the city yards.

The economical end will not cover all the sins; that is, the repression
of cruelty on an efficiency basis. Repressed cruelty will not altogether
clear the air, nor laws. A true human heart cannot find its peace,
merely because cruelty is concealed. There was a time when we only hoped
to spare the helpless creatures a tithe of their suffering, but that
will not suffice now. A clean-up is demanded and the forces are at work
to bring it about.

Formerly it was granted that man's rise was mainly on the necks of his
beasts, but that conception is losing ground. Formerly, it was enough
for us to call attention on the street to the whip of a brutal driver,
but it has been found that more is required. You may threaten him with
the police, even with lynching; you may frighten him away from his
manhandling for the moment--but in some alley, he is alone with his
horse afterward. His rage has only been flamed by resistance met. It is
he who puts the poor creature to bed.

The fear of punishment has always been ineffectual in preventing crime,
for the reason that the very passion responsible for the crime masters
the fear.... It is difficult to discuss these ravages on a purely
physical basis, for the ramifications of cruelty are cumulatively
intense, the higher they are carried. Ignorance is not alone the lack of
knowing things; it is the coarseness of fibre which resists all the
fairer and finer bits of human reality. Just so long as men fail to
master the animals of which they are composed, the poor beasts about
them will be harrowingly treated.

So there are many arms to the campaign. Specific facts must be supplied
for the ignorant, an increasingly effective effort toward the general
education of the public; but the central energy must be spent in lifting
the human heart into warmth and sensitiveness.

On a recent January night, an animal welfare society had a call to one
of the city freight-yards where a carload of horses was said to be
freezing to death. It was not a false alarm. The agents knew that these
were not valuable horses. Good stock is not shipped in this precarious
fashion. It was a load of the feeble and the aged and maimed--with a few
days' work left in them, if continuously whipped, gathered from the
fields and small towns by buyers who could realise a dollar or two above
the price of the hide--to meet the demand of the alley-minded of the big
city. The hard part is that it costs just as m