ment of the "green hand," and was heard to remark to his engineer that he was "beginning to like that boy; could trust him to do anything he was told to do, without following him around and seeing that it had been done."
One morning Joe Fleming found his name marked up in the yardmaster's office for a "road run"—that is, he was to work on a train running the full length of the Division, which was about seventy miles. By this time he had become so well acquainted with the crew and yard where he worked that the new order was a disappointment. Upon asking the yardmaster if it were really necessary for him to leave the yard crew, he was told that all brakemen were expected to work where they were placed, until employed on the road long enough to be given a regular run, or a steady yard job. Joe was melancholy that evening, for he thought of having to associate with a different set of men, perhaps more profane and rough than those he had been working with.
Returning to his boarding house, Joe went to his room and took up the companion which he loved better than anything on earth—his violin. A few minutes later as Mrs. Sullivan walked through the hall she heard the mournful strains of the instrument and remarked to one of the boarders:
"That boy can play the saddest pieces I ever heard; there seems to be tears in them sometimes. I wonder
