Mr. Adaib has most opportunely opened a new country for our investigation - Michigan - a state from which your readers have not for a long time heard. One hundred and twenty-eight bushels of pears on a single tree, in one season! Well, Detroit " may walk up to the head." Why cannot Mr. Adair get some of the soil analyzed, in which the luxuriant old pear trees grow, and see what it is composed of? It would be gratifying to our pomologists to know. Still the fact of the antiquity of the trees, and their height and circumference, is not to be doubted any more than that they have always stood there, for all that any living man knows to the contrary. And that the trees have been entirely neglected in their cultivation from infancy, is quite as probable - for who ever knew a French habitan, or Coreur du 'bois, as that distant country was for two centuries inhabited with, to take care of any thing beyond his beaver traps or fishing tackle?

When your new grails on the old trees begin to bear, will you, Mr. Adair, be so kind as to send to this paper, an account of the fruits produced. It will be an interesting subject. May we not, now the ice is out of Detroit river, again hear from that favored region?