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AT THE FORKS OF THE GRAND Mr. John Williams who is in the employ of Mr. Ernest Clump, met with an accident the other day as he was drawing hay in which he hurt his hip. While climbing up the mow and about ten feet 1 from the barn floor, he slipped and fell to the bottom, injuring it. People often speak of the horse-days as the good old days. During that era, they say, a man could buy an excellent trotter for $250 and a smart buggy for $ioo, and could expect both to last for at least ten years with very little depreciation. People, they say, did not need to mortgage their homes to own a horse and rig. And they add that no license or insurance policy was required to operate a horse, that oats were cheaper than gasolene, shoes cheaper than tires, and a good currying and brushing cheaper than a repaint job. Life, according to these enthusiasts, was more leisurely and people more friendly. On the country roads, vehicles stopped while the occupants had a little chat. And farmers waved to strangers passing before their fields, and usually insisted that all chance callers who came near meal-time should take an honored place at the table. Furthermore, according to the horse-day enthusiasts, life was then more dignified. A well-to-do gentleman, since he ordinarily walked and so could not proclaim his rank and affluence by driving a big car, attired himself in elegant clothes and accessories. He variously wore a Prince Albert cut-away and morning clothes; hats such as the sailor, bowler, beaver and top; striped trousers; and ' fancy vests. He affected the starched collar, solid-gold watch-chain and cuff links, diamond studded cravat-pin, silk umbrella, and gold- headed cane. He affected, too, a dignified mode of perambulation. On Sunday, when he led his family to church, he was particularly elegant. Majestically he trod the board-sidewalk. Gracefully he raised his tall hat and bowed to passing ladies. These same people say that Christmas is not what it used to be. On Christmas Eve in the time of the horse, an excited child could easily imagine that Santa Claus and his reindeer were close by when he heard jingling bells whirl past the door and off into the dark night. They say, too, that parades, without plumed cavalry-men in gaudy uniforms that recalled the gallant knights of old, are dead and colorless. And they insist that the severing of the emotional bond between horse and man has been a loss to the individual and the whole community. On January 26, 1916, The Star-Transcript reported the death of a livery-stable horse that had been a "general favorite" for twenty years: No horse . . . was more often asked for. He will be missed. It is difficult to imagine The Paris Star in 1956 reporting the rusty demise of an old dump-truck. Perhaps those who fondly remember the horse-days are right. But there are others who remember the swarms of mice and rats that bred in stables near the oat-bin; and the flocks of English sparrows 218