th. There is
being revived the plan of twenty years ago for the canalization of one
of the best-known and most important rivers of the Blue Ridge
Country--the Big Sandy. As a means to that end there is an organization
called the Big Sandy Improvement Association and, with a mountain man,
Congressman A. J. May, to espouse its cause, things look promising for
the project.

The mountain men and their city co-workers get together and speak their
minds and exchange views at dinner meetings down in the Big Sandy
Valley. A survey is being conducted to show to what extent a navigable
river would aid industry, especially the coal business. Mountain men are
joining their practical knowledge with the scientific knowledge of men
of the level land who are putting the plan of canalization of the Big
Sandy River before Uncle Sam for consideration and backing.

The people of the Blue Ridge mountains are learning slowly and surely to
mingle and to work with others. That again is due to good roads.

Once there was the simple manner of making sorghum, whereby the mountain
man paid for the use of the mill in cash or cane; today there is the
Sorghum Association which helps the mountaineer market his product.
There is even a Blackberry Association whose trucks drive to the very
door and load up every gallon a family can pick.

Conservation is evident on every side and mountain people are realizing
the benefits in dollars.

Where once timbering was carried on in an appallingly wasteful manner,
reforestation under the guidance of trained leaders is under way. Camps
of the CCC dot the whole southern mountain region and fruits of their
efforts can be seen in the growing forests on many a mountain side. In
Mammoth Cave National Park alone 2,900,000 seedlings were planted to
stay gulley erosion in an area of 3,000,000 square yards.

Mountain boys who have entered CCC camps are rated high in obedience,
deportment, and adaptability to surroundings. Some of them have never
been away from home before. Many have been no farther than the nearest
county seat.

Frequently the mother back home can neither read nor write but she shows
with pride a letter from her son. "My boy's in the Three C's. He's writ
me this letter. Read with your own eyes." You see her glow with genuine
pride of possession as you read aloud--perhaps the hundredth time she
has heard it--the boy's letter. The mother shows it to everyone who
crosses her threshold there in the Dug