Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

a lie most perfect Government would be that which, emanating directly from the People, Governs least —Costs least—Dispenses Justice to all, arid confers Privileges on None. —BENTHAM, VOL. Lj DR. W.M. GREEN-EDITOR. AMEF.XCAN D3MOOEAT. • PUBLISHED WEEKLY, IN THE REAR OF J. BARNES' BOOKSTORE. COTTON AVENUE, MACON, GA. AT TWO DOLLARS PSR ANNUM, EO-IN ADVANCE. «CU Rates of Advertising, &c. One pqunre, of 100 words, or less, in small type, 73 cents for the first insertion, and 50 cents for each subsequent inser tion. All Advertisements containing more than 100 and less tha -200 words, will be charged as two squares. To Yearly Advertisers, a liberal deduction will be made. tty- N. B. Sales of LAND, by Administrators, Executors Os Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of 10 in the fore noon, and 3 in the afternoon, at the Court-Ifouse in the Coun ty in which the property is situa'ed. Notice of these must be given in a public Gazette, SIXTY DAYS, the day of sale. Sales of PERSONAL PROPERTY, must be advertised in the same manner, FORTY DAYH previous to the day of sale- Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate, must be pub* jished FORTY Days. Notice that application wffl he made to the Court of Ordi tarv, for leave to sell LAND, must be published FOUR MONTHS. Sales of NEGROES, must be made at public auction, on the first Tuesday of the month, between the legal hours of gale, at the place of public sales in the county where the let* t ers testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, shall have been granted, SIXTY DAYS notice being previously given in one of the public gazettes of this State, and at the door of the Court-House, where such sales are to beheld. Notice for leave to sell NEGROES, must be published for POUR MONTHS, before any order absolute shall be made thereon by the Court. All business of this nature, will receive prompt attention, at he Office of the AMERIC\N DEMOCR AT. REMITTANCES BY MAIL.— “A Postmaster may en close money in a letter to the publisher of a newspaper, to pay the subscription of a third person, and frank the letter, if written by himself.” A mo* Kendal /, P. M. O. COMMUNICATIONS addressed to the Editoii Post Paid. POETRY. POEM. PROM TIIF. SPANISH liF JOHOR MANRKIUE. There is, however, one beautiful poein by Jorge Manrique, on the death of his father, so immeasura bly superior to.the rest, that it appears the produc tion of another age. It is surpassed hy nothing which we arc acquainted with, in the Spanish lan guage, except thfa odes of Louis de Leon. The flow of the verse, and the fine antique air of the whole, are inimitable; but we shall endeavor to present, in an English shape, some of the opening sta»/.as, ob serving, as nearly as possible, the peculiarities ot the versification. — Kd. ltcvicw. O ! let the soul its slumber break, Arouse its senses and awake, To see how soon Life, with its glories, glides stray. And the stern footstep of decay Comes stealing on. How pleasure, like the passing wind, Hows hy, and leaves us nought behind But grief at last; llow still our present happiness Seems, to the wayward fancy, hss Than what is past. And while we eye the rolling tide, Down which our flying minutes glide Away so fast-. Let us the present hour employ, And deem each future dream of joy Already past. Let no vain hope deceive the min 1— Iso happier let us hope to find To-morrow than to-day. Our golden dreams of yore were bright, Like them the present shall delight— Like them decay. Our lives like hasting streams must be, That into one cngulphing sea Are doomed to fall: The Sea of Death, whose waves roll on, O’er king and kingdom, crown and throne, t And swallow all, Alike the river’s lordly tide, Alike the humble riv’h ts glide To that sad wave ; Death levels poverty and pride, And rich and poor sleep side hy si le Within the grave. Our birth is but a starting place, Life is the running of the race, And death the goal: There all our steps at last are brought, 77ml jiath alone, of all unsought, Is found of all. Say, then, how poor ami little worth, Are all those glittering toys of earth That lure us here; Dreams of a sleep that Meath must break, Alas ! before it bids us wake, Ye disappear. Long ore the damps of death can blight The cheek’s pure glow of red and.white Hath passed away Youth smiled, and all was heav’nly fair; Age came, and laid his linger there, And where are they 1 Where are the strength that mocked decay, The step that rose so light and gay, Tho heart’s blithe tone ! The strength is gone, the step is slow, And joy grows weariness and woe When age comes on. A Genius. —lt is said that Judge Sto ry has a son about 23 years of age, who is a beautiful sculptor, paints superbly, is a poet of more than ordinary promise, plays exquisitely on a number of musi cal instruments, is familiar with a num ber of languages, practices somewhat ex tensively at the bar, and is about to pub lish a legal work of great value and acute ness. DEMOCRATIC BANNER TREE TRADE; LOW DUTIES; NO DEBT; SEPARATION TROIW BANKS; ECONOMY; RETRENCHMENT; AND A STRICT ADHERENCE TO THE CONSTITUTION.—.#. C. C.11.M101.Y. Randolph in London. Very shortly after Mr. Randolph’s ar rival iii London, a splendid ball was giv en under the immediate patronage of Cieorge the Fourth and the principal no bility, lor the benefit of the poor Irish peasantry of Munster and Connaught, who were suffering from the effects of famine, attended as usual by disease. It was a magnificent affair, and, under the potent spell of royalty, every person of rank and note in and near the metropol is, attended. Upwards of three thousand guineas were paid over to the charity fund, as the net profit of the fashionable exhibition of philanthropy. Randolph attended, glad of the opportunity to give his mite, and to behold at the same time, the congregated aristocracy of Great | Britain. “It was cheap, sir, very cheap,” said he to me—“actors and,actresses innu merable, and all dressed out most gorg eously. There were jewels enough there, sir, to make new crowns for all the monarchs of Europe ! And I, too, republican as I am, must needs go in a court dress ! Well, sir, don’t imagine that I was so foolish as to purchase a i new suit, at a cost of twenty-five or thir !ty guineas. Oh, no ! I have not studied London life for nothing. 1 had been told, sir, that many a noble would ap pear at the ball that night with jewels hired for the occasion; and I took the hint, sir, and hired a full court dress for five guineas. When I beheld myself in the glass, I laughed at the oddity of my appearance, and congratulated myself that I was three thousand miles from the | Charlotte Court-1 louse. Had I played (lie harlequin there, sir, I think my next | election would he doubtful. I stole into the room with rather a nervous walk, and was about selecting a very quiet position I in a corner, when your countryman, } Lord Castlereagh, seeing my embarrass | merit, came forward, and with an air of the most finished politeness, insisted up |on being my chaperon. For one hour, | sir, he devoted himself to me, and point : ed out all persons of notoriety in the | crowd as they passed us in review. Such was the fascination of his manners, I for got, for the moment, that I was speaking to the man who had sold his country’s independence and his own ; who had lent his aid to a licentious monarch to destroy his queen, who, if guilty, might I point to her husband’s conduct as the cause of her fall. But, sir, I was spell ; bound for that hour, for never did I meet (a more accomplished gentleman; and yet he is a deceitful politician, whose character none can admire. An Irish tory, sir, I never could abide.” Randolph and myself little thought, whilst we were discussing the noble lord’s character, that in one short month from that time, he would,unbidden, rush into the presence of his Creator, with all his sins and frailties on his head ! I re member well the horror I felt when I heard of his awful death ; and I reverted at once to iiis calm and dignified appear ance and noble hearing, as I had seen him so recently in the House of Com mons. If his political sins were great, most fearful was the retribution. Miss Edgeworth and Randolph met together for the first time at the breakfast table of a very distinguished Irish mem ber of Parliament, (new a peer of the realm.) It occurred the week before my arrival in London, and I lost that literar ary treat. The gentleman to whom I refer, told me that it was an actual feast, such as he had rarely enjoyed before. To use his own words : “Spark, produced spark, and for three hours they kept up the fire, until it end ed in a perfect blaze of wit, humor, and repartee. It appeared to me that Mr. Randolph was more intimately acquaint ed with Miss Edgeworth’s works than she was herself. He frequently quoted passages where her memory was at fault, and he brought forward every chrracter ofanynotein all her productions; but, what most astonished us, was his inti mate knowledge of Ireland. Lad.y T. and myself did nothing but listen, and 1 was really vexed when some public bu siness called me away.” One morning 1 was sitting with Ran dolph, when lie showed me a most friend ly note he had received from Miss Edge worth just before she left town, inviting him to pay her a visit in Ireland. After 1 had read it, I said to him— ‘‘l think, Mr. Randolph, as yoti have enjoyed so much of her society, and as 1 have been so unfortunate as to have mis sed her, you might give me that note as a keepsake.” “Give you that note, !’’ exclaimed he with great emphasis ; “I would not part with it for half my estate.” We were going into the city one day in a carriage, to make some calls, and just as we entered one of the most crowd ed parts of Fleet street, Randolph sud denly called to the driver to stop, and turning to me, said— “ There goes a great philanthropist, sir, to whom I must positively introduce you; he is one of the best men in the world, and is about to reform all mankind b\ the aid of parallelograms, and by a knowledge of ‘circumstances.’” JVtACON, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1843. We descended from the carriage, and in two minutes time I became well ac quainted with that most communicative of human beings, the celebrated Robert Owen, of New Lanark. In the course of our short street conversation, he asked me where I resided. I replied, in New York. He took a memorandum of it, which did not excite any special obserD ation; but, judge of my surprise next morning, upon pouring over the Times, at the breakfast table, to see my naqje and residence at full length in Mr. Ow en’s advertisement, as one of the manag ers of his new society for the Reforma tion of mankind ! I showed it to Ran dolph, who laughed heartily, and told me that he had served him in the same way.' In the course of the morning Mr. Ow en paid us a visit, and 1 immediately ob jected to being placed in so prominent a position, and the more especially as I was then entirely ignorant of his system. With perfect self-possession and good humor, he replied: “My dear sir, we are all the children of circumstances ; and I knew, from the first glance I had of you, that you were fond ot' good company. Look "at my ad vertisement, sir. Does it not contain the names of the greatest and best men in the country, and surely your character will not suffer by coming into close con tact with such men ?” I ascertained afterwards that several of my distinguished fellow-managers had been introduced into the advertisement in a similar way; but Mr. Owen was so exceedingly good natured and kind in his manners that it was impossible to get angry with him. We, therefore, laughed at our accidental notoriety, and the more, as we were never called upon, whilst in London, either to attend a meeting, or, what is more remarkable, to pay any money ! At this time. Mr. Owen had not openly avowed his infidel opinions, and, as his motives appeared to be purely philanthro pic, he had the countenance of many good and pious men. My father invited him to pay a visit to Ireland, supposing that some of his practical views might be ad vantageously adopted amongst the peas antry in the agricultural districts. lie accepted the invitation and catuc to Lim erick before my departure for America. Avery pious lady in the county of Clare; distinguished for her benevolence, in the course of conversation with Mr. Owen, discovered his heterodoxy on religious subjects, and on his departure from her house she presented him with a Bible, telling him at the same time that before his plans could receive her sanction ho must study this book, and acknowledge the truth of its contents. A few days af terwards, at a public meeting in Limer ick, called at his request for the purpose of developing his doctrine of Circnmstan stances, a Roman Catholic Priest ques tioned him very closely, and finally forc ed him to admit that he entirely discard ed the Bible as a part of his system.— This gave the death blow to his labors in Ireland, and the religious world thence forth were cautious how tfcey gave coun tenance to any of his schemes. He came to America, as is well known, and 1 saw a good deal of him whenever he visited New York. Some oT my rend ers will probably recollect his first public meeting at the City Hotel, where he told the audience (a highly respectable and intellectual one) that a belief in the doc trine of rewards and punishments was the cause of all the misery at present in the world, and that no reformation could take place until we became convinced that man was altogether the creature of circumstances. He predicted that in two years from that time the city of New York wouid be deserted ; that grass would be growing in the streets ; that the people would fiock into his communities, where all things were to be held in common ! The audience were amused at his absu dities, which they very good-naturedly applauded and laughed at by turns. Legal Interest. The following table, exhibiting the legal rates of interest allowed in the dif ferent States and. Territories within the Government of the United States, and the punishment inflicted for usury by each State, may prove of service as a matter of reference. Maine. — G per cent. Punishment for usury forfeit of the usury. New Hampshire. —G per cent. For feit of three times the amount unlawfully taken. Vermont. —6 per cent. Recovery in an action, with costs. Massachusetts.—6 percent. Forfeit of threefold the usury. Rhode Island. —6 per cent. Forfeit of the usury and interest on the debt. Connecticut. —6 per cent. Forfeit of the whole debt. New York. —7 per cent. Usurious contracts void. New Jersey. —7 per cent. Forfeit of the whole debt. Pennsylvania. —6 per cent. Forfeit of the whole debt. Delaware. —6, andontobaco contracts 8 per cent. Usurious contracts void. Maryland. —6, and on tobacco con tracts 8 per cent. Usurious contracts ' void. I T itginia. —Bper cent. Forfeit double the usury taken. North Carolim. —G per cent. Con tracts for usury void—forfeit double the usury. South Car/lina. —7 per cent. For feit of interest and premium taken, with cost to debtors. Georgia. —S per cent. , Forfeit three times the usury, mid contracts void. Alabama.— B per cent. Forfeit of in terest and usury. Mississippi. —B per cent. By con tract as high as 10. Usury recoverable in an action for debt. Louisiana. —s per cent. Bank in terest G, and conventional as high as 18 —beyond that, contracts void. Kentucky. —G per cent. Usury may be recoverable with costs. Ohio.— G per cent. Usuriouseontracts void. •Indiana. —G per cent. On written agreement may go as high as 10. Pen alty, of usury a line of double the excess. Illinois. —G per cent. Penalty, three fold the amount of the whole interest. Missouri. —o, and by agreement as high as 10 per cent.—beyond that, for feiture of the whole interest due and usu ry taken. Michigan. —7 per cent. Forieit of the usury taken and one fourth of the debt. Arkansas. —G per cent. By agree ment, any rate not exceeding Kb A mount of usury recoverable but contracts void. District of Columbia. —G per cent. — Usurious contracts void. Florida. —B per cent. Forfeit of in terest and excess in case of usury. Wisconsin. —7 per cent. By agree ment, uot over 12. Forfeit, treble the excess. lowa. —Tiic same ns in Wisconsin. On debts or Judgments in favor of the United States, interest is computed at the rate of G per cent, per annum. An Escape Irom an Elephant. On the fourth day’ he saw, through some tall trees, with but little brushwood growing under them, in the direction he was about to take, three elephants quietly feeding, one of them very much smaller than the others. The latter, quickly per ceiving him, though he tried to conceal himself, first went towards the two old ones, and then, turning suddenly round, ran, as if in playq after him. He, there fore, made off as fast as he could, looking on every side in hopes of seeing some tree which he could ascend ; but not one presented itself fit for his purpose, none of their branches being low enough for him to grasp. Thus running, and not being, in his haste, sufficiently cautious, down he fell, just before his young and frolicsome pursuer, which stopped short upon seeing him lying cn the ground, stared at him for a moment, then ap proached nearer, touched him with its trunk, turned him gently over and over before him; and felt and smelt him, again and again. All this time the terrified weight’s greatest fear was, that the in quisitive beast would put his large and seemingly heavy foot upon him, (for he was more than half grown,) and thus finish him at once, as a kitten would put a mouse out of pain when tired of play ing with it. Neither of the old ones hav ing, however, as yet come up, or taking any notice of their hopeful’s amusement, but, on the contrary, continued feeding about two hundred yards off, upon the leaves of a free, it struck the poor fellow, who had in some measure recovered his senses, that the best thing he could do was, to spring up suddenly and shout as loudly as he possibly could, and endea vor to make off’. His doing so complete ly startled the young elephant, and sent it back, bellowing, towards the others, when all three of them rushed after him, breaking and bending the smaller trees and brushwood, as.well as every thing else that obstructed their course. Fear lending him speed, he was soon able to leave them behind; and, after a long run, arriving, completely exhausted and out of breaih, at the place where, the evenTng before, he had procured the co coa nuts ; he there, without loss of time, and still impressed with the terror which his rencontre with the elephants had oc casioned, got tip into a tree,and remained tn it for some minutes, until he felt that he was again able to continue his labori ous journey.— Cambell's Excursions in Ceylon. The Sea Elephant/ Tt is curious to remark, says Mr. Wed dell, in the account of his voyage towards the South Pole, that the sea elephant, when lying on the shore, and threatened with‘death, will often make no effort to escape into the water, but lie still and shed tears, only raising his head to look at the assailant, and though very timid, will writ with composure the club or lance which is to take his life. Inclose contact every human effort would be of little avail for the destruction of this ani mal unwieldly as it is, were it to rush forward and exert the power of its jaws ; for this, indeed, is so enormous, that, in the agony of death, stones are ground to powder, within its teeth.— Sat. Cour. From the Saturday Courier. M K AMI AL BEKTW AND. Ilis reception in this City—Brief Account of liis Military < areer. This has been a gala week in our city among the French residents. The dis tinguished Old Soldier Bertrand, lias been welcomed with the warmest enthu siasm. Monday morning, he received the con gratulations of thousands, who called up on him, at Independence Hall, and seat ed as he was in the very room where was declared tin; Declaration of Ameri can Independence, fee could not but think of the great difference to mankind from the results of the French Revolu tion and that which accompanied the vir tuous liberty of the United States of A merica. In the evening of Monday, the French gentlemen gave the Marshal a Banquet at Jone’s Hotel. The Baron d’Hauter ive, the French Consul, presided upon the occasion, assisted by Messrs. Picot, Nancredn, Latour and Chaperon. It Was altogether a grand affair: and the senti ments complimentary to France and to our own country, were received with unbounded applause, showing a good feeling between the people of the two countries. Bertrand has been a soldier from his youth. Before the star of Napoleon rose over the troubled nations of Europe, he was a soldier of Franco. Afterwards he became a part of the Corsican’s destiny, lie was with him on the Danube, and made a roaci over it for his conquering army. He fought at the battle of Lut zen, and followed Napoleon in his victo rious campaigns, till Marmont’s treason sent him to Elba. He shared bis year’s exile, and was at his right hand when he again entered Paris amid the shouts of the people. Me went with him at last to the fatal field of Waterloo, and saw there the mighty drama end. We never hear the name of Bertrand mentioned, without thinking of his last effort to save Bona parte at the close of that dreadful battle. When victory had again and again been within his grasp, and again and again been snatched from it, and Blucher had at length affected a junction with the al lied forces, Napoleon, ns a last desperate effort, fell on the utlconquered Imperial Guards. When about half way to' the eriemy’s line, lie stopped, and addressed them, tel ling them of the trust he committed to them. The cry of “Vive le Empereur” that replied, was heard all over the field of battie; and under Ney they defiled before him, and marched with a firm and steady step, aiid in dead silence on the foe. Bertrand remained behind with him, and watched the brave fellows as cend the eminence, and move undaunt edly forward to settle the fate of Bona parte, France and Europe. This guard of 1500 had never been vanquished ; and the allied forces saw with awe the troops that had been the terror of Europe, move steadily down upon their centre. The fire suddenly abated. But the pause was only momentary. Every cannon seemed to open n't once, and whole ranks were swept away. But that unconquerable guard knew tlie eye of their chieftain was upon them, and with stem, unshaken front,.continued to advance. They press ed on through blood and slaughter, car rying every thing before them,'till they penetrated within the enemy’s line. Ber trand stood beside Napoleon, and watch ed this terrific strife, on which such aw fit! results rested, and on the approach of that fearless guard, that nothing seemed able to check, until they reached within fifty yards of where Wellington stood. A volley then opened on them that noth ing could resist. They reeled and stag gered to the shock, and turned and lied in confusion. Napoleon seeing his in vincible guard routed and cut to pieces, gnashed liis teeth with mge, and instant ly resolved torallvthefugitivesin person, and lead themon to one more desperate ef orf. doubtless with tlie purpose of retriev ing his loss, or dying on tlie field of bat tle. In this critical situation, Bertrand, with Drouet, threw himself before him, and besought him, with an opportunity that would not lie denied, to forbenr.— They told him how much the safety of France and the army depended on his life ; and at last persutided him to desist. Dccoster says that Napoleon then turned to Bertrand, and said, a Jt is finished !” and gallopped oiFwith hissnite. Through that long and terrible night Bertrand lied by his side, while the thunder of artillery came at intervals on the midnight air, telling them what a bloody field and ru ined hopes lay behind. But Bertrand’s affection never faltered. It remained the same when, without a crown, helpless and poor, Bonaparte passed to the rock that was to be his tomb. Bonaparte should have been prouder of that affec tion than of liis hundred victories. It was worth tlie loss of a crown to know that he could bind so closely to him such a faithful and devoted heart. We do not wonder, then, that the old Marshal is welcomed everywhere in our country with the greatest enthusiasm. Let any think what they may of the character of Napoleon—all men admire bravery, honor and faithful affection. Bertrand was Napoleon’s friend till the last hour of his life, and now that his I { NO. 27. ashes have been conducted in triumph to his devoted France, Bertrand sees in that act of popular enthusiasm, that in truth and reality Napoleon Bonaparte was the greatest star, in the eyes of his country, that ever rose for their glory and admiration. And the enthusiastic man ner with which Napoleon’s devoted, friend has been received and honored in our land, is a proof, we think, that the fate of Napoleon has tiever been regard ed by the American people as advancing the honor or gallantry of the Englislf Nation. Audubon, Nf.w York, Nov. 7, 1843. To day, I met a most singular friend ns I was coming down Broadway. Let mo describe him, liefore I tell you his name. He was a tall, gaunt man, some what bowed with age, with a sharp aqui line nose, and an eye of the color and penetrating brilliancy of that of a hawk His hair which was its white as that of a Polar bear, hung in long festoons down upon his' neck, and his beard no less white, quite covered the whole of his chest, liis dress consisted of a long gray frock coat closely buttoned, green leg gings, and a strong pair of cowhide boots. To look into the face of the man, you would say, that he was at least eighty years of age, yet when you saw him mo ving with the swiftness and agility of a deer along tlie pavement, you could not have thought him more than thirty. All the little boys around and even the grown children were attracted by his ap pearance. “It must be some fanatic,” said one, “who has just come out of his long fast.” “Certainly,” said another, ‘he looks to me like a venerable apostle.’ “What a glorious and venerable beard !” exclaimed a third, ‘and such eyesP shout ed a fourth. As I knew the stranger ve ry well, I was disposed to laugh at tho vague conjectures of the populace. A well dressed person, observing perhaps that 1 looked at the phenomenon more intelligently than the rest of them, polite ly stepped towards me, and askeu if I knew who that strange creature was. “I do,” said I, “and am happy again to sec one of the most remarkable men that this country has ever produced. That old figure,” I continued, “has had a wide and wonderful experience. He has slept in the cane-brakes of Kentucky with the wildcat; he has dined at the tables of the proudest nobles of Europe. He has been lost for days in the sand barrens of Florida, ho has been followed with en thusiasm hy the crowds of the Parisian saloons. In the solitary huts by the far side of the Rocky Mountains he is well known, and lie has been the companion ot Professor Wilson, Buckland, Lucieii Bonaparte and Cuvier.” “Who the devil is he then ?” asked my chance companion, growing impatient and puzzled under my grandiloquent but rather vague description. Why, I re sumed, “lie is a person, familiar with all the birds of the air and the beasts of the field; one who has taken the portrait of all of them m their native beauty, with ti fidelity and splendor that will do him eternal honor ; whose praises the oriole and the wren will sing long after such feeble things .as you and 1 shall have been forgotten even by our own descend ants. In short, said l, seeing the fellow get more restless, he is Mr. John James Audubon, the Naturalist.” “Oh !” utter. <1 tho genius, 1 <fc turned short upon his heels.' New Method of Grafting Apple Trees. A correspondent of tlie Farmer’s Gn zette sends the following: “Plant tlie seed in rows at a suitable distance from each other, arid the hills say about five feet apart in each row. But one tree should be suffered to grow in a place.' Now when the tree is sufficiently grown, in the spring of the second or third yen , any quantity of fruit may be grafted into' it in the following manner: First, bend the tree over, and obtain for it a firm resting place, either on a block or a boa. • i resting on the knee, (after it has been cl - vested of its branches,) and with a stout sharp pointed knife, pierce holes directly through the centre of the tree, about fiu; inches apart, into which the scions an* to be introduced—leaving about two or three,buds. A trench is then to be dug, in a direct lino between the trees, about four inches deep, and the whole tree bent and buried, leaving the top of the scions above the ground. In this con dition, the scions become uniformly thrii - ty young frees, supported and nourished from the buried tree, from which issue, in dttc time, root* frcin its entire length. The second year from this operation, the whole parent tree may be dug up, the new growth sawn apart, and transplant ed. It will thus be seen that if the tree is five feet in height, ten or twelve young trees, of whatever quality is chosen, may be obtained in this way, whereas, by the ordinary method of grafting, there could be but one, provided the graft lived. The young scion will bear fruit, thus trans planted, in the same time it would had i : been grafted into a tree fifteen years* old I know not whether this process is new among your agricultural communi ty at the North ; but I have repeated!; witnessed it in Georgia or Alabama, and I have been informed ty some of the best horticulturists in these States, that it is* always successful.”