At one station where we stopped to water our engine, I saw two children of the soil; they have good reason to complain at their lot. The buffalo and antelope driven away, and if they are hungry they are told to go and dig; dig, how can they dig? let us reverse the picture. Suppose that our cities and towns were by the Indians turned into a prairie, and when we were hungry they told us to go away and catch a buffalo, a pretty hand I should make of catching a buffalo. The sooner the poor fellows are shot down or killed by small-pox, the sooner they will go to their happy hunting grounds. As the Norway rat kills all other rats that it meets, so the savage must disappear, and the Northern races of Europe will exterminate them. There is one exception, the African negro, and no matter what you do to him he thrives under the treatment; whether free or in slavery he multiplies and is happy. Strange that rum which kills the Indian, only makes him fat. But the king of savages--the New Zealander--has the fairest island, in the most favored clime, taken from him, and civilization forced upon him. There is no getting away from this civilization now. But I am thankful to say that I was at San Francisco before it arrived there. When out shooting I saw the fresh foot-prints of a grizzly bear, and did not know how far the gentleman might have been from me at that moment. Now, I should like to know how far you would have to travel, and how much you would have to spend, before you could experience the same delightful sensation. I have seen real Indians with real bows and arrows, in Vancouver's Island; and the place where I then saw them, now has become the head-quarters of the Pacific squadron; and the Indians, instead of flattening their heads, no doubt have put on the Grecian bend. Where is all this to stop? It was pointed out to me that most of the telegraph-posts were struck by lightning; no wonder; for that king of natural forces, that for so many thousands of years has reigned supreme-splitting the granite rock, and shivering the mighty oak at his will--now to be brought into existence at the will of an apothecary boy, placed in two cups and locked up in a cupboard, and then made travel day and night, over hill and dale, and under the vast ocean, to carry messages at the bidding of man,--no wonder, I say, that he should try and knock the whole concern into a cocked hat!