annulment of her marriage. Finally the connection became like a troubled dream. In his sleep he would dream that he had been reunited to his love, but when he awoke it was with a sense of relief that the experience was not real.

In the meanwhile Smith accumulated wealth. He had opportunities to marry, but did not know whether he had a legal right to marry and in any event did not care to mate with any of the Spanish women he met in South America. At last, after twenty years' sojourn there, he sold out his possessions and returned to the land of his birth.

Such was the early experience of Mr. Smith, who when past middle life found himself out of business, with no family and with no other home than a hotel. He had made some inquiries concerning his girl wife and her people, but had learned nothing. He endeavored to find evidence that his marriage had been annulled, but had failed. Indeed, an annulment could hardly be within the law, since he had not received any papers in the case.

Mr. Smith and Miss Jones were drawn together by a similarity of position. Both needed a home. Smith decided to ask her to marry him. Should he tell her of the uncertainty hanging over him? If he did she would, should she become his wife, live under that uncertainty, whereas if she knew nothing of the matter she would have nothing to worry about. Twenty years had passed without his hearing of his girl wife, and he thought it probable that if she were living she had married again.

When Mr. Smith proposed, Miss Jones told him that she had had an attachment in her youth that she had never entirely recovered from, and she thought he should know that there was a bit of her affections that she could never give him. He replied that he, too, had an affair of the heart, and on this point they were quits. His conscience smote him for not telling the whole story, but he felt it rather a kindness than an injustice to her to refrain.

They were married as persons of their age usually prefer to be married-privately. Indeed, so little attention did the groom pay to preparations that when he stood up

to be married and the clergyman asked for the wedding ring Mr. Smith was thrown into confusion by the discovery that he had neglected to provide a ring. But the bride came to the rescue. Slipping a ring off her finger, she handed it to the clergyman, and the services proceeded without any further interruption.

From the church the couple were driven to the station, and from there started on a wedding journey. Seated side by side in their private compartment, Mr. Smith reverted to the only contretemps that occurred in the marriage ceremony.

"What a stupid blunder I made in not providing a wedding ring! When I gave you the solitaire at our engagement I supposed it was all that was required of me. I had forgotten that when I was-" He stopped short.

"Forgotten what?" asked the bride.

Still there was no answer. Instead he asked to see the ring with which he had married her. She refused, saying it was connected with the early affair of which she had spoken when he proposed to her and he must content himself always to see it on her finger without an inspection.

"It's not an engagement ring," he said, "for it is a plain gold circlet without a stone. It's more like a wedding ring."

The blood mounted to the lady's cheek. She showed signs of collapse.

"What troubles you?" asked the groom anxiously.

"I should have told you. I have been married. The ring is the one used at my first marriage."

As she spoke she drew it from her finger and handed it to him. Inside were the initials "E. M. S. to I. J."

"Why, 'E. M. S.' are my initials-Edward Morgan Smith."

"There are thousands of Smiths," she stammered. "I knew your first name, Edward, which is a common one, too, but I didn't know about the Morgan."

They were looking into each other's eyes, wondering.

"Are you Belle Jones?" he asked. "I didn't think about the Belle, and I supposed you were Isabel."

"Heavens! Can it be"

"It must be."

"Married twice with the same ring!" he exclaimed, clasping her in his arms.

"How can we have been married twice," she said presently, "when we have been married only to each other?"

"You are right," he replied. "Though our original marriage was annulled, it was not legally annulled. We have just gone through a useless ceremony."-By HELOISE BRAYTON, in Lancaster Labor Leader.

THE AGENT OF OWL CREEK JUNCTION.

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HERE'S no use, Jim," said Laura Bingham; "we can't get married and live decently on forty dollars

a month, and that's all you get from the railroad and all you're likely to get even if you are promoted. You know yourself that conductors on your road get only $60. We'll have to give it up."

Jim Perkins saw the force of his fiancee's argument. He resolved to apply for a position that would take him away from her.

The terminal of the road was on the Missouri River, and at that time a number of railroads were pushing out into the great American desert. Jim wrote an application for the position of station agent on the frontier. He had no expectation of any notice being taken of his application and intended to leave the service of the road, anyway, and go West. What was his surprise to receive by return mail an appointment as station agent at Owl Creek Junction, a point out on the plains not far from the Rocky Mountains. Jim had another surprise. The salary as station agent at Owl Creek Junction was a good deal more than he had been getting.

With a sad heart he started for his new field of labor. On the way he asked about Owl Creek Junction and learned that it was looked upon as one of the most promising points on the road. True, at the time the population in the vicinity were a lawless lot, such as usually precedes the better class who begin the real development of new countries. But the branching of a great thoroughfare was sure in time to make Owl Creek Junction a city.

This welcome encouragement caused hope to arise in the breast of James Perkins. He had $50 that he had saved when he expected to marry Laura Bingham, and he resolved to invest it as soon as he arrived in a town lot. He did not expect to get a lot for so small an amount in the center of the place, but would be satisfied with one on the outskirts.

Hopeful youth-that leads one on through dreams to realities, ending either in success or failure! After all, are not such visions better than pessimism, which undertakes nothing, accomplishes nothing?

The nearer Jim got to Owl Creek Junction the more he learned about it. One bucket of cold water after another was dashed over him till he received the bucket itself, which struck him with such a force as to stun him. The conductor in charge of the last section of the road gave him a true picture of Owl Creek Junction, and made it plain to him why he had been appointed agent there.

The nearest house to the Junction was a mile. The country round about was infested with jayhawkers and horse thieves. No agent at the railway station had thus far been able to collect money for tickets from 60 per cent of the persons who traveled on the road. They either demanded tickets without pay at the point of the revolver or used the same implement to pass the conductor without paying a fare. But the usual method was to call for a ticket at the station, get their hands on it and walk away, forgetting to leave the cash for it. There had been five agents within six months. Now the last one appointed was eagerly waiting for his successor to take charge of the station.

Jim received this terrible backset shortly before the train drew up at Owl Creek Junction, and his heart sank down to his boots. When the train stopped at his new home he looked upon as desolate a sight as he had ever seen in his life. There was a station, a water tank, a fuel house and nothing else except an open stretch of country inhabited principally by the prairie dog, the sole vegetable product being the

cactus.

As Jim stepped off the train, a man came out of the station expectantly. A bandage covered his forehead and his left eye. His arm was in a sling.

"The new agent?" he asked of Jim. "Yes," replied Jim, faintly.

"Well, come in here and I'll turn over the property. This train goes back in half an hour, and I propose to go on her."

"Been hurt?" inquired the new agent. "Slightly. I was fool enough to try to collect the price of a ticket from a rustler. I advise you not to try it, but if you're bent on doing so, you'll find a couple of 44-caliber revolvers in the drawer under the ticket window. The company sent them out for the use of agents who were bent on making collections."

Jim received the contents of the ticket office and receipted for them in time to see his predecessor step on the train happily and pulled away to civilization. The puffing of the locomotive gradually died away in the distance, to be replaced by an absolute silence. Jim would have liked to hear the hoot of even an owl, but there were no trees for an owl to roost in, and he wondered how the creek got its name. He looked for a place in it deep enough to drown himself in, but it did not afford even that.

It was 5 o'clock in the afternoon of the day after Jim Perkins arrived at Owl Creek Junction. Jim was sitting at a desk with his hat pulled down over his eyes. He was at the lowest, or rather, the highest point of desperation. A train was due in ten minutes from one of the branches of the railroad, going eastward. A man with a red face, a stubble beard and one eye, stepped up to the ticket window and said: "Young feller, gimme a ticket to Antelope and be quick about it."

Jim arose from his chair and stepped to the window. He had laid a cocked revolver beside it where it could not be seen. He took down a ticket from a rack, stamped it, and holding it in his hands, said:

"Three dollars and forty cents, please." A glare came in the ticket purchaser's eye, and he put his hand to his hip. There was a report, but not from his revolver,

Jim had snatched his own weapon, brought it to bear on the purchaser and fired.

When the train reached the station the conductor stepped down on to the platform and went into the station. A man's body was lying on its face below the ticket window.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I've been sent out here," replied Jim, "to sell tickets for money. That man wanted to go to Antelope without paying his fare. He can go free as baggage, I reckon. You'd better help him on to the train."

The conductor looked wonderingly at Jim for a few moments, then said: "By cracky! You're a cool one. think you can keep this up!"

Do you

"I'll keep it up till I get killed, and I'd rather get killed than remain a railroad employe, especially at Owl Creek Junction."

The conductor succeeded in getting a brief account of the affair from the only living participant, then, not wishing to get behind time, called the man in charge of the baggage car, and with his assistance carried the body on board the train. Then there was a whistle, and the big snake crawled away over the plain.

Jim Perkins did not have to kill any more men at Owl Creek Junction station. The news that the railroad company had sent out an agent who meant business circulated, and after that would-be passengers paid their fare. Jim since he had begun the work would not give it up till he had proved that he was master of the situation, then wrote to the president of the road that the population, under the influence of the railroad, was beginning to change, and he thought that any agent could collect for tickets there. He would like a station in a more settled locality.

A reply came notifying Jim that another man would relieve him and he was to report at the general offices of the company. When he reached the terminal and showed his order to a man at a desk, he was sent up to the office of the president.

"H'm!" said that officer. "I believe you are the man who collected fares at Owl Creek Junction?"

"I am, sir," replied Jim.

"I'm sorry I haven't another place especially fitted for your peculiar abilities. What kind of a position would you like?" "Any you happen to have vacant. I've been railroading all my life. I don't know anything else."

The president tapped a bell. An office boy entered, and was directed to call the superintendent. When that gentleman entered, the president said to him:

"Mr. Bowers, this is James Perkins, recently station agent at Owl Creek Junction. Make him a train dispatcher, and as soon as he learns the duties of that position give him the next job in the scale. A man who could make Owl Creek Junction a paying station must be good for almost anything. At any rate, try him."

Before entering upon the duties of his new office, Jim went to see his sweetheart, and told her of the change that had come over his fortunes. Jim's salary was quite sufficient to warrant their marriage, and their engagement was renewed. Jim passed through a number of grades, and finally became president of the road, besides making a fortune. Throughout all of his administration he was known as one devoted to the welfare of the thousands of employes of the road under his management.-By F. A. MITCHELL, in Express Gazette.

A

CHILDREN'S TRAITS.

LTHOUGH all parents watch with love and admiration the gradually unfolding mind of a child, few take the trouble to note down their doings, which have a scientific interest. Why children do certain things is a problem in which philosophers find no end of research. Every one has noted that bright colors attract young children, and so do noises, especially discordant ones.

The little child is often bewildered by the number of things he sees and sounds he hears, and as he is very much alive, he wants to pay attention to them all, so begins with the most striking.

Children certainly like pictures, for the reason given, because it is so much more easy to see things than hear what people tell them and make up pictures in their own minds from what they have seen that is

similar, and perhaps they can not make up the picture or image or "imagine it," as we say so can not follow what is said.

Children are also pleased with soft music but in a different way. Who has not seen a child hushed to sleep or calmed after a fright when the mother sings some soft lullaby? The child does not say in so many words that he likes it, but the effect shows it. Little children often "sing" or croon themselves to sleep. A child would not be likely to ask for soft music, because if he were lively enough to ask he would want lively music, to be in harmony with his feelings.

Children "make believe" a very great deal and it is generally found that the children of doctors play at being doctor, and shopkeepers' children at keeping shop. This is partly because they love to copy what they see others do, and partly because they feel that they are part of a household of active people and must take their share of work, so begin at home, and learn the first trade or profession at hand, while some one can show them the way.

The manner in which children use ink and coal, and break their toys, just shows how anxious they are to find out about these objects, what they are made of, and how put together. It is true that children will walk through the wayside puddle whenever they get an opportunity, but is this not for the same reason? They will find out about the things around them, and as we are so careful to keep them away when we can, they go when we can not do so, and all the more readily when we only command without giving our reasons.

The love for "Bo-peep" comes when the child is old enough to think for himself; it is a separation of himself from his mother. When hidden by handkerchief or table he feels that he can "be" without his mother, but the joy of being found again shows that he would not really remain away from her.

The habit of calling strange things "old" may very likely arise from his feeling them different from himself and his young companions, and, as older persons' appearances and ways are often different, he classes many strange things among "old ones."

A common peculiarity of all healthy children is a desire to climb. In the country children climb trees. In the city they use lamp posts, telegraph poles, sheds and fences.

Froebel the originator of the kindergarten says:

"It is not alone the desire to try and use his power that prompts the boy almost as soon as he can walk to seek adventure high and low, far and wide; it is particularly the peculiarity and need of his unfolding inner-most life, the desire to control the diversity of things, to see individual things in their connection as a whole, especially to bring nearer what is remote, to comprehend the outer world in its extent, its diversity, its integrity; it is the desire to extend his scope step by step.

"To climb a new tree means to the boy the discovery of a new world. The outlook from above shows everything so different from the ordinary cramped and distorted side view. How clear and distinct everything lies beneath him! Could we but recall the feelings that filled our hearts and souls in boyhood, when the narrow limits of our surroundings sank before our extended view, we should not cry out to him, 'Come down! You might fall.'"

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PRINCIPLE FIRST.

HERE are many employers who devote a part of their time to concocting schemes for shackling their employes in order that they may be the more timid, docile and subservient. The scheme most commonly practiced with this end in view is that of selling a few shares of stock in the business to employes with the assurance that the employer is much interested in the welfare of his subordinates and wishes them in this way to share in the profits of the industry. This plan is calculated to operate to the benefit of the employer in a double capacity-by inducing the worker to work harder and reducing his desire to engage in efforts for improvements in wages and working conditions for all employes. It is the endeavor in selecting the stockholding members of the force to pick out those who are likely to wield some influence upon their fellows

and thus persuade them by argument and fear to refrain from agitating or voting for improvements in their unions.

Just how this scheme works out for the poor dupes of employes was very aptly illustrated in a recent instance in San Francisco. Two employe stockholders stayed at work, just as the employers had anticipated they would, when the unión called them out. The employers, after getting these poor fools in as stockholders, decided to conduct an "open shop" establishment, and the union proceeded to tighten up the screws even though the two men had failed to respond to the strike call.

The union interested has a system of mortuary benefits graduated according to length of membership as well as an oldage pension system which requires twenty years of continuous membership to qualify. Both of the stockholders were qualified for the $500 death benefit and the old-age pension of $5 per week. Both were expelled from membership, thus forfeiting all benefits. After eight days' of struggle the "open shop" employers were completely defeated by the union and entered into an agreement to conduct a union establishment and sacrificed the two stockholder fools who had allowed themselves to be misled by the soft words and glowing promises of the scheming employers.

They now realize that their unions are worth a thousand times more to them than are the empty promises of greedy employers. It is of course true that the real unselfish trade unionist never gets caught in such a trap, because if a strike is called he goes with the union even though he does hold stock in the unfair concern. He is willing to sacrifice the little the stock would bring him rather than betray his fellowworkers by remaining at work in a struck establishment. Not so, however, with the wageworker who is just as greedy as his boss and who only lacks the opportunity to become just as vicious a slave driver. He gets caught in the clutches of the designing employer through the medium of his own greed and is entitled to very little sympathy because of this fact.

It pays always to be loyal to principle. The man who joins a union and then vio