"But after all this, there still remains a pressing need for better country roads. As long as mud placed an embargo upon city traffic, the farmer could bear his mud-made isolation with less complaint, but with the improvement of city streets and with the establishment of parks and boulevards, the farmer's just demands for better roads find increasing expression."
The late brilliant congressman, Hon. Thomas H. Tongue of Oregon, left on record a few paragraphs on the sociological effect of good roads that ought to be preserved:
"Good roads do not concern our pockets only. They may become the instrumentalities for improved health, increased happiness and pleasure, for refining tastes, strengthening, broadening, and elevating the character. The toiler in the great city must have rest and recreation. Old and young, and especially the young, with character unformed, must and will sweeten the daily labor with some pleasure. It is not the hours of industry, but the hours devoted to pleasure, that furnish the devil his opportunity. It is not while we are at work but while we are at play that temptations steal over the senses, put conscience to sleep, despoil manhood, and destroy character. Healthful and innocent recreations and pleasure are national needs and national blessings. They are among the most important instrumentalities of moral reform. They are as essential to purity of mind and soul as to healthfulness of body. Out beyond the confines of the city, with its dust and dirt and filth, morally and physically, these are to be found, and good roads help to find them. What peace and inspiration may come from flowers and music, brooks and waterfalls! How the mountains pointing heavenward, yesterday battling with storms, today bathed with sunshine, bid you stand firm, walk erect, look upward, cherish hope, and for light and guidance to call upon the Creator of all light and of all wisdom! How such scenes as these kindle the imagination of the poet, quicken and enlarge the conception of the artist, fire the soul of the orator, purify and elevate us all! But if love of action rather than contemplation and reflection tempts you, how the blood thrills and the spirits rise as one springs lightly into the saddle, caresses the slender neck of an equine beauty, grasps firmly the reins, bids farewell to the impurities of the city, and dashes into the hills and the valleys and the mountains to commune with nature and nature's God. Or what joy more exquisite than with pleasant companionship to dash along the smooth highway, drawn by a noble American trotter? What poor city scenes can so inspire poetic feeling, can so increase the love of the beautiful, can so elevate and broaden and strengthen the character, and so inspire us with reverence for the great Father of us all? But for the full enjoyment of such pleasures good roads are indispensable.
"Another blessing to come with good roads will be the stimulus and encouragements to rural life, farm life. The present tendency of population to rush into the great cities makes neither for the health nor the character, the intelligence nor the morals of the nation. It has been said that no living man can trace his ancestry on both sides to four generations of city residents. The brain and the brawn and the morals of the city are constantly replenished from the country. The best home life is upon the farm, and the most sacred thing in America is the American home. It lies at the foundation of our institutions, of our health, of our character, our prosperity, our happiness, here and hereafter. The snares and pitfalls set for our feet are not near the home. The pathways upon which stones are hardest and thorns sharpest are not those that lead to the sacred spot hallowed by a father's love and a mother's prayers. The bravest and best of men, the purest and holiest women, are those who best love, cherish, and protect the home. God guard well the American home, and this done, come all the powers of darkness and they shall not prevail against us. Fatherhood and motherhood are nowhere more sacred, more holy, or better beloved than upon the farm. The ties of brotherhood and sisterhood are nowhere more sweet or tender. The fair flower of patriotism there reaches its greatest perfection. Every battlefield that marks the world's progress, the victory of liberty over tyranny or right over wrong, has been deluged with the blood of farmers. He evades neither the taxgatherer nor the recruiting officer. He shirks the performance of no public duty. In the hour of its greatest needs our country never called for help upon its stalwart yeomen when the cry was unheeded. The sons and daughters of American farmers are filling the seminaries and colleges and universities of the land. From the American farm home have gone in the past, as they are going now, leaders in literature, the arts and sciences, presidents of great universities, the heads of great industrial enterprises, governors of states, and members of Congress. They have filled the benches of the supreme court, the chairs of the cabinet, and the greatest executive office in the civilized world. Our greatest jurist, our greatest soldier, our greatest orators, Webster and Clay, our three greatest presidents, Washington, Lincoln, and McKinley, were the product of rural homes. The great presidents which Virginia has given to the nation, whose monuments are all around us, whose remains rest in your midst, whose fame is immortal, drew life and inspiration from rural homes. The typical American today is the American farmer. The city life, with its bustle and stir, its hurry and rush, its feverish anxiety for wealth, position, and rank in society, its fretting over ceremonies and precedents, is breaking down the health and intellect and the morals of its inhabitants. These must be replenished from the rural home. Whatever shall tend to create a love for country life, to decrease the rush for the city, instil a desire to dwell in the society of nature, will make for the health, the happiness, the refinement, the moral and intellectual improvement of the people. Nothing will contribute more to this than the improvement of our common roads, to facilitate the means of communication between one section of the country and the other, and between all and the city."
Turning now from the high plane of the social and moral effect of good roads, let us look at the financial side of the question.
Good roads pay well. In urging good roads in Virginia, an official of the Southern Railway said that if good roads improved the value of lands only one dollar per acre, the gain to the state by the improvement of all the roads would be twenty-five million dollars. Yet this is an inconceivably low estimate; lands upon improved roads advance in value from four to twenty dollars per acre. Virginia could therefore expect a benefit from improved highways of at least one hundred million dollars—more than enough to improve her roads many times over. Indeed this matter of the increase in value of land occasioned by good roads can hardly be overestimated. Near all of our large towns and cities the land will advance until it is worth per foot what it was formerly worth per acre. Take Mecklenburg County, North Carolina. Beginning in 1880 to macadamize three or four miles of road a year with an annual fund of $10,000, the county now has over a hundred miles of splendid roads; the county seat has increased in population from 5,000 to 30,000. "I know of a thirty-acre farm," said President Barringer of the University of Virginia, a native of that county, "that cost ten dollars an acre, and forty-six dollars an acre has been refused for it, and yet not a dollar has been put on it, not even to fertilize it. Some of the farms five and six miles from town have quadrupled in value." In Alabama the same thing has been found true. "The result of building these roads," said Mayor Drennen of Birmingham, "is that the property adjoining them has more than doubled in value." That wise financier, D. F. Francis, President of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, when suggesting that Missouri would do well to bond herself for one hundred million to build good roads, said: "The average increase in the value of the lands in Missouri would be at least five dollars per acre." Taking President Francis at his word, the difference between the value of Missouri before and after the era of good roads would buy up the four hundred and eighty-four state banks in Missouri eleven times over. What President Francis estimates Missouri would be worth with good roads over and above what her farms are now worth would buy all the goods that the city of St. Louis produces in a year. In other words, the estimated gain to Missouri would be more than two hundred and twenty million dollars.
Passing the increased value of lands, look at the equally vital question of increased values of crops. Take first the crops that would be raised on lands not cultivated today but which would be cultivated in a day of good roads. Look at Virginia, where only one-third of the land is being cultivated; the value of crops which it is certain would ultimately be raised on land that is now unproductive would amount to at least sixty million dollars. The general passenger agent of the Oregon Railway and Navigation Company said recently that his lines were crying out for wheat to ship to China; "we have about reached the limit of our facilities; twelve or fifteen miles is the only distance farmers can afford to haul their wheat to us. Make it possible for them to haul it double that distance and you will double the business of our railway." And the business of local nature done by a railroad is a good criterion of the prosperity of the country in which it operates.
Crops now raised on lands within reach of railways would of course be enhanced in value by good roads; more loads could be taken at less cost; weather interferences would not enter into the question. But of more moment perhaps than anything else, a vast amount of land thus placed within quick reach of our towns and cities would be given over to gardening for city markets, a line of agriculture immensely profitable, as city people well know. "The citizens of Birmingham," said the mayor of that city, "enjoy the benefits of fresh products raised on the farms along these [improved] roads. The dairymen, the truck farmers, and others ... are put in touch with our markets daily, thereby receiving the benefits of any advance in farm products."
Poor roads are like the interest on a debt, and they are working against one all the time. It is noticeable that when good roads are built, farmers, who are always conservative, adjust themselves more readily to conditions. They are in touch with the world and they feel more keenly its pulse, much to their advantage. Too many farmers, damned by bad roads, are guilty of the faults of which Birmingham's mayor accused Alabama planters: "The farmers in this section," he said, "are selling cotton today for less than seven cents per pound, while they could have sold Irish potatoes within the past few months at two dollars per bushel." Farmers over the entire country are held to be slow in taking advantage of their whole opportunities; bad roads take the life out of them and out of their horses; they think somewhat as they ride—desperately slow; and they will not think faster until they ride faster. It is said that a man riding on a heavy southern road saw a hat in the mud; stopping to pick it up he was surprised to find a head of hair beneath it: then a voice came out of the ground: "Hold on, boss, don't take my hat; I've got a powerful fine mule down here somewhere if I can ever get him out." You can write and speak to farmers until doomsday about taking quick advantage of the exigencies of the markets that are dependent on them, but if they have to hunt for their horses in a hog-wallow road all your talk will be in vain.