"Whatever may have been the conditions in the past, it is a fact that today the greatest care is exercised in the shipment and handling of the stock from the time they leave the farms until they reach the packing houses. The price that the animals will bring in the pens depends upon the conditions they present under the eye of the buyer, who represents the packing houses, and it is to the interest of the farmers, the cattlemen, and the commission men, to whom the cattle are consigned at the yards, that they shall receive the best food and the most careful attention up to the very hour at which the sale is made. They are shipped in special stock cars, in which they are carried as expeditiously as possible to the stock yards, where they are unloaded and driven to the pens. Here they are at once fed and watered, each pen containing a feeding trough and a water trough, into which a stream of fresh water is kept running. "The cattlemen consign their stock to the various commission houses, and for receiving and selling the stock, there is a charge of, respectively, twenty-five cents and fifty cents a head. The purchase of the cattle is made by buyers, of whom each of the packing houses maintain a regular staff." "About 1845, a bold editor left Buffalo, New York, then the greatest lake part of the country, and bravely ventured as far into the rowdy west as Chicago. Possibly the people here received him with generous hospitality; perhaps they treated him with something even more warming to the inner man; or it may be that as they filled him with solid chuck and, perhaps, with less solid refreshments, they took occasion to remark, with that modest and restrained hopefulness for which Chicago people have justly received credit, that Chicago was destined to become a town of some importance. Be that as it may, when that editor luckily found himself once more safe within his sanctum, he gave vent to his joy and overflowing gratitude by writing wild, enthusiastic predictions concerning the future of the town, which was then aspiring to rise above the rushes and wild rice of the Chicago river. "Reckless of the opinion of the readers of his paper, perhaps trusting to their ignorance of the conditions of the out of the way place, this bold editor predicted that the day would come when Chicago would have an elevator capacious enough to hold 25,000 bushels of grain, and that in a single winter season, 10,000 cattle, and as many hogs, would be slaughtered and packed there.