210 ANNUAL. REPORT OF THE Oft. Doc. 



WTiat of the rebellion? History and fact will bear well on the 

 point. 



Famine, floods and tornadoes are caressed by the great arm of 

 public road system, and their agonies, distresses and despair are 

 alike alleviated, rocked to sleep by the close, sympathetic touch 

 of the more favored brother who is not encumbered by transporta- 

 tion facilities in supplying the wants at once through these dis- 

 tance-annihilating channels of good roads. 



Not only this, but it is a tax raiser, as it enables you to reach the 

 markets when goods and grain are wanted, and not after the market 

 has been closed. It is a bond lifter, as it is time saved in traveling 

 (time is money, if properly employed), that can be utilized to a more 

 advantageous employment on the farm or in the shop. 



Who would not go with the farmer in his dreams, as he passes 

 down the public highway, level as the floor, viewing the verdant 

 fields and inhaling the aromatic sweets of a thousand flowers? 

 Health, with its ruddy glow, pervades his face, as the light of day 

 dispels the darkness of night. Behold his two horses which skip as 

 lambs, behind that farmer's former six-horse load on bad roads, 

 now chaffing the bit in high spirits under the improved system. 



PUBLIC ROADS AND HOW TO IMPROVE THEM. 



To take out the hindering causes to successful, permanent road 

 building, if we succeed on these points, we will have reached the 

 goal of expectancy. 



Do vou see that man traveling vender? Let us drive slow as we 

 pass. Yes; I notice the feline curvature of his vertebrae; his head 

 hugged between his shoulders like an owl — his horse has stopped — 

 the driver moves slowly out over the front wheel, climbs down the 

 spokes like a chicken thief on a ladder — he reaches the ground — then, 

 with one finger wipes the dew-drop from the end of his nose — he 

 walks back toward the rear end of the wagon, gets out a three-foot 

 two-inch stick, with a six-foot four-inch lash, moves front and as- 

 sumes the position of a horse trainer. With a few cuts of the whip 

 the horse again starts — the man now walks aloug the side of the 

 wagon with his left hand on the right side of the wagon bed. I 

 notice his hair of a dark dusty color, hanging in strings or tassels 

 about his neck and ears — that old, greasy hat, with a diuge in front 

 and a ragged hole at the side, which looks like the ragged edge or 

 armor plate of an American vessel blown up by a Spanish torpedo, 

 affords the head gear. As he walks along, I notice his face — 

 brown, dirty and greasy, and strubbly whiskers protruding there- 

 from. He has a brown pair of overalls on, one leg with large ragged 

 hole at knee, the bottom in frills and six inches from his unbuckled 

 shoe top, while the other seems to be fairly good, reminds me that 



