Besides the country roads are, sometimes, even in our best settlements, remains of old logs, nearly rotted away, an old stump or so, and on the sides of the road, upon either side of the waggon track, stumps and convolutions, just as it came from primeval forest, and never smoothed down by the hand of man. The waggon track, passing between these stumps, decaying logs and hillocks, will generally be a good one, but it is this unfinished appearance which causes the European to tell us, with a shade of truth, that things are begun in America but not yet finished. Driving in Europe all seems finished. There is nothing left in the roads, and even if they be narrow, the hedges or walls upon either side are perfect, and there is nothing to mar the scene. It is literally finished. Man has done all there is to do. We must, of course, recollect that ours is a young country, and I am only presenting this disagreeable side of our country that we may begin to right these features. For utility and resource the people of Europe cannot begin to compare with us. The very nature of things here, commencing as we did a few years ago in the native woods, compelled us to seek the quickest and easiest ways of getting on. But all that is past now, and we ought to commence to finish our country. Those who remain constantly at home do not feel the deficiency so particularly, but to those who go abroad these defects are so glaring that one notices them at every turn. The more we beautify our country the better it will please ourselves, and likewise will be the means of inducing capitalists from abroad to invest among us. We may often see, in driving along our roads, first-class capacious barns and sheds, and every fence on a farm neat and tidy, gates all right, nicely painted, and the whole get-up of the farm neat and thrifty. At the same time this farmer may be living in an ordinary farm-house, or perhaps the original log-house which he built when he commenced to subdue the forest. The farmer is among our best citizens, and presents a striking contrast to our American cousin, who builds a showy house first, and perhaps a very small barn afterwards. This farmer has carved his fortune from his forest and farm, and appreciates that his stock makes money for him, hence he prepares first-class stabling for them, while his own family lives in meagre quarters within square log walls. No doubt his family are quite comfortable in their log-house, but do not essay to cut so great a figure in the world as many of his neighbors of much smaller means and fewer acres. Many times this person will own his 200 or 300 acres, and all paid for. He drives great fat horses on the road, and pulls his cap squarely down on his head, and goes on as if he meant business, which he really does. It is a matter of indifference to him if his wife and daughters be dressed in the latest fashions or not. If they have good, strong, serviceable clothing, he considers it sufficient, and