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oes every kind of service

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IRE selection should be governed by con|| 3: = } ditions of car use.

ozs “ON Ordinarily, this is limited to two types—fabric o --- () _- and cord. !. But the Lee Line consists of four types of tires—

Lee Fabric, Lee Cord, Lee Fabric Punctureproof, Lee Cord Puncture-proof.

Here is the limit of pneumatic tire selection— the only complete /ime of pneumatics.

Lee standard types are, admittedly, the quality and service equals of the best tires built.

Puncture-proofing is an added feature, exclusive with Lee Tires. They are the only pneumatic tires guaranteed against puncture.

As will be seen in the accompanying picture, three extra layers of fabric on which steel discs are embedded in pure rubber, are built into each Lee puncture-proof tire.

This feature is indispensable for business or commercial service—to physicians, salesmen, contractors—to every passenger car, delivery car or truck where continuous, economical operation means increased earnings.

Consulting a Lee Dealer is just like having tires
Auilt to order for your particular service.

Look for the “Lee’’ name in your
Telephone Directory

LEE TIRE & RUBBER co

* Executive Offices - 245 West 55th Street
NEW YORK, CITY

rac"roos constioriocron PA.

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--

do HY, that's my third increase in a year! It just shows what special training will do for a man. When I left school to go to work I couldn't do anything in particular. All I could hope for was just a job—and that's what I got, at $60 a month for routine, unskilled work. I stayed at it for three years, with one small increase each year.

“Then one day I woke up. I found I wasn't getting ahead simply because I couldn't do any one thing well. I decided right then to put in an hour after supper each night preparing myself for more important work. So I wrote to Scranton and arranged for a course that would give me special training for our business.

“Why, in a few months I had a whole new vision of my work and its possibilities. You see, I was just beginning to really understand it. I made some suggestions to the manager and he was immensely pleased. Said he had noticed how much better I was doing lately and wished he had more like me.

“Just after that an opening came and he gave me my chance—at an increase of $25 a month. Then I really began to grow. Six months later I was put in charge of my department and my salary went up again. Since then I’ve had two increases of $50 a month and now I've got another $50 raise!”

For 29 years the International Correspondence Schools have been helping men and women everywhere to win promotion, to earn more money, to have happy, prosperous homes, to know the joy of getting ahead in business and in life.

More than two million have taken the up road with I. C. S. help. More than 130,000 are now turning their spare time to profit. Hundreds are starting every day. Isn't it about time for you to find out what the I. C. S. can do for you?

Here is all we ask—the chance to prove it—without obligation on your part or a penny of cost. That's fair, isn't it? Then mark and mail this coupon.

---------------- - - - -

INTERNATIONAL CORRESPONDENCE SCH00LS Box 4111, SCRANTON, PA.

me, how I can qualify for the

lain, without obligatin Exp ore which I mark X.

position, or in the subject,

Electrical, Engineert SALESMANship Electric hting and otys. advertising electric Wiring window Trimmer Telegraph Engineer show Card Writer telephone Work Sign Painter meohanical, Enginron Railroad Trainman Meehanieal Draftsman orino Maehine Shop Praetlee artooning Toolmaker Business management

Engine §§e Private Secretary civil, Gineer Bookkeepert

d Map Stenographer and Typist

Cert. Pub. Accountant

Honon
-- Traffic MANAGER

Marine Engineer Railway Accountant
Ship Draftsman Commercial Law
archite Good ENGLISH
|Centraetor and Hallder Teacher
Arehitectural Draftsman Common Sehool Babiects
Concrete Builder Mathematics

civil service
Railway Mall Clerk
automobile operating

structural Engineer PLU-Ring and heating sheet Metal Worker

textile overseeror Bapt. Auto Repairing Spanish onrxist Agriculture French tion Poultry Raising Italian Name Present -------> o street and No City Roata

| School for Young Ladies.

write 'em, Red,” he said, “tell 'em not to bust her; just gentle her. No Spanish bits or spurs. Sugar and apples and things like that; and no more than a touch of the quirt if she acts up.” It was a wrench when she went. Greater even than the old man had suspected it would be. And he had suspected all his imagination was capable of conceiving. His eyes had bothered him all the way home. He took Red to drive the buckboard. He didn't mind Red seeing. And she had cried passionately and without restraint. She even threatened to jump off the train. But the old man ić told the conductor to look out for her; and offered him fifty dollars, which the conductor refused, to see her across Chicago. And, of course, somebody from the school was to meet her at Cheltenham-on-the-Hudson, where was located the school to which she was going. It had been two years now. She had not been home. Nor had the old man been East. . . . It takes a long time for one to make up one's mind to so great an Odyssey when one has been all one's life a fixture. . . . Only her handwriting had greatly improved, and her spelling. . . . At first rebellious, she had later become reconciled. . . . She sent a group photograph of the members of a club she had joined. After speculating for three weeks, they sent it back to ask her to mark herself with a cross. And even then they refused to believe it. Her hair was up and her dresses down, and she looked like the pictures in the magazines. You i. they remembered her mostly on a Orse.

LL this passed through Red's mind as he sat there on his haunches, the girth hanging from his hand. . . . By and by he nodded. “I’ll go you,” he said. “When do we start?” Some days later there alighted at the tastefully ornate railroad station of Cheltenham-on-the-Hudson two strange figures. Large hats they wore; vivid blue suits of strange cut and stranger fit; high-heeled boots covered by pants legs stretched tight; and celluloid col. lars with made ties. For your cow man is picturesque on his native heath and in his own clothing. Transplanted, he looks nearly as incongruous as does the city man on the ranch. The baggageman greeted them cordially. “Where's the rest of the company?” he queried. Red looked puzzledly at old man Moseby. Then back at the baggageman. “Rest o' what company?” he demanded. “Ain’t you movie actors?” asked the baggageman. “No,” replied Red. “Oh,” said the baggageman. “We are lookin’,” said Red, “for the Misses Dane's Fashionable Finishing It's here, isn’t it?” “Up on the hill,” returned the baggageman. With a jerk of his head he indicated a waiting jitney. “Gus’ll take you up there for a quarter apiece.” “That’s satisfactory.” “Strangers?” queried the baggageman. “Yes. We’re from the West.” “I’m from Buffalo myself,” said the baggageman. “Where you from?” “Arizona,” said Red. The baggageman whistled. “I run away to go there once,” he said. “To fight Indians—when I was a kid. That's how come I goes to Buffalo. They found me and threw me off the train. I always figured that maybe I'd have another try some time. They tell me it's a swell country.” “It is,” said Red. “If you ever come,

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any time. Diamond Dot, near Red

Wing. Redfield Pepperday's my name.

This is Mr. Moseby. He owns the ranch. He likes company too.” “A couple o’ months!” said the baggageman. “Or longer,” said Red. “If you got a guitar or anything, bring it along. I play the harmonica myself. But it gets tiresome after a while.” He held out his hand. “Glad to have met you, Mr.-”

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T was a strange country that presented itself to the two pairs of Western eyes. From the river the hills rose sheer and heavily wooded save for shaven lawns and towering mansions. A trolley track accompanied them part way up the climb, then veered off to its own devices. Limousines darted past them with occupants closely hidden behind glass and shade. A row of small shops was soon left behind for a section of residences, closely grouped. Old man Moseby's eyes gleamed eagerly. “I wonder if she'll know us,” he said a little throatily. “She’ll know us all right,” said Red. “But will we know her? That's the reel question.” They rode in silence along asphalted streets, bordered by sidewalks, hedgelined. Lawns and houses, barns and garages in an unbroken stream. “Pile o' money tied up in this yer town,” ventured old man Moseby at length. “Sure is. Kind o' stifling, though.” Another silence. “Twenty,” said old man Moseby. “Uh-uh,” negatived Red. “Nineteen.” “Twenty,” said old man Moseby. “Twenty on the fifteenth of this comin’ June.” “Oh,” said Red. way!” Another pause. “I wonder if we look all right,” said old man Moseby. “Why not?” said Red. “That man at the station. He thought we was movie actors.” “H'm,” said Red thoughtfully. Then: “But we look just like we always do.” “That's the trouble,” said old man Moseby. He peered out the window at a fashionably groomed city dweller walking to the station for exercise. “That's the way they look here,” he said. “I noticed 'em on the train. They wear shoes an’ their pants pressed. Also, they got their manes roached straight up, not cut horseshoe an' shaved, like us. “That's easy fixed,” commented Red. “Yes,” agreed old man Moseby. “But I don’t want that she should be ashamed

“If you figure that

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chaw tobaccer right in the parlor. It mortified mother terrible. Especially when we has comp’ny.” “What's that got to do with it?” inquired Red. “Same idee,” asseverated the old man. He would have elaborated on his theme only at the moment they swung from the main road into a driveway. Two stucco columns marked its opening. And one of these bravely assured the world that the precincts that lay behind were the girls' school of which the Misses Dane were proprietresses. “Here we are,” said Red. Both men looked. In every direction there stretched lawns, close-clipped, with here and there groups of trees and carefully tended shrubbery. At the foot of a gentle slope lay an artificial lake, crossed at its narrowest point by a tiny bridge. Behind it was a belt of heavy wood and thicket, and in its exact center—

Billeted

From Los Angeles, California, the following:

Gentlemen:

Just a word of sincere commendation of the aristocrat of tobaccos—Edgeworth. I am a confirmed lover of the pipe and can safely say that before I found complete enjoyment and satisfaction, I tried nearly every known brand of tobacco. In reality there are not sufficient words of praise to convey the absolute sense of perfect pipe-bliss that Edgeworth gives.

I am going to sketch a little occurrence. The scene is laid in the village of Sauvage, Magny, France.

Battery D of the 60th C. A. C. had just returned from a two months’ stay on the firing lines—St. Mihiel and the Meuse-Argonne. Billeted in two barns half filled with straw and with the mess kitchen in the space in front of one of the barns, the men, having been deprived of every luxury and little personal comfort while at the front, were mending torn uniforms, washing soiled clothes, and in general rehabilitating themselves. During the 2% months at the front we had considered ourselves fortunate in getting even a poor grade of cigarette tobacco to fill our pipes. There were four of us accustomed to congregate in an old Frenchman's house every evening between mess and taps, to sit before an open fire to smoke and One evening L– came in with a radiant face, also with a small package, a blue-colored tin which he set on the table. And there before our eyes was a vision which caused our hearts to throb with joy. There in that outof-the-way little village was a can of honest-to-goodness Edgeworth. I need not describe the rest of the scene. Suffice it to say that we had Christmas, New Years, Fourth of July, and Decoration Day all in one that evening.

Here's pledging good fellowship in a pipeful of Edgeworth.

(Signed)
Cpl. Bttry. D. 60th C. A. C.

And here's to you, sir! May you never again have to be billeted in straw in order to value Edgeworth so highly. And here's to those other pipesmokers who value Edgeworth not at all. How can you value a pipe-tobacco you haven't filled up the little old pi with, touched a light to, and i.." . puff, puff—decided just what you think of it? Allow us to submit Edgeworth to your judgment. Send us your name and address. If you wish, send us also the name of the dealer to whom you will go for supplies, if you like Edgeworth. Off to you at once without charge will go samples of Edgeworth in both forms—Plug Slice and Ready-Rubbed. Edgeworth Plug Slice comes in flat cakes, cut into thin, moist slices. One slice rubbed between the hands fills the average pipe. We believe you'll notice how perfectly Edgeworth packs. That makes it burn evenly and freely. Edgeworth is sold in various sizes to meet the requirements of a good many different customers. Both Edgeworth Plug Slice and Edgeworth ReadyRubbed are put in pocket-size packages, in attractive tin humidors and glass jars, and in various quantities in between those sizes. For the free samples, address Larus & Brother Company, 3 South 21st Street, Richmond, Va.

To Retail Tobacco Merchants—if your jobber cannot supply you with Edgeworth, Larus & Brother Company will gladly send you prepaid by parcel post a one- or two-dozen carton of any size of Edgeworth Plug Slice or Ready-Rubbed for the same price you would pay the jobber.

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“Look,” said old man Moseby. “What's the matter?” demanded Red. “You said it was a decoration,” said the old man. Red gazed in the direction of the old man's extended forefinger. There, in an opening in the woods, was a Greek temple. Red batted his eyes. “But they don't have 'em,” he protested. Of a sudden the jitney stopped, quickly. Red turned to the driver. “Anything the matter?” he asked. “There they are,” said the driver, pointing toward the thicket beyond the lake. “There who are?” demanded Red. “The girls,” said the driver. “I thought maybe you might like to look at 'em. We do,” he added, not without enthusiasm. Red and old man Moseby followed the direction of his pointing finger. From the temple were emerging figures; figures of young girls, clad in light diaphanous veils and very little else. Following a leader, they skipped lightly over the green and ...? the little lake. Lithe, clean-limbed, bare of leg, of neck, of arm, the sun danced against smooth young flesh. . . .

HE driver sat himself back as the favored possessor of a front-row seat at a burlesque show. But not so his passengers. The lower jaw of Redfield Pepperday dropped until it settled over his celluloid collar and upon his ready-made tie. Old man Moseby gave vent to a choking gasp. In silence utter and abysmal they watched. Nude veiled figures continued to prance, waving their arms; now crouching to their knees, and again leaping to their feet to continue gyrations that to their beholders held less of meaning than nothing at all. It was Redfield Pepperday who broke the silence. “Who — who — who are they?” he demanded weakly. “The girls,” replied the driver. “Ain’t this an insane asylum?” queried the helpless Redfield. “Certainly not,” returned the driver. “I thought it was; and that the inmates had escaped in the lace curtains! . . . You're sure it ain’t?” “Certainly I am,” returned the driver. “Didn't you see the sign? And, besides, they do it every day. Us fellers comes up often.” “But who are they?” persisted the paralyzed Pepperday. “They're the girls,” repeated the driver impatiently. “The stoodents.” “You mean that they're the girls that goes to this school?” “Absotively.” “But what are they doin’?” plaintive, almost helpless. “Learnin’ to dance,” replied the driver. “Anesthetic dancin', they call it, or some’n’, like that. They, do it every mornin’ in the summer. That is, every mornin’ when it don’t rain,” he added meticulously. Red gulped weakly. “And the teach“They

ers let 'em?” he persisted. “Let 'em!” said the driver. make 'em. It’s a part o' their lessons.” “But they don't do it willingly,” persisted Red. “Why, you wouldn’t get me out like that for a million dollars! They put up a holler, don’t they?” ...The driver grinned. “Do they look it?" he asked. Red turned again to the prancing figures now engaged in that classic gyration known as driving the wild horses. He blinked twice. Then, like a flash of light, it came to him. He gulped. “Great snakes and stingin' lizards!” he muttered. He turned to old man Moseby, still mazed and mystified. “Do you get it?” he demanded. “Our June! Our little-June!” The old man batted helpless eyes. “Maybe she's one of 'em!” Red elucidated. “Maybe she herself is one o' that bunch out there this very minute! Think of it! Our June! Hoppin' around like a hen with its head cut off

It was

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a-runnin’?” Dragging the still bewildered old

man after him, he sped across the

lawn toward the capering figures. And

as the old man ran, he realized. Red no longer had to lead. It became a neck-and-neck affair. It was a rude interruption. Having driven the wild horses to the point of exhaustion, a Fifty-seventh Street Diana, whose father had cleaned up in munitions, was about to lead her fashionable if unclad—or, that is, fashionable and unclad—huntresses upon a perfectly divine chase after an imaginary minotaur, or something. But even a Fifty-seventh Street aplomb, founded on munitions, may be upset by some things. Two large-hatted, strangely clad men, with their necks shaved and fire in their eyes, may be comprised within the category. On behelding their swift and sudden advent Diana, suddenly losing all interest in mythological monsters as a form of outdoor sport, emitted a ladylike squawk and retreated among her frightened followesses. Taking their attitude from that of their leader, said followesses did their best to retreat among one another; with the result that they got to milling; with the further result that, on arriving, all that Red and the old man had to face was a revolving circle of arms and legs and waving veils, from which arose plaintive cries, like sea gulls calling to their mates. For an interval Red and the old man hovered helplessly around the outskirts, powerless to halt or break through. But the impetuous Red was not long to be withheld. “What’ll we do?” he demanded of the old man, yelling to be heard above the noise. “Ride through 'em!” returned the old man. “It’s the only way when they're millin'! An’ if you see one with the Diamond Dot brand, cut her out, and cut her quick!” Years of cattle could not help in excitement but to reach subconsciously. But modern maidens are not cattle. The charge did not stop the milling. Instead it created a stampede. Diana broke. Leaping from the herd, she started across the shaven sward. And her followesses followed. All save one. For, as the huntresses cleared away, one remained. Tall, slender, black haired, and beautiful; straight-limbed, rounded of arm and of— “Dad!” she cried. “Daddy, dear! What in the world are you doing here?” “It ain't what I’m doing,” returned old man Moseby grimly. “It’s what you're doing.” He turned to his fellow herder. “Shut you eyes, Red,” he said. “I am,” said Red. “I mean, they were shut long ago.” He slipped out of his coat and handed it to the old man. “Put this around her,” he directed. “And say when.” “But it's all right,” protested June. “She was Diana, and I’m one of her huntresses and we were going hunting.” “I don’t know the lady,” returned the old man. “But the last part is right. We're going hunting. We’re going hunting first for some clothes, and then for the she terrapins that runs this deadfall.”

T was the most painful interview that the Misses Dane had ever had. Old man Moseby took the floor and refused all invitations to sit down. Redfield Pepperday stood in the doorway, turning his hat as though it were some sort of basket he was weaving. June sat in the corner and cried. The elder Miss Dane attempted to explain. “It is folk dancing,” she said. “It may be some folks' idea of dancing, but it ain’t mine,” old man Moseby rejoined. “My folks danced with their clothes on.” “But this,” protested the younger Miss Dane, she of the man's collar and the tailored coat, “is esthetic dancing. It gives freedom to the body and inspiration to the soul.” “So,” commented old man Moseby, “does takin' a bath. Do they do that in the yard here too?” “Certainly not!” rejoined the elder Miss Dane. “It’s a bet you're overlookin’,” said the old man.

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“I don't want to get ornery,” he went on, “especially with

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ladies. But when I come into the dooryard of this place and find my only daughter doin’ a Highland Fling right out on the open prairie with nothin' on but a mosquito bar, I reckon it's not only my right but my bounden duty to settle back on my hunkers and howl. “I shipped June to this school in good faith. I wanted her to learn things a lady should know. Now, while she's been dressing I sat out into the hall and talked to her. She tells me that she doesn’t know the Portland Fancy or the Lancers or the York, or any of them dances; but only to drive wild horses that ain't there. If she'd wanted wild horses, I could have kept her home and given her some real ones. I asks

her if she knows how to make corn | pone and batter bread and apple dump

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lings. She don’t. Only lobster Newburg, whatever that is, and chicken aller rain. Has she read Dickens and Shakespeare and Hawthorne and William Jennings Bryant? She doesn’t even know who they are. She's been wasting her time on free verse and Hindu poets and other things banned by the immigration authorities. She can't sew and she can't cook. She can't even play on the pianner anything anybody wants to hear. As far as I can find out, she's like a broncho that's been trained to buck, and that's all. Her education may be all right for a show. But it ain't worth a hoot for practical purposes.” “She has learned French,” protested

the elder Miss Dane.

“Mebbe so,” returned old man Moseby.

“That'll come in handy on the long win

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She can sit around and talk French at us.” “Our school,” stated the elder Miss Dane haughtily, “is run for young ladies, not for the bourgeoisie. The accomplishments that seem to you the

ultimate desideratum might do very

Your $4.65 Worth of Roads

Continued from page 18

the Highway, Industries Association appointed each a committee, to form one allied committee, which later formulated, a Uniform Vehicle Law, behind which all these organizations have put their force, looking to adoption by all States. In the law appears this:

No vehicle of four wheels or less, whose gross weight, including load, is more than twenty-eight thousand pounds; no vehicle having a greater weight than twenty-two thousand and four hundred pounds on one axle, or no vehicle having a load of over eight hundred pounds per square inch width of tire upon any wheel concentrated upon the surface of the highway (said width in the case of robber tires to be measured between the flanges of the rim) shall be operated on the highways of this State, provided that in special cases vehicles whose weight, including loads, exceed those herein prescribed, may be operated under special permits granted as hereinafter provided.

In addition there is a table of speed limits, graduated according to whether the vehicle is shod with pneumatic tires or solid tires, according to whether it is to run on open country highway, suburban street or urban street, and according to its weight. Thus, the passenger car is permitted 30 miles per hour in the open country; a solid-tire truck of 28,000 pounds, however, can go but half that speed in the country and but 12 miles per hour in the city. Some of the speed provisions are aimed at personal safety, others at road safety. Twenty-seven States and the District of Columbia have adopted some sort of weight restrictions. Some of them go the proposed Uniform Vehicle Law one better—or, rather, worse. Connecticut allots but 25,000 pounds gross weight and not more than 700 pounds per inch of tire width (nonmetal), or 500 pounds per inch of width of metal tire. Others have gone beyond—away beyond—and must be revised upward. Indiana says: “20,000 pounds capacity only.” North Carolina forbids more than 11,000 pounds capacity. In spite of the fact that many States have taken liberal attitudes on this matter of size and weight restrictions, they have in many instances, such as California, failed to prohibit

well for a maidservant or for the helpmeet of a laboring person, but they have long since become passé with people of higher civilization.” “I reckon mebbe you're right,” replied the old man. “I’ve often wondered why the divorce courts were so crowded. What you say explains it. If there were more corned beef and cabbage and fewer chickens aller rain, there'd be more happy marriages and fewer husbands and wives tellin' unpleasant truths about each other to the judge. And as for the higher civilization, the trouble with our present civilization is that it's gettin' too high. It's so high that the air's rarefied and nobody can breathe in it. It's gettin' to be all frostin’ and no cake. What you and folks like you are doin’ is to put a fancy roof on the house and then forget to build the house. Incidentally, you spend too much time drivin' wild horses that ain’t there. “I can see your idea all right. You mean well. But you’re overplayin' your hand. Your intentions is good. But I'm beginning to see that hell ain't the only place that's paved with good intentions.” He turned to his daughter. “Dry your eyes, little girl,” he said. “There must be a school somewheres around this neck of the woods that's got sense, and where they esteem a dry cellar more than they do red shingles.” He turned to Redfield Pepperday. “How about it, boy?” he said. “Want to stick here a while and lend me a hand?” Red stopped twisting his hat. At length he nodded. “Uh-uh,” he said. “I reckon I do. It seems right excitin' around these parts. Especially,” and he looked mischievously at June, “the wild hosses.” And June, looking up at him, blushed. A fact which the Misses Dane noticed, but viewed with a supreme contempt.

their counties and other subordinate municipalities from enacting restrictions at variance with those imposed by State laws. Here is an evil which needs correction as vitally as the revising upward of the weight-limitation schedule.

It is obvious that a hodge-podge of local conditions is a nightmare to the truck operator who passes through many counties and municipalities within one State.

In many laws there is no realization of the need for the weight-per-inch-oftire clause—far more important than the gross weight. That clause is aimed at overloads, and overloads do more harm than heavier loads not too great for width of tire.

Begin with the Child

OME day all States will have either the Uniform Law or others as good or better. When will depend upon the realization of the final answer to all our highway problems—education. Education matters invariably lag behind the need. There is more inertia in what should be the most progressive of sciences than in almost any other department of human thought. There are great institutions of learning today which cling to outworn traditions of education, revise their curricula a decade behind the age, and do not recognize the need until it is more than urgent. Few of our institutions of learning have considered that the modern road and the automobile have created a new field for the spread of a new knowledge. Certainly our primary schools have but just begun to teach children the rules of the road, and only now, because of considerations of “safety first.” But the results will be much deeper than personal safety. When the public-school system includes as much in its teachng of roads and trucks as it now does of railroads and waterways, and their economic importance, the colleges and universities will be compelled to broaden their pres

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734; fully guaranteed. DAVID WHITE. Dept. 137 412s. waterst. Milwaukee, wis.

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NOTHER of the great reasons why we don’t build roads to-day, why we didn't build roads yesterday, which shall be roads to-morrow is because we don’t know how. We don't know how, largely because for many years we built roads by rule of thumb, by dumping stone onto dirt, by “working out” road taxes with shovel and pick and sod and ignorance. True, we have to-day skilled highway engi* neers, we have laboratories, we have tests, we have experimental roads, but we haven't enough, not nearly enough, o of any of them. i- We have forty-eight States, all of which have some sort of highway commission and some sort of a chief highs way engineer. Not any of them, not all of them together, could give an adequate answer if asked for a rational plan of highway development for the whole country. And it is not their fault. They are educated, competent, skilled engineers. But no engineer can know more than he is taught, or finds out, and no one road engineer can dig out so very much of new road science individually simply because road engineering is so big a subject, works with such large masses of material, through such vast stretches of country, in so many different locations, climates, altitudes, rainfalls, and through such comprehensive vistas of time, that only the experience of the mass can develop a large enough knowledge to help the individual. We have research work being done by the National Government and by some schools. What we need is Federalencouraged laboratories for road work - in each State, and private laboratories - maintained and used with the best of sts ! brains available in many institutions of - learning. It is universal human experience

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that real human need always produces something to fill the need. When the need gets acute enough we shall have our education and our research work for roads and transport; and by that time, it is to be hoped, we will have come to consider road transport as a question just as vital to our national well-being as railroads and waterWayS. r For the truth is that the thing toward which we are stumbling and groping, at what cost in money, ignorance, and inefficiency can only be guessed, is a National Highways System in which the United States Government will take the lead, not the trailer position, in the development of these arteries of commerce which will make truly universal the new means of transport. Consider that we have, all told, nearly a million trucks to-day and less than two hundred thousand miles of road fit for them to run upon; remember that trucks are just coming into their own, and it is obvious that it is only a question of time until this country as a whole must do the needful thing to make them wholly useful to its entire territory. The question is not, shall we have a national. system of highways, nationally built and nationally maintained for the use of the nation, but shall we have it in time to save these unthinkable sums of money we are now pouring out into roads which do not return value received?

How to Do It

E have spent in the last fifteen years enough money to build 60,000 miles of national highways, at $50,000 per mile. We have added 12,500 to our good-road mileage, much of it inadequately built. We have 200,000 miles of so-called “improved” roads, which can be, and often are, cut to pieces to the point of the bitter need of complete rebuilding, by the very motor truck which can and will save time and money in transportation. The problem is a national problem. We need national laws, uniform laws, national education, varied and multitudinous education, national research, State research, private research. We need cooperation between the makers of vehicles and builders of roads. We need a sensible adjustment between the weight which may be carried on four or any number of wheels on a road, the weight which can be borne by any width of solid tire, and the kind of road. We need a national system of highways, and national viewpoint on the new transportation, just as we had to have it on the old (rail and water) and without which we would have had, could have had, neither transcontinental railroad nor Panama Canal nor river and harbor improvement. Not until we get these things can we, as a people, answer honestly and fearlessly as to the money we spend and point with pride to what we spend it for.

Keep America Moving

Continued from page 6

automobile world the day of the freak is over.

People are now buying cars exactly as they buy typewriters, phonographs, pianos, and other commodities, for performance, service, and appearance.

If a car differs greatly from all others, it must go through a severe period of proving to the buyer that its lines and principles are correct and all others wrong. The modern car represents the particular style which the vast majority of the motoring public wants at this particular moment. The public is rapidly becoming motor wise, and in mechanical improvements it not only wants to be told about them, but wants to have definite proof of the manner in which the efficiency and the value of the machine are increased. As the automobile has grown out of the luxury class into the position of a commodity in general use, both its manufacturers and its users begin to appreciate that its principal purpose in the scheme of things is to keep America moving.

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