218 



A short time ago I investigated the movement of merchandise and 

 crops from point of production to point where they first reached a rail or 

 river shipping station; in other words, the distance the articles were trans- 

 ported over the old roads of the country. This worked out an average 

 of nine miles, at a cost of 26 cents a ton a mile. Had these roads been in 

 proper condition, the cost would have certainly not been more than 

 10 cents a ton a mile. This condition is due to the fact that practically 

 nine-tenths of all the roads in the country are in exactly the same con- 

 dition as when finished by the first settlers. This handicap on general 

 prosperity represents not merely the added cost of moving food and various 

 kinds of product, but this high toll on the initial movement is so great, 

 that millions of tons of product rot back to nature and play no part in creat- 

 ing that exchange between various types of producers, which is the founda- 

 tion of a country's prosperity and the advancing condition of its civilization. 



A few years ago it was shown that more than six hundred million tons 

 moving on the railroads had a value at point of production less than one 

 dollar a ton. This figure illustrates what a tremendous factor this excess 

 cost of movement over roads to initial point of shipment is in the general 

 run of affairs; for this excess is greater than the average value of this 

 immense body of product. 



I feel that one result of this convention will be a closer attention to the 

 question of good roads and a proper utilization of such roads as now exist 

 by a system of gathering product in small quantities from farmers of a 

 common neighborhood, concentrating into salable lots many small bodies 

 of product which now, because of their smallness, will not pay cost of pack- 

 ing, transportation and distribution in the cities. 



I am naturally an optimist, and the longer I live the stronger grows 

 that optimism. Only recently a friend called to see me, a dear old Irish- 

 man who has never outgrown his habits and forms of speech acquired on 

 the other side of the Atlantic. ''Well, Mr. Cattell," he exclaimed as he 

 entered my office, 'Tm going out to the Sandwich Islands," to which I 

 replied, ''Man alive, you cannot stand it. I have been out there myself 

 and it is 185 degrees in the shade." Back came his answer, "By the 

 saints, I needn't stay in the shade all the time!" 



We want more of this self-confidence, this belief that even if we do 

 not understand a situation our native ability will show us some way to 

 change our position for the better. Then, too, we want a little of the spirit, 

 it seems to me, of another acquaintance, living here in Philadelphia, 

 whose ill-fortune it was to fall from the roof of a very high building; and 

 by the testimony of those occupying offices in the building, this man, as 

 he passed each floor in his perilous descent, exclaimed, "Don't worry, 

 I'm all right up to the present time." He evidently waited for the final 

 bump and tried to enjoy himself during the trip before that bump arrived. 



I suggest, therefore, that this convention, when it dissolves, and its 

 units return to their home environment, carry back, each to his special 



