In fact, we are moving toward first-class and second-class passenger service by leaps and bounds. Less than twenty years ago the New York Central established its Empire State Express between New York and Buffalo, and, by means of the almost marvellous resources of its advertising department, made it the most famous train in the world. Save for a single parlor car or two, it has always been a day-coach train, no excess fare being charged. Yet for many years (in recent years its running-time has been slightly lengthened) it was the fastest regular long-distance train in the world. Still, in the judgment of railroaders to-day, another Empire State would be a mistake, even though the original is, day in and day out probably one of the most popular and profitable express trains in the world. But the judgment is different: the Lehigh Valley, running the competing Black Diamond, between New York and Buffalo, has already found it advisable to make its equipment all Pullman. * * * * * Just as the travelling passenger agent forms the stock from which many of the general passenger agents are finally formed, so does the country agent aspire to the day when he will be given territory and sent out with his gripsack, to sell transportation upon the road. Sometimes, though, as in Daly's case, the road to traffic titles comes by way of the city ticket-offices. These form an important function of the railroad's passenger department. They are regulated carefully, through an inter-railroad harmony, as expressed in the great national passenger associations. We have already seen how they sell mileage-books and "scrip" on their own account. For instance, a sort of tacit agreement specifies how many ticket-offices a railroad may maintain in a given city. Otherwise, the biggest and richest road might completely overshadow its weaker neighbor in the number as well as in the magnificence of its agencies. So an unwritten agreement, which is as strict in its way as the law on cutting rates, states that this city may have so many offices for any road, and that so many. It has become an exact rule. The city ticket-offices, situated at advantageous corners in the various busy centres of metropolitan towns, and towns having metropolitan ambitions, save the average man a long trip, perhaps, to the station. They will sell tickets, check baggage, answer innumerable questions. Answering questions remains one of the big functions of the passenger-man. Only recently, a sign was hung in a city ticket-office of one of the large railroads in New York, which read: "Remember that we are Here to Sell Tickets as well as Give Information."