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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.