Newspaper Page Text
* -AN. EXHORTATION, ...~
"Tis belter to be skilled in making salad.
Than versifying sweetest song or ballad,
Yor mem,. ’tls'sgud. is but a hungry sinner
Devoid of sentiment “til after dinner, :
So, i the way you'd find into his heart
Essay not verse, but culinary art. :
2 K —Louige Taber,
_-h—-———h
z\w\n\m\mwl\mz
=
2 Fanry [ales. 2
Paul sat on a low stool facing the
fire, kis breakfast spread on a great
armchair beside him. Beside the egg
and the toast and the glass of milk
there was The Book, with its cover
wondrously decorated in red and
gold, popped open at the picture of
the princess. As he finished the last
morsel of buttered toast and began
quite slowly on the egg—one kept the
egg always for the last—he turned
his eyes meditatively on the nurse,
“What could one do to grow large
—as large as you—llarge enough to
fill this big chair?” he wondered,
thoughttully.
Mary was pinning on her cap at
the mirror. She spoke with difficulty,
her attention on her task.
“Ob, eat much and sleep much and
be very gcod and obedient.”
“Hat and sleep—and be good,”
Paul summed up concisely. “Does it
take long?”
Mary turned her laughing eyes on
&im, euriously. “Not very long,” said
she. “Why does he want to be big,
I wonder?” He reached gravely for
The Book and opened it quite slowly
to the plaece.
“I should like,” said Paul, ‘“to eat
downstairs, where Simpson waits,
and to go places with—with her, and
to see what happens after she kisses
me good night.”
“Oh!” said the girl, in an odd it'le
voice. :
He thumbed the pages wistfully.
“I suppose it rather surprised her
—having a little son,” said he. “The
prinees in this are all big, and I sup
pose she wouldn’t know quite what
to do with me if I went down now—
I wouldn’t—fit in. But I don’t seem
to belong to her up here, somehow.
Mary dropped upon her knees and
patted his legs comfortingly. They
were rather fine little legs, straight
ard shapely, and rosy-browa above
the socks. ;
“Don’t you now?” said she. Her
eyes grew very narrow and bright as
they always did when she was
thoughtful or cross.
“I tell you! |Let’s have a sur
prise?” she proposed brightly.
“A sur-prise!”
“Something nice when she won’t
expect,” explained the girl. “Shall
Wwe have it?”
“Yes, let’s!” cried Paul eagerly.
“Is it something about being big and
eating downstairs and being with—
‘With her? What is it?”
Mary hugged him tenderly. “It’s
sleeping in her very own bed with
her!® ghe said impressively. * “Would
Yyou like it—just for onee! And when
she wakes up she will find you!”
Paul put hig arms around her hap
pily, “When—when will it be bed
time, please?” said he.
* * # * * - &
The boy opened his eyes on a
strange world. Before him stretched
a wonderful view, waving, fluttering
billows of soft blue silk. His little
body was almost buried in downy
sheer pillows. He had never been in
this place before, but somehow it re
minded him of her, perhaps because
the faint, very faint blossomy smell
that she had was here, too. Suddenly
he remembered. He breathed a
quaint little sigh of content; then he
opened his eyes again, amazed. Soft
strains of music were floating in to
him. Very cautiously he pushed back
the curteins and peeped out.
The room was as dainty and blue
as the bed, and was dimly lighted by
a pale blue lamp in the alcove. He
orept out of the bed scarcely breath
ing, and, half-awed, approached the
window. It was black outside, and
the familiar sky was strangely lit
with many twinkling lights. He was
five years old, and he had never seen
the stars! He dropped down on his
knees and gazed at them estatically.
“How pretty—how pretty!” he
murmured softly, and then, remem
bering, he drew a sharp little breath
and added, “How very clever, too!”
Outside the musie was running on
dreamily. He scratched his head an
instant, reflecting, and started slowly
for the half-open door in his bare feet
and pajamas. And so, in his journey
of inspection and exploration, he
came, unheard, upon the two uvon
the stairs—a pale, slim, little face, all
eyee and tiny, quivering lips.
* * * * * * .
“If only you were not unhappy,”
said the man Sslowly, “I—why—l
comld bear it then; that would be
enough for me; but—"
« “I am happy,” said the Princess
tremulously. She raised her roses to
her lips to hide their piteous trem
bing, and dropped her eyes,
"“Last week-—yesterday, perhaps 1
might have thought otherwise, but to
night—to-night, I know that I have
everything—everything my neart de
gires.” .
“Everything?”
She nodded, her face turned away
to escape the pain in his eyes; her
own were very soft and dark and
pitying in the half light, and a little
wistful.
“Yes,” she repeated, “everything,”
The man fastened his glove intent
ly and looked off somewhere into
spaee. . e
“I believe,” he said, grimly, “that
you are breaking your heart.”
“No, no,” she cried, softly, “but 1
am breaking yours again. Ohy if I
‘might make you happy—if I might!”
_“Why not?” he asked earnestly,
“Why?” o
She leaned over thonghttully, her
‘eyes on the people below them:
~ “You wouldn’t understand,” she
said; but she half eclosed her eyes
and seemed about to go on; so he
waited quietly. ’
“When I married,” she said slow
ly, “you—you know the story. We
gave each what we wished and so—
it was not love, you see. We didn't
even pretend that it was love.”
She looked up, but his face wag ex
pressionless and set.
“I loved you,” she went on calmly,
“loved—do you see, but, you didn’t
ask me—then, and Terrinini did. Af
terwards you told me—afterwards,
and so I had that comfort to begin
on. Then—and then my child was a
boy. I didn’'t want—a boy. I know
nothing whatever about boys, and 1
was very young, and so—but, mean
while, T have come to know Terrinini,
and—"
She raised her eyes to his eurious
-Iy, and he winced.
“He's brave—and big—and true,”
she went on evenly, “and my boy ia
growing up. Some day he’ll be a
man. I don't want the love in his
eyes to change. I want him always
to look at me as he does now. I—"
There was the slightest rustle on
the stairs behind them, and a very
forced cough. They turned their
heads curiously at the sound.
“I beg pardon,” said Prince Paul,
gravely, one hand on the balustrade,
the other nursing a bare foot. “I
think I must have wakened by mis
take.”
The Princess caught her breath
sharply and held out her arms to him.
“Is it Fairyland?” he asked seri
ously, coming down to them. “I have
never seen things like this before.”
“It is,” said the man, “and how,
will you tell me, did you get here?”
“I don’t know. I really shouldn’t
have come, I suppose, I'm so little,
and little people don’t belong to
stories, but—l wanted to be near
you,” he finished sweetly in her ear.
She clasped her white arms around
him, and let her head fall down on
the soft, silvery folds of her gown.
“Boy——bo?,” she murmured un
steadily. :
It was a confession of love and a
prayer in one.
The man reached over and caught
the child’s hand. “And now that
you've eome—what?” said he euri
ously.
Paul sat thoughtfully pondering
the question.
. “It is only for a vigit, I guess,” he
sighed: “There is no place, you
know, for—for just children. They
dor’t count in things at all—they
don’{—" \
The man pressed the hand he held
tenderly. “They just do,” he insist
ed. “Fairyland is Childland. Don't
you know? [Fairyland is eonly fer
yo“'—" ‘
~ “And mother,” said Paul. “Por
princesses, too, Your picture is in
my book,” he confided to her in a
whisper. “I recognized you. That's
how I knew you are a princess, and
Mary says it’s true. Princess Terri
nin-i.” i
Then he turned politely to the man
and added:
“I expeet you didn’t want your pie-~
ture im? Or maybe you aren’t a
prinee?”
“No,” said the man. “I am net a
prinee; I'm afraid I’'m not much good,
you know. I'm—l’'m there, though.
Perhaps you didn’t recognize me,
I'm the Wicked One.”
“Why, no!” cried the boy, wide
eyed. “Are you the one who kept
the princess in the tower and made
her old and unhappy and—?” ;
“No,” said the man gently. “I
couldn’t. The little prince won her
away from me; got into her heart and
held it against me, and then—and
then even captured mine!”
Paul wrinkled his: forehead,
puzzled.
“I don’t quite remember that
story,” said he.
He lay back comfortably in the
Princess’ arms and closed his eyes
to shut out the glittering lights. Over
his slim white form the man stretched
out his hand and caught the Prin
cess’.
“Good-bye,” he whispered. “I'm
off again. You are happy, I see, hap
pier than I eould ever make you, I—
I'm glad.”
Then she smiled at him. Tears for
him were in her eyes.
But Prince Paul sat up, as he had
turned to go, and Held out his hand
to the Wicked One, who arose from
his stair seat.
“I'm sorry you are the Bad Man,”
he said. “I—l rather like you, I—l
suppose, though, you have to be.
They wrote you that way., And I'm
sorry I couldn’'t rem-remember the
—the story. I'll look—it up—to
morrow,” then he turned and smiled
up into the Princess’ soft blue eyes.
“Would you put me—in bed?” he
asked timidly, “and kiss me good
night again—if the others could get
on without you, I mean?”
“They must,” whispered the Prin
cess happily. “They must, for lam
never coming back to them. I am
going to stay always—with you.”
He blinked his eyes sleepily and
pressed his warm little lips tenderly
against hers.
“To-morrow—and to-morrow-—and
to-morrow?” he asked doubtfully.
“For always,” she promised.
He closed his eyes. sighing, and
smiled . . . and so, in her arms,
she carried him back to the blossomy
bed.—Fred Jackson, in Black and
White.
In the sandy deserts of Arakia
whirling winds sometimes excavate
pits 200 feet in depth and exterding
down to the harder stratum on which
the great bed rests.
- “Asleep at His Telegraph Key.”
e
The-Explanation of Many Serious Wreeks---A Danger Which the
Most improved Signalling Systems Have Not Altogether Elim
inated---Difficuity Experienced by Railroad Officers in -
Preventing Subordinates From Becoming Careless =
---The Man Who “Takes Chances” a Menace ;
: : to. the Traveling Public, e ;
There is an ancient saying that no
varticular harm is to he apprehen'dedl
from a knave, as he can be guarded
against, but that heaven is the only'
protection from a fool, because no
one can tell what he may do next.
This adage, attributed by them to the
official in charge of transportation on
the canals of Egypt, has been adopt
ed by the general managers of rail
roads in this country, as their own
particular property. It has unques-l
tionably been heavily overworked in
times past as applied to the ‘“man un
derneath,” in accounting to the pub
lic for wrecks which were really due’
to lack of judgment and foresight on
the part of the operating officials and
their superiors, the board of diree
tors. There have been many instances
in the history of American railroad
ing, however, where ‘‘asleep at his
post,” or ‘‘forgot his orders,” was the
true explanations for bad accidents,
with either enginemen, signalmen or
train dispatchers as the offenders.
From the latest accounts of the ter
rible wreck at Adobe, Col., last week,
that disaster was clearly caused by a
lapse of this kind on the part of one
of the Denver and Rio Grande agents.
In the face of negligence of the
gort that killed upward of forty peo
ple in Colorado, the railroads are al
most helpless. There is little that
can be done to guard against such in
difference to duty as that shown by a
man who will, no matter how great
his fatigue, fall asleep knowing that
hundreds of lives are dependent upon
his vigilance. The railroads use the
utmost care in hiring men, and do
everything to make sure that they
are performing their duty conscien
tiously. Once in a while, however, a
fool will get by the boards of examin
ers by whom all railroad employes in
responsible positions are now hired,
and, when he does, only too often it
takes a wreck to show him up.
A Flagman Who “‘Lost His Head.”
Twenty vears ago, one of the large
railroads of the East was poor. There
never has been a time when it hasn’t
been poor, but at this particular pe
riod the treasury had but recently
been looted for the third time in ten
years. The salaries of some of the
officers were in arrears, and wrecks
were unpopular, not so much from
the danger to human life as the cost
of rebuilding the roadbed and repair
ing the equipment. -On a certain di
vision of this railroad there was a
young civil engineer who had been
but a few years out of college. .By
midnight raids on the ‘‘equipment
piles” of the neighboring divisions he
had succeeded iff building up the sec
tion of the line over which he was
‘“road master,” until it became the
envy of the other division roadmas
ters, and attracted the notice of ‘‘the
old man” himself. As Lowell said
of two of Emerson’s assoclates:
“They might strip every tree and 'E
would never catch ’em,
His Hesperides have no rude dra
gon to watch ’em;
When they send him a dishful, and
ask him to try ’em;
He never suspects how the sly
rogues came by ’em;
He wonders why 't is there are none
such his trees on
And thinks ’em the best he has
tasted this season.”
Thanks to a sly old Irish foreman
with a pretty knack at raiding, the
voung roadmaster was laying a foun
dation for a record breaking future,
when he had a wreck and a bad one,
He was laying new track on a section
of his division shut off from the rest
of the line by a heavy curve. One of
the section hands was sent back with
torpedoes and a red flag to warn
trains to ‘“‘come on slow.” He was
particularly warned to look out for
an express which was due about half
an hour after he went out. The
track gang had just lifted an old rail
preparatory to letting in a new one
when this train rounded the curve at
full speed and went into the diteh.
Disregarding everything else, the
young engineer, knowing that his
reputation was at stake, ran back to
the spot where he had posted the
flagman, taking the foreman and a
laborer with him as witnesses, They
found the man as pale as death sit
ting by the side of the track, his flagl
beside him. He was trembling like al
leaf, and the only explanation hei
could give for his failure to signal
the engineer was that the onrushingl
train frightened him so that he was
unable to move hand or foot. Im-;
probable as this seems, subsequent'
investigation proved that the same
man was discharged from another |
road for having failed to flag a train
that he had been sent out to stop.
The swift approach of a train appar- |
ently affected him in much the game
way that standing on the edge of a
precipice does some pergons. |
A Strange Case of ‘:Nerves." l
The tendency toward sudden‘
“panic” on the part of men of this
class who have once been involved in
a wreck, constitutes a real danger in
raflroad life, and explains why it is
often considered necessary by the '
master mechanics and superintend
ents to discharge the engineers and |
signalmen connected with an acci-f
dent, even though they may not have !
been in any way responsible for it, |
An engineer who has once ‘““gone into |
tie ditch with his machine’” is never
the sameé man afterward, so far as:
his nerves are concerned, that he was
before he had the horrible exper- |
ience, and in a calling where self
possession is the first requisite, no
amount of sympathy can blind the
officers of the road to the duty they
owe themselves and the public, There
‘Was a case on a Western road several
years ago that well illustrates this
point. An epgineer with a long and
excellent record for steadiness and
loyalty to the company, plunged with |
his engine and two mail cars into an
open culvert that had been washed
out by a series of heavy floods. The
accident. happened at night and the
engineer was not in the remotest de
gree to blame for it. He had a par
ticularly strong hold on the affections ‘
of his employers, owing to the fact
that he was one of the only men who
refused: to go out during the great
strike of 73, and made his regular
run despite the danger to himself in
volved in refusing to obey the order
of the union. After the accident he
Was put back on Ris old trip with a
new engine, and, so far as any one
could see, was just the same quiet,
icapahte_;\“runner” he had always
been..
) One night he was rounding a long
'curve with high bluffs on one side of
the tracks and a steep precipice on
the other, he suddenly shut off steam,
whistled for brakes, for it was be
fore the day of ““air,” and yelled to
his fireman to jump. When an en
gineer gives that warning, his com
panion in the cab does not usually
stand on the order of his going, but
Jumps first and looks afterwards.
That’s what the fireman in this case
did, and when he came to, he found
himself with a broken arm and cut
head, at the foot of the hillside down
which he had roiled. He picked him
self up and scrambled as best he
could to the track, looking for the
rest of the wreck, Looming up in
the monlight on the track ahead,
he sawrthe dark shadow of the train
with lanterns glinting about it. The
conduetor - was holding an earnest
conversation with the engineer as
he reached the locomotive, which, to
the astonishment of the fireman, was
with the rest of the train entirely un
injured.
- “I swear by all that’s holy, Jim,”
the engineer declared to the conduc
tor, %w ‘the headlight of another
engine coming toward us on our
track.” b
The conductor was scornful and
the fireman mad, and neither of
them, of course, believed the story.
The conductor climbed aboard the
cab, and the train was run back to
pick up the brakeman who was out
with a flag. As they rounded the
curve on resuming the trip, the en
gineer suddenly shut off steam and
again called his fireman to look.
There on the track in front of them
was the light of a headlight so bright
as to be almost blinding. The fire
mman saw, however, what had not
struck the engineer when he first
perceived it, that the light was the
reflection of their own lamp. A pool
of water had ecollected in a hollow
in-the bluffs, and was close eflough
to the track to make a powerful re
flector. The engineer in this case
was not discharged, but at his own
request served out his time on a
switch engine.
The Man Who Takes Chances.
In the two instances sited above,
the men themselves might be said to
be only indirectly responsible for the
trouble they caused.” There is anoth
er idiosynerasy, however, which,
while it is undoubtedly due to a
state of mind, precludes the possi
bility of any feeling of sympathy for
the person who ig subject to it. The
man who “takes chances” is justly
the bane of railroad life, and is the
one element next to spring freshets,
most dreaded by the operating offi
cers. Here i 8 an example of the kind
of thing stich a man will do. A di
vizion engineer was one day making
an inspection of track from the cab
of a passenger locomotive which he
bad boarded for the purpose. The
engine driver called him over to his
seat to look at some object at the
side of the road as the division en
gineer supposed. Instead, he point
€d to a large boulder, the size of an
2gg crate, that had rolled. down the
hillside and lay directly between the
rails in front of them. There was
plenty of time to stop, and the divi
slon engineer expected the driver to |
shut off steam. Instead, he opened |
the throttle wide and yelled: i
“See me bunt it on.” ,
The engine hit the rock with a
mighty thud, rolled a trifle, and then
settled down on the rails again, the
boulder having gone over to one side. l
The division ehgineer, as soon as he
could get possession of his voice, l
made the driver stop his engine.
“You fool!” he called back as he |
climbed down from the cab, ““I would
not ride another mile on the same en- |
gine with you for a thousand dol
lars.” ¢
The fireman, meaning to throw oil
on th@troubled waters, said: \
“Why, that's nothing, Mr, —,
Gus never stops for a little thing like ;
that, and he's got the best record
for time of any runner on the road.” !
*he divigion engineer left the road |
soon after this incident, so he never .
LT AR g T e
knew ‘what '--Beca;xfiz%t the engine dri
ver., Before he went, however, he
sent a full report of the occurrenee
to headquarters, and the man was
in all probability discharged.
Accordidg to thé latest reports cos
the Adobe disaster, the accident was
caused by the negligence of a tele«
graph operator and signalman who
fell asleep and was therefore not
aware that the fated train had passed
his station. This is one of the com
monest and most difficult dangers to
deal with, confronting railroad offl
cers. The strain of keeping awake
during the hours when a person is
normally in bed, in a little way sla
tion where only three or four trains
pass in the course of the night, is
greater than any person can realize
who has not experienced it.
Every sort of device has been re
sorted to by the railroad companies
to insure that the men along the line
are awake and doing their duty. Spe
cial calls are sent over the wires to
the different agents at frequent in
tervals, they are obliged to report
to the train dispatcher every hour or
two, and the conductors of passing
trains are called upon to notify head
quarters of any evidences of careless
ness on the part of the operators
they may notice as they go up and
down the road. In spite of these
precautions, every little while opera
tors go to sleep, as the Adobe acci
dent shows. The following incident
illustrates the fact that men who
have attained to high positions in
railroad life were themselves some
times guilty of subterfuges as under
lings which they were later anxious
to detect and punish in their subor
dinates.
A man who ended his career as
presideut of the Lake Shore Road be
gan life as a station agent, and is
credited by his associates with in
venting what was perhaps the first
automatic signal ever put into prac
tical operation. The station of which
he was ir charge lay far out on the
prairies in Illinois, and with the ex
ception of two expresses and a
through freight, there was no night
traffic. The express trains passed
the station early in the evening, and
after that there was a long stretch
of lonely waiting until the freight
went by about 3 o’clock in the morn
ing. The agent tried improving his
mind with study, and then took to
modeling in clay.
Neither of these schemes worked,
g 0 he was finally forced to put aside
the promise he had made his moth
er ‘“never to gamble,” and joined
the “round robin” poker game which
is as old as the institution of night
telegraphy. Each man deals himself
a 2 poker hand, and then, as his turn
comes round, calls his play. The
stakes are always small, and are for
warded te the winner by the hand of
a friendly conductor or brakeman.
The poker game became tiresome af
ter a time, and the agent compro
miged: still further with his consci
ence. His sole duty after the freight
went by was to set the red light in
the middle of the track, warning any
following train that the freight had
passed, and then give his code signal
to the operator at the next station to
warn him that the freight was on the
way. The agent decided after think
ing the matter over that so long as
the signal was set, and the next agent
notified, it made no difference by
what means the end was attained.
He therefore spent the whole next
few evenings perfecting a device that
would allow him to go to sleep with
out danger of being detected. The
signal was a crude one, but it an
swered its purpose in an age when
railroading was haphazard at the
best. In after years this man was
wont to say that one of the first
things he did after he became a divi
‘sion superintendent, was to install a
ftelegraph outfit in his bedroom so
‘that he could cut in on the main line
of his division during the night and
discover whether he was talking to
a man or a machine.—~New York
Evening Post,
GCHIING.S
l IWORTH KNOWING)
boT IR T
There are two persons married in
New York City each eleven minutoes
in the day.
Few persons realize the volume of
the real estate transactions in New
York City, The records of the five
boroughs show that there is an aver
age of thirty deeds and twenty-séven
mortgages filed for record every busi
ness hour of the year,
Just 3,963,660 cords of wood were
used in the United States in the man
ufacture of paper pulp last year, twice
ias much as was used in 1898,
l Cape Nome i 8 only two degrees
)below the Arctie circle, and yet prob
‘abilities are that within a year or two
it will become the site o 1 a town with
all the modern improvements. The
rush in the direction of the new gold
fields is almost unprecedented, and
it the expectations now entertained
are realized, it will becorme the
largest gold camp in the world.
The royal palaces of Bangkok form
a city in themselves. They consist of
several hundred individual palaces,
surrounded by magnificent gardens
and pagodas.
Persons who make it a buginess to
contribute to the beautifying of wom
en gay that there are more of them
with double chins in New York City
than\in any other city in the world.
The “extra chin comes after forty
years, and there are about 112,000 of
them in the city that the owners are
trying to get rid of,
SRS hel, SR A 3
' L
11. Good Roads. 2
§ : ?:‘““ At e 55 v v
Toadside Trees, ar
fn answer to inquiries from the
United States, Consul-General Robert
P. Skinner, of Marseilles, furnishes.
the following information relative te
the effect of wayside trees on French
roads:
“It is proposed to plant trees
along the roadsides of New York
State in order to keep the moisture
in the road and prevent ravelling,
and the question has been raised’
whether or not the roots of such
trees may spread out underneath the
road surface and eventually create
great damage in a severe climate
where there are extremes of heat and
cold. While French roads are not
always boidered with shade trees,
they are so very frequently, and my
information is that the trees are
planted not only for furnishing shade,
but in order @ protect the roads
themselves against the effects of ex
cessive heat and drouth. It is be
lieved that the long, dry summer sea
son is much more inimical to roads
than severe cold. The chief officer in
charge of the public roads in Mar
seilles is of the opinion that, on the
whole, New York roads would be
benefited if bordered with trees, sug
gesting, however, that only such
should be planted as have vertically
descending roots.
“F. Birot, civil engineer, and for
mer conductor of the bureau of
bridges and highways, expresses him
self as follows on the subject:
“‘ln countries where the climate
is damp roadside tress are prejudicial
to the maintenance of the highways,
as they prevent the circulation of the
air and the drying of the soil; in most
of the southern French regions such
plantations are, on the other hand,
very useful in dry weather, as they
maintain the roadbed in a state of
freshness favorable to its conserva
tion. In general, trees should be
selected with high spreading
branches, such as the poplar, the elm,
the ash, and they should be planted
generally upon the outer edge of the
roadbox and at distances of ten
metres (32.80 feet). Wach tree
should be placed in a hole one metre
(3.28 feet) deep and one and one
half metres (4.92 feet) square, and
should be trimmed to a height of
two and one-half metres (8.20 feet)
above the surface. .
“ ‘The earth about newly planted
trees should be loosened in March
and November-—in March only after
the third year—and thereafter until
their permanent growth appears as
sured; small trenches should be di
rected toward the foot of the tree,
in order to secure the benefit of rains.
Finally, the tree itself should be
trimmed annually during the first ten
years.,' "—Consular Report, Sl
k':lgt::r <
o e ET— i ;
" Problem World-Wide.,
Mesting new conditions success
fully is essential to the progress of
civilization. One hundred and twen
ty-five years ago Tresauget, of
‘ Franoce, and Macadam, of Scotland,
met the difficulty which arose from
impassable roads by developing the
modern macadamized highway. They
argued that iron tires crushing down
heavily the rock spread over the
roads would ultimately result in giv
ing a smooth, hard surfaece that would
shed the water and remain the same
in winter and summer. Their reas
oning was correct, and the wonderful
‘mads of France and Scotland were
the result.
| To-day, however, as civilization is
progressing, instead of the iron-tired
wheels improving the roads, the rub
ber-tired automobiles destroy care
fully macadamized roads. The roads
in France in the last few years have
deteriorated fully forty per cent. un
der the disintegration caused by the
suction from the rubber tires of the
automobile. As the Times-Dispatch
has already stated, a congress of road
builders is now being held in Parig,
at which the United States is repre
sented, to discuss a way of meeting
this difficulty. This congress shows
how much interest the whole world
is taking in good roads, which, like
the automobile, have come to stay
wherever they have come at all.
Virginia 18 making some progress
toward better roads, but not enough,
The increase of comfort and value
which always follows good roads
ought to urge the State to redoubled
efforts to secure improved highways
everywhere, — Richmond Times-Dig
patch.
Work in Brazil, i
Brazil is bestirring nersgelf over
good road conscruction., All over the
Republic there are public enterprises
for the construction of improved
roads or the improvement of old
roads as a neceseary adjunct to agri
cultural and other development of
the country, It may he something of
a surprise to the average reader to
know that in the earlier days Brazil
posgessed some of the finest roadways
in the world, the old Government
highways before the day of railways
comparing favorably with the best
government highways of Europe of
the same period. It is a generally
well recognized fact, in all pro
gressive countries, that good high
ways are one of the most important
features of the general transporta
tion problem, and transportation .of
farm products is the key to farm
prosperity.
Good road agitation and aecom
plishment in this country cannot
progress any too rapidly, either by
Pederal, State or local means, if
Amerfcan farms are to eontinue
supreme, B
