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.