Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 108, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 May 1913 — Page 3

Home Course :— In : Road Making XL —The Rehtieu of Automobiles to Modem Highways. By LOGAN WALLER PAGE, Director Office of Public Roads, United States Department of Agriculture. Copyright by American Press Association, 1912.

THE most complex problem now engaging the attention of highway engineers all over the world is the preservation of the crushed stone road under the destructive action of motor vehicles and the devising of new methods of construction adapted to the requirements of this twentieth century traffic. That the automobile has come to stay no one will dispute. It is estimated that there are already about .450,000' ma-

in OILED MACADAM ROAD WITH MACHINE TRAVELING SIXTY MILES FEB HOUR—NO DUST.

chines owned in the United States, and the number Is Increasing at a marvelous rate. The fact that must give us concern is that the old methods of .construction which have stood every test for more than 100 years are inadequate to meet the conditions of this new form of traffic and that we are in the midst of a transition period which must eventually revolutionize the science and art of the road builder. The highway engineer of today is called upon to ascer. tain In what way the automobile injures the road, what is the exact cause of the injury, and finally to devise an adequate remedy. When Tresaguet, the great French engineer, made his report to the council of bridges and roads in 1775 he set forth the principles of construction which, as modified and added to by John L. Macadam in the early part of the nineteenth century, have proved adequate until the twentieth century. These great road builders and their successors sought to secure a road capable of withstanding the wear of iron tired horse drawn vehicles, for the motor driven vehicles had no place In their philosophy. They worked upon the theory that the dust abraded from the crushed stone would fill the voids between the angular fragments and when wet serve as a cement, thereby making the road surface practically a monolith. The iron shod horses and the iron tired wheels passing over the road from time to time were depended upon to wear off a sufficient amount of rock dust to replace that carried away by wind and water, and this under the action of moisture recemented, thereby automatically renewing the bond of the road surface. ~ The rubber tired wheels, moving at excessive speed, fail to produce any new dust from the rock, but the tre- ’ mendous shearing effect of the driving wheels loosens this dust, and as the body of the machine displaces a large volume of air the deflected currents carry the rock dust off the road, thereby effecting a permanent loss of the all essential binder. It follows that the road is soon stripped of Its fine binding material, exposing the upper or wearing course of the stone. These stones robbed of the binding material are soon loosened by the shear of the driving wheels, leaving the road badly raveled or disintegrated. It Is, of course, apparent that the effects described are greatly intensified on curves, where skidding is most frequent Highway and mechanical engineers have given much study to the action of the automobile on the road surface, and many ingenious theories have been advanced. While it is true that the slipping of the tire, skidding, shape of the car body, suction of the pneumatic tires, all contribute to produce the effect, the most conclusive experiments seem to warrant the assertion that the great tractive force or shear exerted by the driving wheels of motorcars is the main factor of injury. A series of testa conducted by the United States office of public roads in 1908 produced some interesting results along this line. Cars of various weights and types were run over a measured course at different rates of speed and right angle photographs taken of each run. A sixty horsepower car stripped for racing, weighing with Its driver and mechanician about 2,800 pounds, was driven over this stretch of road at rates of speed varying from five to sixty miles per hour, the speed being increased five miles per hour for each trip over the road. Up to fifteen miles an hour little or no effect was produced on the road, but from twenty miles an hour the effect was striking with each Increase in speed These demonstra Hons proved that little or no effect is

■ jf ' produced by^he^ front "wheels and that practically the entire disturbance of the road is produced by the rear or driving wheels. If the effect were produced by suction or vacuum the action of both front and rear wheels should be somewhat similar at least It seems apparent to the writer, therefore, that the road best adapted to motor traffic is the road which will best resist this powerful tractive shear. It has already been demonstrated that no plain macadam road is capable of resisting this force. ■ ' . , .. The efforts of progressive highway engineers are thus directed primarily toward the preservation of our stone surfaced roads and the construction of dustless roads by the use of a binder more powerful- than stone dust and. secondly, to minimizing or mitigating the dust nuisance. -i.

For the purpose of discussing Intelligently the experiments thus far conducted with special binders the term “dust preventives” has been applied to all of the various binders having for their main object either suppression or the prevention of dust These, may be divided into two classes, temporary and permanent The temporary, binders serve merely as palliatives and require frequent renewal. The permanent binders, so called, enter into the structure of the road as a constituted element and are either incorporated with the other materials at the time of the con struction or applied later by a surface treatment In the class of temporary binders may be included water, salt solutions, light oils and tars and oil and tar emulsions, waste sulphite liquors, etc., while the permanent binders include the heavy petroleums and tars, pitches and numerous oil, tar and asphalt preparations. The value of salt solutions, which have been used to some extent lies in the hygroscopic character of the dissolved salt, which, having considerable affinity for water, keeps the road surface in a moist condition long after) a surface treated with water alone would have become dry through evaporation.

The light oils and tars as well as the oil and tar emulsions depend for their effect upon a comparatively small amount of true binding base left upon the road surface after the volatile products have evaporated. These materials prove effective only so long as they retain their binding power. When the binding power is destroyed it is necessary to apply more material. The heavy oils and tars differ from the lighter products in that they contains greater of true binding base. The results are, therefore, of a more lasting character and hence the name ‘‘permanent binders.” The semisolid and solid preparations usually contain a still greater amount of binder. With some few exceptions all of the true binders are bitumens. The usual method of applying these materials to the road surface is by sprinkling. The temporary binders can usually be applied cold, but the permanent binders because of their much greater viscosity must be heated until sufficiently fluid. In England and France the use of coal tar is practiced to a large extent, and their methods of application have been highly developed. Machines are in general use which are self propelling and in which .the tar is heated and applied to the road surface as a spray under high pressure. These so called “tar sprayers” are not only very economical in the use of tar, but insure a more even distribution and better penetration of the road surface than it is possible to obtain in almost any other way. In the construction of dustless roads the crucial question is that of cost. The effort must be to develop a form of construction which will withstand fast autorqobile traffic and at the same time be within the financial resources of the community. This is largely being done at present by the use of a bituminous binder instead of rock dust The two methods generally employed are known as the penetration and the mixing methods. In the former the hot liquid binder is sprinkled or sprayed over the stone and allowed to penertate through

AN UNTREATED road with MACHINE TRAVELING SIXTY MIDIS AN HOUR—PLENTY OF DUST.

the voids and coat the atones usually 1 to a depth of two or three inches. In the mixing method the atones and binder are thoroughly mixed either by hand or machine, so that each stone Is covered with a thin film of the binder. This method in general insures the better and more even distribution of the binder throughout the road surface, but the cost is greater than that of the penetration method. One of the chief causes of the great number of failures which have been recorded in the use of bituminous road materials is the failure of the user as well as manufacturer to understand certain fundamental principles. To many a tar is simply a tar and an oil an oil. while in reality there is a vast difference sometimes even in the tars produced at the same works. The oils also range from those of a paraffin base to those almost wholly asphaltic. Specifications for the bitumens should be prepared by an expert and materials should be tested in the laboratory. /

CALEB CONOVER Railroader

By ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE

CHAPTER XXIV. O Billy Shevlin’s Loyalty.

GLANCING over the scene of the late conflict before departing for his ride, his ' glance fell on a solitary, ill-

dressed figure seated at one corner of the deserted table. “Billy!” exclaimed Conover, exasperated, “why didn’t you get out with the rest?” “ ’Cause I don’t belong with that cheap-skate push. I belong here with you, Boss.” “But I’m out of it, you idiot. Out of the game for good and all. I'm leaving Granite.” “When do we start?” Conover looked at his little hu - man in annoyance that merged into a vexed laugh. “I tell you,” he repeated, “I’m out of politics for good.” “So’m I, then,” cheerfully responded Billy. “D’ye know, Boss, I’m kind of glad. Sometimes I’ve suspicioned politics wasn’t —well, wasn’t square. Maybe it’s best that pious men like us is out of it. Now say, Mister Conover,” he hurried on more seriously, “I know what I mean. You want to shake the whole bunch. You’re sore on 'em all. You're goin’ to cut out Granite, too, after the lemon you’ve been handed. But whatever your game is an’ wherever spiel It, it won’t do you no harm to have Billy Shevlin along with you as a ‘also-ran.’ Now, will it? Why, hell, I’ve worked for you ever since I was no bigger-n—no bigger’n Standish's chances of becomin’ a white man. . I ain’t goin’ to cut out the old job . this time of day. If it ain’t Caleb Conover, Governor, I work for, then it’ll be Caleb Conover, Something-or other. An’ that’s good enough for W. Shevlin. So let’s let it go at that. I won’t bother you no more to-night, ’cause I see you’re on edge. But I’m comin’ around in the mornin’. An' when I come I’m comin’ for keeps Just like I’ve always done. —So Boss.” “Poor old Billy!” muttered Conover as Shevlin slipped out too hurriedly to permit of his Leader’s speaking any reply to what was quite the longest speech the henchman made “He’ll never make a go of politics till he gets rid of some act of loyalty Next to gratitood ' ; i another vice that hampers so bad.” Then, dismissing the recent event from his mind, the railroader ran downstairs, lightly as a boy. and to

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LODGE DIRECTORY.

F. & A. M.—lst and 3rd Monday nights. Chapter—lst Thursday night. Eastern Star —Ist and 3rd Tuesday nights. I. O. O. F. —Every Thursday night. Camp—2nd and 4th Friday nights. Rebekah—lst and 3rd Friday nights. K. of P. —Every Tuesday night. Pythian Sisters —2nd and 4th Friday nights. I. O. R. N. —Every Monday night. M. W. of A.—Every Wednesday night Royal Neighbors—lst and 3rd Wednesday afternoons. C. O. of F. —Ist and 3rd Sunday afternoons at 2 o’clock. W. C. O. of F. —2nd and 4th Sunday afternoons at 8 o’clock. O. A. R.—lst and 3rd Saturday afternoons. Ladies of the O. A. R.—2nd and 4th Thursday afternoons. W. R. C.—lst and 3rd Tuesday afternoons. Gleaners—lst and 3rd Saturday’ nights. D. A. R.—26th of each month when not on Sunday. Co. M, I. N. Q. —Every Wednesday night

DRIVING DISTANCES

From Banssslaer to Miles Remington 12 Mt Ayr 8 Pleasant Ridge . 4 Kniman 15 Wheatfield 25 DeMotte . 21 Pleasant Orove 12 Wolcott 18 Francesville .... 18 Aix 8 Monon 18 McCoysburg 8 Lee 14 Surrey -.... 6 Parr 10 Fair Oaks 14 Foresman 12 Julien 10

RAILROAD FARES

From Benssslaer to Monticello j I .50 Delphi 75 Sheridan v... 1.85 Frankfort ... ? 1.26 Indianapolis 2.20 Cincinnati 4.46 Louisville 4.80 Lafayette 85 Crawfordsville 1.60 Oreencastie 2.10 Harrodsburg 8.20 West Baden 4.10 Hammond ........... 105 Chicago 1.50 •St. Louis 7.00 •Via Lafayette, Indiana.

Let the people of Rensselaer and Jasper county know what yogi have to sell; use The Republican Classifled Column. 4

the outer entrance, where Dunderberg was plunging and pivoting in the grip of two grooms. A third groom, mounted on a quieter steed, sat well beyond range of the stallion's lashing heels. Late as it was, Mrs. Conover was still up. Caleb brushed past her in the hall, cutting short the feeble remonstrances with which she always prefaced one of his wild rides. “Oh, Caleb!” she pleaded as she followed him out on the broad veranda. “Not to-night, dear,! Just give it up this once, to please ME! He’s—he’s such a terrible horse. I never saw him so wild as he is now. The men can scarcely hold him. Oh, please—” But the Railroader was already preparing to mount “Don’t . you worry, old girl,” he called back over his shoulder; “he’s none too wild for my taste. There never was a horse yet could get the best of me.” The wind was rising again. It whistled across the grounds, ruffling the puddles and stirring the dead leaves. A whiff of it caught Conover’s hat as he fought his way to the plunging stallion’s back. The exultance of coming battle was already upon both rider and horse. “Your hat, sir!” called one of the grooms, as another sprang forward to catch the falling headgear. But Caleb had no mind to wait for trifles. The night wind was in his face, the furious horse whirling and rearing between his vice-like knee-grip.

“Allright! Let him go! Never mind the hat."

“All right!” shouted Conover In glorious excitement, signalling to the struggling groom to release the bit “All right! Let him go! Never mind the hat Come on, Giles.” Dunderberg, his head free, leaped forward as from a catapult Master and man thundered away down the drive, and were swallowed in the blackness. The double roar of flying hoofs grew fainter then was lost in the solemn hush of the autumn night

CHAPTER XXV.

Dundefberg Solves the Difficulty.

CLIVE STANDISH had spent

rcT

the evening at the Civic League headquarters, awaiting reports of the day’s bat-

tie. The rooms were full of the League’s minor candidates and officials, with a fair sprinkling of women. Anice Lanier, chaperoned by her aunt, with whom she now lived, was there, her high color and the light in her big eyes alone betraying the fearful suspense under which she labored. The belated returns, which should have been telegraphed at once to the League headquarters, were still further delayed by the fact that the one wire now running into town had been preempted by Conover. Hence, it was not until well after one o’clock that Clive received definite news of his own election. Throngs of friends and supporters had, on receipt of the final figures, flocked about him with congratulations and good wishes. To all he had given seeming heed, yet among the crush he saw but one face, read in one pair of brown eyes the praise and infinite gladness he sought. And as soon as he could he departed with Anice and her aunt for the latter’s home, where a little supper for three was to celebrate the victory. They formed a jolly trio about the dainty supper table. Late as it was, all were too excited to feel sleepy or wish to curtail by one minute the little feast of triumph. "To the next Governor of the Mountain State!” proclaimed Anice solemnly, as she lifted her glass. "To be drunk standing and with— No, no, Clive,” she reported as the Governor-elect also rose. "You must not drink It's—” "I'm not going to,” retorted Standish Indignantly. I'm getting up to look for a dictionary.” "But what on earth—” “I want to find the feminine for Governor. And—” “Some stupid political message for you,” hazarded Anice, taking down the receiver. “Yes, this is 318 R. Yes. Yes, this Is Miss La--Oh!” with a changed Intonation. "Mrs. Conover?” A longer pause. Then Anice gave a little exclamation of sympathy, listened a moment and sald: "Yes, we will come at once. But I hope you’ll find Its not as bad as you think. Don’t break down. I'm sure it will be all right” "What Is It?" asked Clive and her aunt In a breath. "I'm not quite sure,” answered the

girl. "She was so upset I could hardty understand her. Besides, the wires are still In bad condition. But it seems some accident or injury has happened to her husband. Gerald is

“To the next Governor of the Mountain State!’'

away, and there is no one the poor woman can turn to so she telephoned for me. And Clive, she wants to know If you won’t come, too. Please, do. You’re the only relative she has. And she’s so unhappy.” “Just as you wish,” acceded Standish, with no great willingness, “but I’ll be sorry to have to-night’s happiness marred by another row with Conover.” “I gather from what she says he is in no condition for a ‘row’ with anyone. I told her we’d come at once. Please hurry, dear. I hate to think of that frightened little woman trying to meet any sort of a crisis alone.”

In the great, comfortless drawingroom of the Mausoleum, on a couch hastily pushed into the centre of the room under the chandelier, lay Caleb Conover, Railroader. Two doctors, who had been working over him, had now drawn back a few paces and were conferring in grave undertones. At the foot of the couch, clad only in nightgown and slippers, as she had been aroused from bed, her sparse hair tight-clumped in a semicircle of kid-curlers, Mrs. Conover crouched in whispering groups of servants blocked the doorways or peered curiously in from behind curtains. The air was thick with the pungent smell of antiseptics. The Railroader, lying motionless be neath the unshaded glare of a halfdozen gas-jets, was swathed of head and bandaged of arm. He was coat less, and his shirt and waistcoat were thrown open disclosing his mighty chest Across the couch-end his feet still booted and spurred, protruded stiffly as & mannikin’s. It was upon this scene that Anice and Clive entered. At sight of the girl, Mrs. Conover scrambled to her feet, and with a wild outburst of scared sobs, scuttled forward to meet her, the bedside slippers shuffling and sliding grotesquely along the polished floor. Anice took the panic stricken, weeping creature into her arms and whispered what words of comfort and encouragement she could. Meanwhile Clive, not desiring to break in on the doctor’s conference, turned to the doorway again and asked a question of one of the servants. For reply the groom, Giles, was thrust forward and obliged to repeat, with dolorous function, for the tenth time within an hour, the story of the accident. “You see, sir,” he said, lowering his voice as though in the room with a corpse, “Mr. Conover sent word for me to ride with him. We started off at a dead run, and my horse couldn’t noways keep up with Dunderberg; so I follows along behind as fast as I could, but I couldn’t keep up to the right distance between us to save me Mr. Conover turns out of the drive up Pompton Av’noo, sir, and on post the Mumason place, me a-followin’ as fast as I could. All of a sudden 1 catches up. It’s in that dark, woody patch of road just this side the quarries. The way I happens to catch up is because Dunderberg was havin one of them tantrums of 'his an' Mr. Conover was givin’ it to him for all he was worth, crop an’ spur, an’ Dunderberg a-whlrlln’ around and passag in’ an’ tryin’ his best to rear. An every time that horse’s forelegs goes up in the air Mr. Conover'd bring his fist down between his ears an’ down’d ’come Dunderberg on all-fours again They was takin* up all the road, wtde as it Is, an’ Dunderberg was lashin' an* plungin’ like he was crazy, an Mr. Conover stickin' on like he was glued there and sendin’ in the spurs and the whacks of the crop till you’d 'a' thought he’d kill the brute. Then Dunderberg makes a dive ahead an gets out alongside the quarry-pit an tries to rear again. Right on the edge of the pit” “Yes," said Clive excitedly, as the groom paused, “and then?" "Why, sir, I can’t rightly tell, the light waa bad. If it’d been anyone else but Mr. Conover, I’d say he lost his nerve, an' when Dunderberg reared up he forgot to bring him down like he’d done those other times, or maybe he did hit the horse between the ears again an' didn’t hit hard enough. Anyhow, over goes Dunderberg backward—clean fifteen feet drop —into the quarry. An' Mr. Conover under him. An' then—" . But Clive had moved away. The doctors had finished their consulta-

tion. and one of them—Dr. Hawes, the Conover family physician—had again approached that silent figure on the couch. At sight of Standish the second doctor came forward to meet him. "No," he whispered, reading the, unspoken question in Clive’s face. "no possible hope. He can’t last over an hour longer at most Another man, crushed as he was, would have been killed at once. As it is, he probably won’t recover consciousness. Nothing but his tremendous vitality holds the shreds of life in him so long as this.” “Does his wife know—" “She is not in a state to be told. I wish we could persuade her to leave the room. Perhaps Miss Lanier —" A gesture from Dr. Hawes drew them toward the couch. “He is coming to his senses,’’ said the family physician, adding under his breath, so that only his colleague and Clive could hear; "it is the final rally. Not one man in a thousand—” But Clive had caught Anice’s eye and beckoned her to lead Mrs. Conover to the side of the couch.

The Railroader’s face, set like carven granite, began to twitch. The rigid mouth relaxed its set whiteness and the eyelids flickered. Mrs. Conover, at these signs of life, prepared for a fresh attack of hysteria, but a gentle, firm pressure of Anice’s hand In hers forestalled the outburst. With an aggrieved look at the girl, Letty again turned her scared attention to her husband. Dr. Hawes was bending once more over the prostrate man, seeking to employ a restorative. Now he rose, and as he did so, Caleb’s eyes opened. There was no bewilderment, no surprise nor pain in the calm glance thatswept his garish surroundings. “Is he suffering?” whispered Anice. “Or—?” “Horribly,” returned Dr. Hawes in the same tone. “He —”

The shrewd, pale eyes that scorned to show trace of physical or mental anguish, slowly took in the group beside the couch, resting first on the two physicians, then on Anice Lanier. As he saw and recognized Anice the first change came over the dying man’s hard-set features. A look of perplexity that merged into glad surprise lighted his whole face, smooth ing from it with magic touch every line of care, thought or time; transfiguring it into the countenance of a happy boy. Long he sought and held her sympathetic glance, that look of youth and gladness growing and deep ening on his face, while all around stood silent and marvelling. It was Mrs. Conover who broke ths spell. “Oh, Caleb!" She wailed querulous ly, “you said no horse could get the better of you. And now —’* At her words the beatific light was gone from Conover’s eyes. In its stead came a gleam of grim, ironical amusement. Then his gaze travelling past Anice to Clive Standish, his brows contracted in a frown of displeasure. But this, too, faded. The swathed head settled lower among the cushions, the powerful body seemed to shrink and flatten. The eyes closed, and Conover lay very still His wife, divining for the first time the actual state of affairs, flung herself forward on her knees beside the silent figure, her sobs scaling to a crescendo cry of terror. Slowly Caleb Conover opened his eyes. Reluctantly, as though drawn back by sheer force from the very threshold of the wide portals of Rest his spirit paused for an instant longer in its earthly abode —paused and flared up, as a dying spark, In the Railroader’s stiffening face. For a moment his eyes—already wide with the awful mystery of the Beyond—strayed over his kneeling wife; over the sparse locks bunched up in that halo of kid curlers; over the pudgy shape so mercilessly out lined by the sheer nightgown; over the tear-swollen red eyes, the blotched cheeks, the quivering, pursed-up mouth.

"Letty,” he panted, in tired disgust “you look—more like a measly rabbit —every day!" Then, as though another and better thought had entered his darkening mind, be reached out his hand toward his wife, whether to signify a sentiment of protection or a desire for help no one could devine, but it fell inertly to his side and the soul of this masterful man passed behind the veil of time. THE END.

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Indications that the high water mark of Immigration through the port of New York will be reached this year are contained in the April figures showing that 108,980 aliens entered New York -during the month. The Increase over April. 1912, was 33,531, and the totals tor the four months beginning January 1, show the entry of 268,067 Immigrants, as compared with 202,977 In the corresponding period of 1912, or an increase of 65,000. Last year 605,000 Immigrants entered New York.