The Sun.
London, England, 1847-01-04 00:00:00

27,000 sittings. He thought that the ratepayers at
large ought to know that such a state of things existed,
and with that object he moved " That measures be taken
for a more extended circulation of the auditor's reports."
Mr. IL C. WiLsoN, in secoading the motion, thought
it ought to be followed up by something like the proposal
of a remedy. He thought the great fault was, that there
was not a selection made of popular preachers for the
churches, and he thought that was a subject the Crown,
who had the patronage, ought to attend to. Had the
vestry the patronage, they would take care to select such
gentlemen as would benefit the public at large.
The resolution was ultimately carried, and a committee
appointed to consider the matter. _

A resolution of condolence, by the vestry, to the Rev.
Dr. Spry, tho rector, on the loss of his lady, having been
adopted unanimously, the vestry separated.

THE FOREIGN SORCERESS AND

THE BRITISH MINISTERS.

At Paris, daring the early part of the year 1827, and
the autumn of 1828 and 1829, resided a lady whose pre-
tensions and performances caused no slight sensation
among the novelty-seeking coteries of that gay capital.
Madame do Strzelecki was a woman advanced in years,
plain in appearance, and grave in address. She spoke in
the tone and dictation of one who had been accustomed
to more in the higher grades of society ; but of her
descent, connexions, plans, and resources, no one seemed
able to glean the slightest information. She professed to
unveil the future ; and though her fee was gold, and
though she saw those only who waited upon her with a
formal introduction, from a previous client, the equipages
that were found loitering near her spacious dwelling in
Rue de is Paix chez la flarriere du Roule contained
half the beauty and haut ton of Paris. And yet
the information she gave was partial. It related to
two epochs only in the life of those who consulted
her—death and marriage. She would place before you
the lively scene and gay appendages of the one, and the
langour, gloom, and restlessness of the other. On
neither spectacle was it her custom to offer one single
syllable of remark. She left her visitant to draw his
own moral from the scene. Among the strangers in
Paris at that period were two Englishmen of great,
though opposite talent—both ambitious men—each ido-
lized by his respective party—each the sworn champion
of a certain set of opinions—both high in the favour of
the Sovereign whom they served, and aspiring to the
most enduring rewards wnich talent and energy could
win. They heard from fifty gay voices the fame of
Madame de Strzelecki; and as a mere whim of the
moment— an impromptu extravaganza—they resolved to
visit the mystic in disguise, and to test her pretensions.
They were described, in the note of introduction which
they presented, as " two American gentlemen, whose stay
in Paris must be, under any circumttances, short; whose
errand there was some commercial speculation, the issue
of which might recal them to Philadelphia at a few hours'
notice. They entreated, therefore, the favour of anim-
mediate audience." It was granted at once. She re-
ceived them, as was her wont, in silence. But upon the
first who entered her apartment (the younger, and by
far the most intellectual-looking of the two) she gazed
long and earnestly. " You are married, and have two
sons and a daughter ;" was the off-hand declaration with
which she met his
.bow " the scene of your nuptials,
therefore, you cannot well have forgotten ! That of
your demise is the spectacle which I presume you wish
to have brought before you ?" " You anticipate me,
madam," was the reply ; but such is, undoubtedly,
the object of my present visit.
" And you, Sir," said she, turning to his companion,
" are married, but childless. Do you wish to gaze
upon the closing scene of your busy life ?" " Per-
haps," added she, with more of interest and feeling
than she genervlly exhibited, " you will abandon your
intention ? Reconsider it." "By no means ; the ordeal
which is gaily courted by my companion I would also
brave." " Have you firmness and resolution ?" demanded
the lady ? " Have you nerve to gaze upon a very har-
rowing spectacle ?" " Without it, ought I to have come
hither?" "I am answered: follow me." She led the
way, as she spoke out of the apartment, and the English-
men followed her. They crossed a small, low passage;
passed through a narrow portal; a second, a third, and
then found themselves in a hall of very considerable ex-
tent. It was paved with black marble, and decorated at
each end with four slender pillars of the same material.
In fhe centre rose a very large jet-black basin, filled with
dark water to a considerable depth. A cupola, or lantern,
admitted a tempered light from above; and the deep
basin was so placed that whatever daylight the dome ad-
mitted fell upon it. But, despite of the noble propor-
tions of the hall, and the lightness of the pillars, and the
fairy tracery of the cupola, there was an air of gloom
over the whole apartment. It seemed a fitting scene
to communicate tidings of approaching sorrow; sepa-
ration, sickness, silence, death. " Look on this dark
water," said their conductrcss; " it shall speak to you
of the future. If death be at a distance, it will sink some
feet in every second that you gaze upon it. If your
parting hour approaches, it will rise rapidly ; and if the
very last sands in life's hour-glass be running ; will
mount till it be checked only by the margin. If it be
fated that death shall approach you in the guise of vio-
lence, the water shall instantly bubble up. If caused by
accident, it will change colour once, twice, fast as the
hues of the rainbow meet into each other and vanish,
even while you gaze on them. If death overtake you by
gradual decay, and in the common course of nature,
other than a gentle ripple over its surface, no change
will the still water know or tell. You understand me?"
" I do." " Fully?" " I conceive so." " Approach,
then. Gaze steadfastly on that dark surface, and it
shall mirror to thee, fully and faithfully, the future."
The calmer, and graver, and sadder of the two ad-
vanced slowly to the margin with a look of mingled
curiosity and incredulity, which sat strangely on his
heavy, massive, and somewhat passionless features. In
an instant the water rose at least two feet—changed
colour rapidly, and evidently more than once—
and then became dark and motionless as before.
"Ah I not far distant—and by accident!" The
mystic made no reply, but merely motioned him by
a gesture to gaze on. He did so, and as he looked he
beheld a mimic representation of a scene of great con-
fusion. Countless multitudes were assembled—there
was running to and fro—hersemen were riding in all
directions—the spectators were conversing eagerly with
each other—and deep dismay sat on many a countenance.
This faded from the surface, and there was presented to
him a small room in what appeared to be a road-side
inn. Three or more individuals it contained, to whose
persons he was a perfect
.stranger. But there was one
present whose features
him
—his
who
s
it deep and indescribable
distress.was calm,
v bute
r deart
Proppedhe r there
ow a s
w stamped1
la s
h% .•
et t
pictured
on
rl
eodw in
The the
eye
y f
eo r
we fore;;
was
wan-
dering a round,n.
was a figure which he instantly admitted to be his own.
feature bore the impress of in-
ITeevfia2r was overspread with that cold
dtßeeunrtsi
nehgoa wga
no
restless—every
grey tint which so surely foretells impending dissolution.
He looked at it steadily for a few seconds. A sort
of mist seemed to come over his vision. He withdrew
his gaze for an instant from. the fountain, and when he
again resumed his obse!•vaponth e painful scene had
wholly disappeared ! His inquiring look of astonish-
ment and emotion the.
mystic returned with apathy.
The agitation manifested in his countenance was
strangely contrasted by the fixed, rigid expression of
her's. His appeared a painful struggle with conflicting
feelings ; her countenance wore its usual air of cold and
impassive indifference. What ! it's past a joke ?" said
the younger of the two, advancing gaily towards the
fountain; " the answer of,the oracle is not palateable, eh?
Take your favourite poets
Quid sit futurum, eras

foge quxrere !

But now of me and to me what says the future 1" Tho
water rose a few inches and then became stationary.
On its surface
rfa
icni
dimensions—humble in its accommodation, antique
and elm
rniture, and altogether pretension-
less
uene nett appeared a small chamber, limited
in its
furniture,
in its comforts and appointments. Gardens
seemed to stretch around it of considerable extent ;
and on the mantel-piece ho remarked a small bronz,
x clvaiigmo eudr ,
o a
f s
life, his
evidently rested
clock of singular shape and construction. His atten-
tion, a
south, who was lidding the hand
t,h
oftthi a oen,isinicaektloeenrnsctoesn,,:became intently and painfully fixed.
" Charles, as I live!,, i
the full
exclaimed,
racked with bodily Agony. "The other figure I con
cieve to be that—that"--continued he, speaking slowly
and after a lengthened pause—" yes, that of Charles's
dying father! 'Tis a painful spectacle," added he,
turning from the fountain, " and I know not what
benefit is to be derived from a lengthened contem-
basirttatteirone.m—pli7asui
plation of it. Come, the day wears. We will leave
this clever, disagreeable, and certainly most puzzling ex-
hibition." He took his friend's arm as he spoke, and
advancedi to pay his parting devoirs to the mystic, and with
tiern, her fee. The first she returned coldly : the latter
she Peremptorily rejected. "I am already remunerated,
,amply remunerated ;" was her unexpected and startling
fsficpile,aneemted,hnoorniouthriaforlasmt eivoirfdl
choanvyeeyaedd
i i ered to the arnu ‘ t—tho passing amusement ;
declaration.—"
a meaning •
which those whom she addressed seemed to
r0rr,...."
feel and shrink f of two
servants of his Britannic•
Majesty as Mr. Huskisson and
Mr. Canning ! " Again, with exquisite mockery, she
more curtsied deeper and deferentially than before, and,
ere they could recover from their surprise, left them
Literary leaves .
from a Freemason's !Vote-book
D

,ARING ATTEMPT
Saturday inforraation was given to the police of the lowing daring daring attempt at robbery and murder. It ap-
peers that on Friday morning Mr. Shrimpton, harness
maker, of No. 64, Great Hill, left home for the purpose
residing adjacent to the
of paying his quarter's rent to Mr. Bryer, his landlord,
To Ron AND MURDER.-011
road. Prior to his going he entered a public-house and
had some lefreshme when he took out his purse and
told a friend whom hashad accidentally met, that he was
about to pay Mr. Bryer. There were two suspicious-
looking fellows present, who seemed to pay attention to
Brecknock Arms, St. Pancras-
what was going forward. After he had paid the rent he
was proceeding homewards, across Copenhagen-fields,
when two men came behind and inflicted a revere blow
on the head. and he fell nearly stunned. lie, however,
resisted with great courage, but ho was at length over-
powered and rendered insensible, and ho was found some
time afterwards weltering in his blood, with his pockets
turned inside out. After having been removed to a public-
house near the Model Prison, where ho was kindly
treated,
he was removed to his residence, where he re-
mains in a very weak state. Police constable Stone, 7,
the
the G divisioarn,nyd hhas received a pretty good description of
, I peg are entertained of their detection.
great deal was said at the time the French Government
g
FRENCH GOVERNMENT.—A
granted permission to Prince Polignac, ex-minister of
LrlunffiEaßnAsLoroTs uz
Charles X., to return to France, after many years' im-
prisonment and exile. It will scarcely be believed that
the Prince, who is allowed to sojourn at Saint Germain's,
a few miles from the French capital, is not allowed to
visit his son, who is at college in Paris, without especial
permission of the authorities.