mid-Atlantic roller, and dust of that 1100 miles of railroad since New York was left behind, but still with many traces, under dust and seediness, of Scandinavian rustic fashion; altogether a homely people, but destined ere long to lose every vestige of their old Norse habits under the grindstone of the great mill they are now entering.  That vast human machine Which grinds Celt and Saxon, Teuton and Dane, Fin and Goth into the same image and likeness of the inevitable Yankee—­grinds him too into that image in one short generation, and oftentimes in less; doing it without any apparent outward pressure or any tyrannical law of language or religion, but nevertheless beating out, welding, and amalgamating the various conflicting races of the Old World into the great American people.  Assuredly the world has never witnessed any experiment of so gigantic a nature as this immense fusion of the Caucasian race now going on before our eyes in North America.  One asks oneself, with feelings of dread, what is to be the result?  Is it to eliminate from the human race the evil habits of each nationality, and to preserve in the new one the noble characteristics of all?  I say one asks the question with a feeling of dread, for it is the question of the well-being, of the whole human family of the future, the question of the advance or retrogression of the human race.  No man living can answer that question.  Time alone can solve it; but one thing is certain-so far the experiment bodes ill for success.  Too often the best and noblest attributes of the people wither and die out by the process of transplanting.  The German preserves inviolate his love of lager, and leaves behind him his love of Fatherland.  The Celt, Scotch or Irish, appears to eliminate from his nature many of those traits of humour of which their native lands are so pregnant.  It may be that this is only the beginning, that a national decomposition of the old distinctions must occur before the new elements can arise, and that from it all will come in the fulness of time a regenerated society:—­

“Sin itself be found,
A cloudy porch oft opening on the sun.”

But at present, looking abroad over the great seething mass of American society, there seems little reason to hope for required alteration.  The dollar must cease to be the only God, and that old, old proverb that “honesty is the best policy” must once more come into fashion.

Four hundred and six miles intervene between Milwaukie, in the State of Wisconsin, and St. Paul, the capital and principal city of the State of Minnesota.  About half that distance lies through the State of Wisconsin, and the remaining half is somewhat unequally divided between Iowa and Minnesota.  Leaving Milwaukie at eleven o’clock a.m., one reaches the Mississippi at Prairie-du-Chien at ten o’clock same night; here a steamer ferries the broad swift-running stream, and at North Macgregor, on the Iowa shore, a train is in waiting to take on board the now sleepy passengers.