 who can produce such prodigies! 



Such is the prologue. Now for the drama proper. 



First an old brick farmhouse underneath great 

 oaks. The town of Elgin, 111., some five miles dis- 

 tant. North, east, west and south well-managed 

 fields as far as the eye can reach. A country that 

 knows and never loses sight of the value of golden 

 hoofs in husbandry. Live stock has kept the dis- 



