The first operation in a newly settled country is what is termed to clear it. Look at a civilized country, such as England. It _is_ cleared. The encumbering woods are cut down, the unhealthy marshes are drained. The noxious animals which were once the principal inhabitants of the land are exterminated; and their place is supplied with useful creatures, bred, nourished, and domesticated by human art, and multiplied to an extent exactly proportioned to the wants of the population. Forests remain for the produce of timber, but they are confined within the limits of their utility;--mountains "where the nibbling flocks do stray," have ceased to be barriers between nations and districts. Every vegetable that the diligence of man has been able to transplant from the most distant regions is raised for food. The fields are producing a provision for the coming year; while the stock for immediate consumption is ample, and the laws of demand and supply are so perfectly in action, and the facilities of communication with every region so unimpeded, that scarcity seldom occurs, and famine never. Rivers have been narrowed to bounds which limit their inundations, and they have been made navigable wherever their navigation could be profitable. The country is covered with roads, with canals, and now, more especially, with railroads, which render distant provinces as near to each other for commercial purposes as neighbouring villages in less advanced countries. Science has created the electric telegraph, by which prices are equalized through every district, by an instant communication between producers and consumers. Houses, all possessing some comforts which were unknown even to the rich a few centuries ago, cover the land, in scattered farm-houses and mansions, in villages, in towns, in cities, in capitals. These houses are filled with an almost inconceivable number of conveniences and luxuries--furniture, glass, porcelain, plate, linen, clothes, books, pictures. In the stores of the merchants and traders the resources of human ingenuity are displayed in every variety of substances and forms that can exhibit the multitude of civilized wants; and in the manufactories are seen the wonderful adaptations of science for satisfying those wants at the cheapest cost. The people who inhabit such a civilized land have not only the readiest communication with each other by the means of roads and canals, but can trade by the agency of ships with all parts of the world. To carry on their intercourse amongst themselves they speak one common language, reduced to certain rules, and not broken into an embarrassing variety of unintelligible dialects. Their written communications are convoyed to the obscurest corners of their own country, and even to the most remote lands, with prompt and unfailing regularity, and now with a cheapness which makes the poorest and the richest equal in their power to connect the distant with their thoughts by mutual correspondence. Whatever is