Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 67, No. 416, June 1850

"Count Von der Mulde, I mean!" cried the bewildered servant. "Well," he added, seeing that none heeded his correction, "the murder is out; but it was better to tell his name than let him burn."

The murder was out, indeed. With much ado the scene was played to an end, and the curtain fell. Every one crowded round the singed and dripping Von der Mulde. The princess, instead of greeting in him the son of the reigning Prince of Schnapselzerhausen, her destined bridegroom, seemed bewildered and almost shocked at the discovery, and was carried fainting from the theatre. The prince was hurried away by his future father-in-law, whilst I, with my brain in a whirl, betook myself to my inn.

After a feverish and sleepless night, I fell at daybreak into a slumber, which lasted till late in the day. On getting out of bed, with the sun high in the sky, and before I was well awake, I began, almost unconsciously, to pack my portmanteau. The instinct was a true one; evidently I had now nothing to stay for in Klein-Fleckenberg. I rang for the waiter, and bade him secure me a place in that day's eilwagen. I was not yet dressed, when a servant brought me a letter and a small packet. I opened the former first. It was from the Countess Von P – , the wife of the marshal of the household. Its contents were as follows: —

"Rev. Mr Ehrmann – I thus address you because it is in that character we shall longest remember you. You are entitled to an explanation of certain circumstances and overtures concerning whose origin the appearance of his highness the Prince of Schnapselzerhausen will already have partly enlightened you.

"The description given us of the prince in the last letter of our confidential correspondent at his father's court – in which letter his musical skill and love of dramatic performances were particularly referred to – coincided, as did also the probable time of his arrival here, so closely with your appearance, that, when the real prince presented himself, under the assumed name of a Livonian gentleman, we were far from suspecting who he really was.

"I am commissioned to thank you, in the joint names of the Princess Theresa and her illustrious parents, for your excellent performance in yesterday's play. The princess, who is suffering from indisposition, brought on by the alarm of fire and subsequent surprise, requests your acceptance of the accompanying trinket as a slight token of her esteem."

The trinket was a gold ring, with the initial T. in brilliants. I pressed it to my lips, and I know not why I should be ashamed to confess that my eyes grew dim as I gazed upon it. I had had a vain but happy dream, and the moment of awakening was painful. An hour later I crossed for the last time the frontier of the pleasant little duchy.

The Gotha Almanack supplies the date of the marriage of the Princess Theresa of Klein-Fleckenberg with the son of the reigning Prince of Schnapselzerhausen. It also records a series of subsequent events which would induce many to believe in the conjugal felicity of the illustrious pair; – the birth, namely, of half a dozen little Schnapselzerhausens. That the second-born is christened Charles, may be ascribed by the world to caprice, accident, or a god-father: my vanity explains it otherwise.

THE QUAKER'S LAMENT

[The subject of the following poem will best be gathered from the entry in the notice-sheet of the House of Commons of 7th May last. We do not disguise our delight at finding that Mr Bright is about to take up the cause of protection in any portion of Her Majesty's dominions; and although his sympathies seem to have been awakened at a considerable distance from the metropolis, we are not without hope that the tide will set in, decidedly and strongly, towards the point where it is most especially needed. It is, at all events, refreshing to know that the Ryots of India have secured the services of so powerful and determined a champion, who has now ample leisure, owing to the general dulness of trade, to do every justice to their cause.

"Mr Bright, – That an humble Address be presented to her Majesty, praying her Majesty to appoint a commission to proceed to India, to inquire into the obstacles which prevent an increased growth of cotton in that country, and to report upon any circumstances which may injuriously affect the economical and industrial condition of the native population, being cultivators of the soil within the presidencies of Bombay and Madras. Tuesday 14th May."]

I

All the mills were closed in Rochdale,
Shut the heavy factory door;
Old and young had leave to wander,
There was work for them no more.
In the long deserted chambers
Idly stood the luckless loom,
Silent rose the ghastly chimney
Guiltless of its former fume.

II

Near a brook that leaped rejoicing,
Freed once more from filthy dye,
Dancing in the smokeless sunlight,
Babbling as it wandered bye —
Walked a middle-aged Free-trader,
Forwards, backwards, like a crab:
And his brow was clothed with sorrow,
And his nether-man with drab.

III

Chewing cud of bitter fancies,
Dreaming of the by-gone time,
Sauntered there the downcast Quaker
Till he heard the curfew chime.
Then a hollow laugh escaped him:
"Let the fellows have their will —
With a dwindling crop of cotton,
They may ask a Five-hours Bill!

IV

"Side by side I've stood with Cobden,
Roared with him for many a year,
And our only theme was cheapness,
And we swore that bread was dear;
And we made a proclamation
Touching larger pots of beer,
Till the people hoarsely answered
With a wild approving cheer.

V

"Did we not denounce the landlords
As a ravening locust crew?
Did we not revile the yeomen,
And the rough-shod peasants too?
Clodpoles, louts, and beasts of burden,
Asses, dolts, and senseless swine —
These were our familiar phrases
In the days of auld-langsyne.

VI

"And at length we gained the battle:
Oh, how proudly did I feel,
When the praise was all accorded
To my brother chief by Peel!
But I did not feel so proudly
At the settling of the fee —
Cobden got some sixty thousand —
Not a stiver came to me!

VII

"Well, they might have halved the money —
Yet I know not – and who cares?
After all, the free disposal
Of the gather'd fund was theirs:
And it is some consolation
In this posture of affairs,
To reflect that 'twas invested
In the shape of railway shares!