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Dcuotcb to Citcmturc, Science, anil Art, t!)e Sons of temperance, ©bir Tcitoiuslpp, Jttasonrn, anil ©cncral intelligence.
VOLUME I.
POSTSi,
FANNY FORRESTER S BIRD.
Kre last year’s moon lmd left the sky,
A birdling sought my Indian nest,
And folded, oh, so lovingly!
Her tiny wings upon my breast.
From morn till evening’s purple tinge.
In winsome helplessness she lies ;
Two # rose leaves, with a silken fringe,
Shut softly on her starry eyes.
There’s not in Ind a lovelier bird,
Broad earth owns not a happier nest;
Oh, God, thou hast a fountain stirred,
Whose waters never more shall rest.
This beautiful, mysterious thing,
This seeming visitant from heaven,
This bird with the immortal wing,
To me—to me, thy hand has given.
The pulse first caught its tiny stroke,
The blood its crimsoned hue from mine;
This life, which I have dared invoke,
Henceforth is parallel with thine.
A silent awe is in my room—
I tremble with delicious fear;
The future, with its light and gloom,
Tune and eternity are lie re.
Doubts —hope—In eager tumult rise;
Hear, oh, my God ! one earnest prayer:
Koom for my bird in Paradise,
And give her angel plumage there!
gllii W T- Aißi.
THE VILLAGE DOCTOR.
BY MADAME D’ARBOUVILLE.
“ What is that?” exclaimed several persons as-!
sembled in the dining-room of the chateau of
Burcy.
The Countess of Moncar had just inherited,
from a distant and slightly regretted relation, an
ancient chateau which she had never seen, al
though it was at barely fifteen leagues from her
habitual summer residence. One of the most el
egant, and almost one of the prettiest women in
Paris, Madame de Moncar was but moderately at
tached to the country. Quitting the capital at the
end of June, to return thither early in October, she
usually took with her some of the companions of
her winter gaieties, and a few young men, Selec
ted amongst her most assiduous partners. Mad
ame de Moncar was married to a man much older
than herself, who d’d not always protect her by
hispresence. Without abusing the great liberty
she enjoyed she was gracefully coquettish, ele
gantly frivolous, pleased with trifles, —with a com
pliment, an amiable word, an hour’s triumph —
loving a ball for the pleasure of adorning herself,
fond of admiration, and not sorry to inspire love,
when some grave old aunt ventured a sage re
monstrance— l% Mon Dial!” she replied; “do let
me laugh and take life gaily. It is far less dan
gerous than to listen in solitude to the beating of j
ones heart. For my part, Ido not know if I even
a ' e a heart!” She spoke the truth, and really
upon that point. Desirous to re
-ITVIm §0 - s he thought it orudent to leave herself
no time for reflexftm. ‘
I? c lUe morning in September, the countess
an ier guests set out for the unknown chateau,
nen mg to pass the day there. A cross road,
pinu practicable, was to reduce the journey to
h\ G . , ca o ues - The cross road proved execra
e> tile travellers lost their way in the forest; a
arriage broke down ; in short, it wss not till mid
(a) that the party, much fatigued, and but mode
ratety gratified by the picturesque beauties of the
scenery, reached the chateau of Burcy, whose as
pect was scarcely such as to console them for the
annoyance of the journey. It was a large sombre
uilaing with dingy walls. In its front a garden,
llle n out of cultivation, descended from terrace
0 terrace; for the chateau, built upon the slope
. a wooded hill, had no level ground in its vicin
“y- On all side sit was hemmed in by mountains,
e trees upon which sprang up amidst rocks, and
a dark and gloomy foilage that saddened the
eyesight. Man’s neglect added to the natural
wild disorder of the scene. Madame de Moncar
stood motionless and disconcerted upon the thresh
old of her newly acquired mansion.
“ This is very unlike a party of pleasure,”
said she; “ I could weep at the sight of this dis
mal abode. Nevertheless here are noble trees,
lofty rocks, a roaring cataract ; doubtless, there
is a certain beauty in all that; but it is of too
grave an order for my humor,” added she with a
smile. “ Let us go in and view the interior.”
The hungry guests, eager to see if the cook,
who had been sent forward on the previous day,
as an advanced guard, had safely arrived, willing
ly assented. Having obtained the agreeable cer
tainty that an abundant breakfast would soon be
upon the table, they rambled through thechateau.
The old-fashioned furniture with tattered cover
ings, the arm-chairs with three legs, the tottering
tables, the discordant sounds of a piano, which
for a good score of years had not felt a finger,
afforded abundant food for jest and merriment.—
Gaiety returned. Instead of grumbling at the in
conveniences of this uncomfortable mansion, it
was agreed to laugh at everything. Moreover,
for these young and idle persons, the expedition
was a sort of event, an almost perilous campaign,
whose originality appealed to the imagination. —
A faggot was lighted beneath the wide chimney
of the drawing room ; but clouds of smoke was
the result, and the company took refuge in the
pleasure grounds. The aspect of the gardens
was strange enough ; the stone-benches were cov
ered with moss, the walls of the terraces, crum
bling iu many places,- left space between their
ill-joined stones for the growth of numerous wild
plants, which sprung out erect and lofty, or trailed
with flexible grace towards the earth. The walks
were overgrown and obliterated by grass ; the
parterres, reserved for garden flowers, were inva
ded by wild ones, which grew wherever the heav
ens afford a drop of water and a ray of sun; the
insipid bearbine enveloped and stiffed in its en
vious embrace the beauteous rose of Provence ;
the blackberry mingled its acrid fruits with the
red clusters of the current-bush ; ferns, wild mint
with its faint perfume, thistles with their thorny
crowns, grew beside a few forgotten lilies. When
the company entered the enclosure, numbers of
the smaller animals, planned at the unaccustomed
intrusion, darted into the long grass, and tlie star
tled birds flew chirping from branch'to branch.—
Silence for many years the undisturbed tenant of
this peaceful spot, fled at the sound of human
voices and of jovous laughter. The solitude was
appreciated by none —none grew pensive under
its influence ; it was recklessl}’ broken and pro
faned. The conversation ran upon the gay even
ings of the past season, and was interspersed with
amiable allusions, expressive looks, covert com
pliments, with all the thousand nothings, in short,
resorted to by persons desirous to please each oth
er, but who have not yet acquired the right to be
serious.
The steward, after long search for a breakfast
bell along the dilapidated walls of the chateau, at
last made, up his mind to shout from the steps
that the meal was ready —the half-smile with
which he accompanied the announcement, proving
that, like his betters, he resigned himself for one
day to a deviation from his habits of etiquette
and propriety. Soon a merry party surrounded
the board. The gloom of the chateau, its desert J
site and uncheery aspect, were all forgotten ; the
conversation was general and well sustained ;
the health of the lady of the castle —the fairy
whose presence converted the crazy old edifice
into an enchanted palace, was drank by all pres
ent. Suddenly all eyes were turned to the win
dows of the dining room.
“What is that?” exclaimed several of the
guests.
A small carriage of green wicker-work, with
great wheels as high as the body of the vehicle,
passed before the windows and stopped at the
SAVANNAH, GA., THURSDAY, JUNE 14, 1849.
door. It was drawn by a gray horse, short and
punchy, whose eyes seemed in danger from the
shafts, which, with their point of junction with
the carriage, slooped obliquely upwards. The
hood, of the little cabriolet was brought forward,
concealing its contents, with the exception of two
arms covered with the sleeves of a blue blouse,
and of a whip which fluttered about the ears of
the grey horse.
“ Mon Dicu /” exclaimed Madame de Moucar.
“ I forgot to tell you I was obliged to invite the
village doctor to our breakfast. The. old man
was formerly of some service to my uncle’s fam
ily, and I have seen him once or twice. Be not
alarmed at the addition to our party ; he is very
taciturn. After a few civil words, we may for
get his presence ; besides, I do not suppose he
will remain very long.”
At this moment the dining-room door opened,
and Dr. Burnaby entered. He was a little old
man, feeble, and insignificant-looking, of calm
and gentle countenance. His gray hairs were
collected into a cue, according to a bygone fash
ion; a dash of powder whitened his temples, anil
extended to his furrowed brow. He wore a black
coat, and steel buckles to his breeches. Over one
arm hung a riding coat of puce-coloured taflety.
In the opposite hand he carried his hat and a
thick cane. His whole appearance proved that
lie had taken unusual pains with his toilet; but
his black stockings and coat were stained with
mud, as if the poor old man had fallen into
a ditch. He paused at the door, astonished at
the presence of so many persons. For an in
stant, a tinge of embarrassment appeared upon
his lace ; but recovering himself, he silently sa
luted the company. The strange manner of
his entrance uave the guests a violent inclination
to laugh, which they repressed more or less suc
cessfully. Madame de Moncar alone, in her
character of mistress of the house, and incapa
ble of failing in politeness, perfectly preserved
her gravity.
“Dear me,* doctor! have you had an over
turn ! ” was her first inquiry.
Before replying Dr. Barnaby glanced at all
these young people iu the midst of whom he
found himself, and, simple and artless though his
physiognomy was, he could not but guess the
cause of their hilarity. He replied quietly:
“ I have not been overturned. A poor -carter
fell under the wheels of his vehicle ; I was pass
ing and I helped him up.” And the doctor took
possession of a chair left vacant for him at the
table. Unfolding his napkin, he passed a corner
through the buttonhole of his coat, and spread out
the rest over his waistcoat and knees. At these
preparations, smiles hovered upon the lips of ma
il}” of the guests, and a whisper or two broke the
silence ; but this time the doctor did .not raise his
eyes. Perhaps he observed nothing.
“Is there much sickness in the village?” in
quired Madame de Moncar, whilst they were
hel ping the new comer.
“Yes, madam, a good deal.”
“ This is an unhealthy neiehhorhood ? ”
“ No, madam.”
“ But the sickness. What is it? ”
“ The heat of the sun in harvest time, and the
cold and wet of winter.”
One of the guests, affecting great gravity,
joined in the conversation.
“So that in this healthy district, sir, people are
ill all the year round ? ”
The doctor raised his little grey eyes to the
speaker’s face, looked at him, hesitated, and
seemed either to check or seek a reply. Mad’e
de Moncar kindly came to his relief.
“ I know,” she said, “that you are here the
guardian genius of all who suffer.”
“Oh, you are too good,” replied the old man,
apparently much engrossed with the slice ofpasty
upon his plate. Then the gay party left Dr.
Barnaby to himself, and the conversation flowed
in its previous channel. If any notice was ta-
jken of the peaceable old man, it was in the
form of some slight sarcasm, which, mingled
with otberdiscourse, would pass, it was thought,
unperceived by its object. Not that these young
| men and women were generally otherwise than
polite and kind-hearted ; but upon that day the
journey, the breakfast, Iho merriment and slight
excitement that had attended ail the events of
the morning, had brought on a sort of heedless
gaiety and communicative mockery, which ren
dered them pitiless to the victim whom chance
had thrown in their way. The doctor continued
quietly to eat, without looking up, or uttering a
word, or seeming to hear one; they voted him
deaf and and umb, and he was no restraint upon tha
con versation.
When the guests rose from table, Dr. Bnrnaby
took a step or two backwards, and allowed each
man to select the lady lie wished to take into the
drawing-room. One of Madame de Moncar’s
friends remaining without a cavalier, the village
doctor timidly advanced, and offered her his hand
—not his arm. His fingers scarcely touched hers
as he proceeded, his body slightly bent in sign of
respect, with measured steps towards the draw
ing-room. Fresh smiles greeted bis entrance, but
not a cloud appeared upon the placid countenance
of the old man, who was uow voted blind, as
well as deaf and dumb. Quitting his compan
ion, Dr. Barnaby selected the smallest, humblest
looking chair in the room, placed it in a corner,
at some distance from everybody else, put his
stick between his knees, crossed his hands upon
the knob, and rested bis chin upon his hands.—
In this mediative attitude lie remained silent, and
from time to time his eyes closed, as if a gentle
slumber, which he neither invokedmor repelled,
were stealing over him.
“Madame de Moncar ! ” cried one of the guests,
“ I presume it is not your intention to inhabit this
ruin in a desert?”
“ Certainly I have no such project. But here
are loftv trees and wild woods. M. de Moncar
may very likely be tempted to pass a few weeks
here in the shooting season.”
“ In that case yon must pull down and rebuild,
clear, alter, and improve?”
“ Let us make a plan ! ” cried the young coun
tess. “Let us mark out the future garden of
my domains.”
It was decreed that this party of pleasure
should he unsuccessful. At that moment a heavy
cloud burst, and a close fine rain began to fall
Impossible to leave the house.
“How very vexatious! ” cried Madame de
Moncar. “What shall we do with ourselves!
The horses require several hours rest. It will
evidently be a wet afternoon. For a week to
come, the grass, which overgrows everything,
will not be dry enough to walk upon ; all the
strings of the piano are broken ; there is not a
book within ten leagues. This room is wretch
edly dismal. What can we do with ourselves? “
The party, lately so joyous, Was gradually
losing its gaiety. The blithe laugh and arch whis
per were succeeded by dull silence. The guests
sauntered to ihe windows, and examined the sky,
but the skv remained dark and cloud-laden.—
Their hope's of a walk were completely blighted.
They established themselves as comfortably as
they could upon the chairs and settees, and tried
to revive the conversation ; but there are thoughts
which, like flowers, require a little sun, and
which will not flourish under a bleak sky. All
these young heads appeared to droop, oppressed
bv the storm, like the poplars in the garden
which bowed their tops at the will of the wind.
A tedious hour dragged
The lady of the castle,'a little disheartened by
the failure of her party of pleasure, leaned lan
guidly upon a window-sill, and gazed vaguely at
the prospect without.
“ There,” said she—■“ yonder, upon the hill, is
a white cottage that must come down; it kidfia
the view.”
m * •
NUMBER 15.
