an act of incorporation for the I. O. of O. F. in the State of Louisiana.— By the strong aid of some friends in the Senate and House of Representatives the bill passed without difficulty. Our friend, Gov. Mouton, has sanctioned and signed the bill, and by this act now we are in power and respectability in this State. I hope that all the members will pursue with incessant activity the path now freely open for the prosperity and welfare of the Order; all difficulties are removed; the Masonic authorities have cancelled their former resolutions, and the union established between the two philanthropic institutions. I hope also to see shortly the Hall in progress and speedily terminated, which will give a great lustre to our Order. (A description of which I have already forwarded to you.)

The R. W. G. Lodge of Louisiana has granted permission for a celebration of the Order in this State, which will take place on the 26th of April, in New Orleans; and inviting all the brothers of the Order in the United States to co-operate on the occasion by their presence.

Michigan-Extract of a letter from D. D. G. Sire Samuel Yorke At Lee, dated Detroit, April 2, 1844.

Herewith I transmit the report of Michigan Lodge, No. 1, I. O. O. F. from the time of institution to the 25th ultimo, when closed the quarter, accompanied by a draft in your favor for $48..31, the amount of the 10 per cent. due to the G. L. U. S. on our aggregate receipts up to the date aforesaid.

You will see from the official report enclosed that the Independent Order flourishes.

On Monday night, the 1st inst., our new term commenced, and by virtue of my office I had the pleasure of installing, in ample form, William Duane Wilson, N. G., Benj. F. Hall, V. G. and Adrian R. Terry, Sec'y. I was assisted by P. G. Forbuy, of the G. L. of Ohio, who happened to be in town, and kindly consented to officiate as G. Conductor. I never saw more meritorious conduct than was exhibited by the brethren. All present seemed to be actuated by the true spirit; and each fulfilled so well his part, that the imposing ceremonies established for such occasions, obtained their full effect. The Installation Ode was sung admirably.

I feel myself under much obligation to brother P. G. Forbuy for his aid to me during his sojourn in this city; and I am glad to state, that the brethren generally so well appreciate his fraternal courtesy as to adopt a vote of thanks, which has been conveyed to him through me.

After installation we proceeded to initiation and increased our number to 67. There were seven other candidates in waiting who were compelled to retire, and a special meeting ordered to-morrow evening for their and our accommodation.

We are kept constantly at work, and on the very best materials too. It would be impracticable to select a better set of individuals in Detroit than have been received into Michigan Lodge. Many citizens also from the interior of the State are knocking at our portals for admission; and the close of this year will, no doubt, witness several auxiliaries in various parts of the country,

It was during my college days that I first imagined the plan of a tour in Italy, after this fashion-there were to be two of us, my friend Dupré and myself, we were to travel on foot, each to have one thousand francs to spend, and allow ourselves three months for the frolic.

But there is ever some difficulty between the projection and execution of a plan, ours was always a trifling one, yet sufficient to delay, vex, and perplex us. The first time we made the attempt I was appointed treasurer. At the hotel in Marseilles a very polite gentleman requested me to change a bill for him. I drew out my purse, performed the requir ed ceremony, and as I supposed returned my treasure to its place. Ine. ver could understand how the thing was managed, but the purse disappeared with my polite acquaintance-I never saw it again, and we returned to Bordeaux half laughing, half ruined, and half starved.

The second time, I fell sick at Montauban. The third time, I had just received my diploma; Dupré also had been lately admitted to the bar. This time it was he whom fate chose for the victim-in the neighbourhood of Béziers he got married. I will relate how the accident happened. My friend Dupré was a handsome man, and a most fascinating companion. He was of middling height, well formed, vigorous and agile. His features perhaps were not perfectly regular, yet eyes full of vivacity and

intelligence gave a peculiar attraction to his countenance. Though a little fickle, and not a little rash, he was particularly skillful in seeming whatever it was most his interest to be, and he was really endowed with a moderate portion of sensibility; he had ever a tear in reserve for his unfortunate friends, but a much more abundant provision of smiles and jokes for his joyous ones-and he was naturally obliging, especially in things which did not cost him much trouble.-As for the rest, he frankly avowed that no very elevated virtue was his forte; enjoyment was his object, and he computed his days by the number of his sensations.

Loving virtue a little, hating vice only a little, rather indifferent to every thing except pleasure, there was however one subject on which he could be enthusiastic, an exquisite musician, with a most melodious voice, his mind appeared to expand whenever he spoke of that art which alone possessed the power of spiritualizing his otherwise mundane soul.

On the whole, poor Dupré with all his varied qualities might have been but an indifferent friend, yet he was the most delightful traveling companion whom I ever knew. The first of May, 1789, found us breathing the balmy air of Languedoc. I will however omit the unimportant incidents of our journey and proceed at once to the conjugal drama in which my friend was an actor.

We had passed through Béziers in the morning, and walked all day; night was fast approaching, and it overtook us completely before we reached a resting place. But the prospect of sleeping under the canopy of heaven gave us no uneasiness, and we had already fixed on a majestic oak as our head-quarters when the rolling thunders which threatened a sudden tempest, induced us to continue our search for a suitable refuge from its wrath. The darkness was so extreme that we could scarcely see a step before us, and we soon discovered that we had lost the beaten path by finding ourselves entangled among brush-wood and briars-we were both however in excellent spirits, and though a fall now and then did occur, it but afforded fresh subject for merriment. In this manner we proceeded for upwards of an hour, during which time all indications of the storm passed away; yet having resolved to find a shelter, we would not relinquish our object.

At length, at the extremity of a valley we observed a bright light, which we hailed with enthusiastic hurras. To the best of our abilities we proceeded straight towards it, unconscious that a wide and deep ditch intervened between us. This however we soon discovered by finding ourselves rolling to the bottom of it in company. "Ah," said Dupré, giving himself a rising shake, "would any of the beauties whose hearts I broke last winter at my aunt's soirées, now refuse the tear of pity? What say you Don Quixote, is not this the cave of Montesinos?

"Not quite, it is only the ditch which bounds the estate of the person from whom we must seek hospitality. It has a most aristocratic air, you must acknowledge."

"It may be so, but our first object at present is to get out. You, having the advantage in height my dear Doctor, must lend me the aid of your shoulders. When I am safe out, I will gallantly offer you my hand, and then we will bend our steps once more towards the brilliant star that has wrecked us, and which should now conduct us into port."

A few minutes afterwards found us as nearly as we could judge, in a

long avenue of large trees. Their spreading foliage rendered the darkness yet greater, but happily the cheering light still glowed at the extremity. "Come on," said Dupré, "and God grant that the philanthropic proprietor may not have adorned this magnificent avenue with man-traps or spring-guns."

"Be silent and listen," said I, suddenly checking him, "I hear a man's voice, some one comes this way: it would be rather awkward to be taken up as vagabonds till further information.-Do you hear?" added I, lowering my voice.

"I hear a woman's voice," said Dupré, "and that never appeared a bad augury to me-who knows, perhaps without intending it we are to be present at a sentimental meeting in these woods between Diana and her Endymion; (in those days we used to study Mythology) it would be something to tell of."

We now remarked that our guiding light occasionally disappeared, as if some opaque and moving body interposed itself between us; very probably some of the family were approaching, and as I thought it rather uncivil to obtrude on them in that place and at such an unusual hour, I dragged Dupré behind a hedge, with the design of pursuing our route after they had passed.

Considerably to our embarrassment however, on reaching a bank nearly opposite to us, they stopped, and seating themselves, continued the conversation, while we were so situated as to be involuntary listeners; and this accidental circumstance was destined to decide the fate of my friend

"My dear daughter," said a manly voice, "I wish to believe your assertion, but an affectionate father is not so easily deceived; again I entreat you, confide in me as your best friend."

"Father," replied a voice of much sweetness, though apparently enfeebled by suffering, or grief, "I can only repeat again that nothing troubles me."

"It is very singular," whispered Dupre, "but that melodious voice. surely seems familiar to me."

"What if it is?—be quiet"

"What avails this reserve," rejoined the father, "do you think I am imposed on? you are unhappy, I know it-come, tell me all about itcan you still refuse your father who never refused any thing to you?" "This grows interesting," said Dupré.

The young lady spoke again, but in a broken voice, and so low that we caught only the words "dear father," "grief," and "love."

"And is it for this that you are hiding your head in my bosom-foolish girl! unless it is to express your regret at having ever concealed a thought from your father. You are beautiful my child-who would not glory in possessing you?-But I understand, you have perhaps given your heart to one whose fortune is not equal to mine, and you think that I shall oppose your happiness-but dismiss such fears, if he has but fair fame and a heart worthy of my child's, you have only to name him, and I will call him my son."

"That must be an uncommon sensible man," said Dupré.

"Alas! father, his fortune is not the obstacle, though I believe it to be less than our own-but I knew your sentiments-and in other respects he is fully our equal. The difficulty is something that you do not think of-it is that-he-he-does not love me."

"Ah! that to be sure is something rather unexpected-but what mor tal can have been so insensible! who is he? what is his rank? where have you seen him?"

Doctor," whispered Dupré, "how do you stand this? for my part I cannot but wish that I were the happy man myself."

"Last winter at Bordeaux," said the young lady, "at the soirées of Madame de Lansac."

"Of my Aunt!" exclaimed Dupré, in the greatest astonishment.

"You may perhaps recollect him dear father; I believe he was destined for the bar-a young man but little taller than myself-he often sung the airs of our Piccini."

"I am dreaming!" murmured Dupré, "or this is miraculous." "He is a nephew of Madame de Lansac."

"Good Heavens!" said the excited Dupré, "she must be speaking of

me!"

"His father, I have heard, was an officer of distinction."

"That confirms it," said he, drawing a long breath, "but who can this lady be?"

"I sung the Italian duet with him which you admire so much." "And I have sung it with a dozen others—that does not enlighten me at all."

"I remember-I remember him"-said the father, "his talents were highly spoken of."

Father-in-law, I thank you!" said Dupré, "but was ever man in such a predicament as myself? cannot I guess?"

"Madame de Lansac had a great regard for him."

"You are very polite sir," said Dupré, "can it be Miss Marsillac ?no, she is certainly now in Paris."

"He really," said the young lady, "appeared to remark me❞— "Confound them," said Dupré, "I remarked all the girls."

"And every time we met I thought his eyes expressed the same pleasure that I experienced myself."

"It must be Miss Bernillet," said Dupré, musingly-"no-she is just

married."

"But I undoubtedly deceived myself, and his compliments were no more than the requisite civilities of society-for it is now three months since we quitted Bordeaux, and in all that time I have never heard from him he loves me not," said she, weeping.

"But I do love you, I adore you," said Dupré, "for you are beautiful; that your father has told me: you have a sweet voice, that I have heard, and you are rich, as this estate proves. But why the devil does not the old gentleman mention her name?"

We lost a part of what followed from the father, "nonsense! I tell you it is impossible. What! a young man insensible to the charms of my beloved child!"

"But her name, you unnatural father! do you know that the name of your beloved daughter has never yet passed your lips?"

"Console yourself, and trust to me, I shall know no repose till my Julia is made happy."

"Julia! Julia what? I am as much in the dark as ever. Julia! no, I cannot recollect her. But no matter father-in-law, I place full confidence