Do you want figures so that you may see the might of this army? Binghamton, N. Y., is a city; a little less than fifty thousand persons live there. If the whole population of Binghamton--every man, woman, and child--were poured through the portals of this terminal on any one of six mornings of the week, it would be about equal to this suburban traffic. In a single hour--from seven to eight--45 trains have arrived under the roof of this shed and discharged their human freight; in the following hour, 64 trains empty another great brigade of the army from without the city walls. * * * * * The city gate is indeed a busy place. Its concourse or head platform echoes all day long with the unending tread of shuffling feet; beyond the fence, with its bulletins and ticket-examiners, is the vault of the train-shed, a thing of great shadows, even in midday. Its echoes are also unending. There seems to be no end of pushing and shoving and hauling among the engines; there must be an infinite stock of trains somewhere without. The human stream flows all the while. The marvel of all this is that the terminal, which seems so intricate, so baffling, is under the control of one man--a man to whom it is as simple as the ten fingers of his hands. This man is keeper of the city gate. His watch-house is situated just without the big and squatty train-shed. It is long and narrow, glass-lined and sun-filled. Through its windows he keeps track of those who come and go. "There's Second Seventeen, with them school teachers coming back from the convention out at Kansas City. Put her in on Twenty-one so's to give the baggage folks a chance. Them women travel with lots of duds." These are orders to his assistants and orders in that watch tower are rarely repeated. The assistants are in shirt-sleeves like their chief, for the sun-filled tower is broiling hot. They nod to one another, click small levers, and Second Seventeen--a long train of sleeping-cars coming into the city in the hot moisture of the early June morning--is sent easily and carefully in upon track Twenty-one in the train-shed of the terminal. There you have the explanation of that order that was meaningless to you but a moment ago. Track Twenty-one is nearest the in-baggage room of the station. With two cars, piled roof-high with heavy trunks, the thoughtfulness of the towerman in sending the special upon track Twenty-one will be appreciated by the baggage handlers. A vast amount of manual labor will be saved; and that counts, even upon a cool day. [Illustration: THE NORTHWESTERN'S MONUMENTAL NEW TERMINAL ON THE WEST SIDE OF CHICAGO] [Illustration: THE UNION STATION AT WASHINGTON]