I have tried to describe the country as it is; and my readers of different occupations can draw conclusions and choose localities for themselves. But my advice to those who are comfortably nestling in the folds of civilization, where the church-bell strikes, where the school-houses dot the land, and where utter want is ever barred, is, Stay where you are; educate your children and be content with good. To those who have no money,--especially those who have families,--I will say, For God’s sake stay where help is near and charity abounds; for I assure you that I have _seen_ the _destitute_ in a strange land. Of course, there are beautiful lands in parts of several states and territories, where good farms can be had, and where, some time in the future, the steeples of great cities will glitter in the sunlight. There is, undoubtedly, an opening here for the agriculturist; but emigrants must expect to find the country new, the facilities and accommodations scarce, and the neighbors poor. To be safe, they should always have sufficient capital to run them a year or two. I have known persons to drift west with the excitement and arrive in a splendid land without a cent, as though expecting to find bread upon the bushes, crops ready to harvest, and wealthy neighbors. The first year’s crop failed because of insects, drought, or some other peculiarity of the western prairie, and their condition was then more deplorable than the poorest from whence they came. There are persons who make it a business to accommodate the unfortunate settlers with money; but the security is mortgage on property, and the interest is usually two per cent per month, or twenty-four per cent per year, and some are obliged to pay fifty per cent. Borrowed money never fails to produce a crop; but the _soil_ may _fail_, and produce is also of poor sale. From this hint warning consultations can be drawn, and persons with families should take heed.