improvement in the character of the roads. The Georgia roads go up and down hill with most precipitous grading. In South Carolina, the roads were evidently laid out by surveyors, with the result that they wind easily up and down hill. I might say here that there is absolutely no level country between Atlanta and Roanoke. One is continuously climbing or coasting. Fortunately, the "water-break"—that formidable characteristic of the mountain roads of Pennsylvania and other northern States—has never been introduced into the South.

Anderson was the first important town we passed through in South Carolina and next we reached Greenville, a hustling city located 167 miles from Atlanta. As far as Greenville, we had been cutting "cross country" in the sense that we had not followed any line of railroad. At Greenville, we struck the main line of the Southern Railroad and for the next 150 miles, or as far as Salisbury, N. C., we were seldom very far from the main line of this road.

All the way from Atlanta we had been in a cotton country—in fact, we had seen little else being raised. The farmers' wagons we had seen were all loaded with cotton or with cotton seed—the cotton being taken in bulk to the gins and then in bales to the towns for shipment. Starting about at Greenville, we noted a new phase of the cotton industry, namely, the cotton being made into cloth at the point of production, instead of being shipped to Fall River or to Manchester. The advent of the cotton-mill has created the "New South." The profits of manufacturing have been kept at home and have been added to the more precarious profits of agriculture. As a result, the southern mill town shows all the evidences of prosperity to be observed in similar communities in New England.

Continuing northward through the region where "Cotton is King," we followed the route of the Southern Railroad through Chick Springs, Duncan, Spartansburg, Gafney and Blacksburg and finally crossed the State line into North Carolina near the little town of Grover. Next we passed near the foot of historic King's Mountain and then came Bessemer City. Just beyond Gastonia, the next town, we came onto as fine a macadam road as motorist could wish for. We made fast time into Charlotte, slowing down only when we met the chain gang and steam roller at work, and when we crossed the Catawba River by ferry—another of those "automatic" affairs, such as above described. We had long been on the lookout for this macadam. Fifty miles to the south we had been informed by a gentleman of color that within a few miles we would strike a "kalsomined" road. Charlotte is a hotbed of good roads enthusiasm. Macadam roads radiate from it in every direction and all those who visit that hustling city from the neighboring counties take back with them not only some of the enthusiasm, but also the kind of specific information that accomplishes results—for example, that the value of farm land immediately jumps ten dollars an acre as soon as it is connected with a town by a macadam road. From Charlotte to Salisbury, a distance of 46 miles, the road is mostly of macadam, and the few gaps that remain are to be improved within the next few months. After Salisbury came a 4O-mile drive to Winston-Salem through a region where good roads are not yet a reality, although the subject is one of considerable local agitation.

We had gradually left the cotton section behind us and were now in a region where tobacco is practically the only crop. We met on the road an almost unbroken line of farmers wagons carrying their fragrant loads to Winston-Salem, one of the greatest tobacco markets in the world. The wagons used for this purpose are a little different from anything I had previously seen. The body of the wagon is boat-shaped, with greater draft in the center than at the ends, and it is fitted with a canvas top something like that of a "prairie schooner," except that it extends several feet beyond the body at either end.

Leaving Winston-Salem, we had an 11-mile stretch of macadam road to Kernersville, the last we were to see on our journey. At Kernersville, we turned due north and traveled over "give-and-take" roads to Martinsville, Va. Thus far on out journey we had been traveling in a north-easterly direction,

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