[Illustration: A]"After the ceremony, the happy pair set off for
Brighton."
There is something peculiarly pleasing in the above paragraph. The
imagination instantly conjures up an elegant yellow-bodied chariot, lined
with pearl drab, and a sandwich basket. In one corner sits a fair and
blushing creature partially arrayed in the garments of a bride, their
spotless character diversified with some few articles of a darker hue,
resembling, in fact, the liquid matrimony of port and sherry; her delicate
hands have been denuded of their gloves, exhibiting to the world the
glittering emblem of her endless hopes. In the other, a smiling piece of
four-and-twenty humanity is reclining, gazing upon the beautiful treasure,
which has that morning cost him about six pounds five shillings, in the
shape of licence and fees. He too has deprived himself of the sunniest
portions of his wardrobe, and has softened the glare of his white ducks,
and the gloss of his blue coat, by the application of a drab waistcoat.
But why indulge in speculative dreams when we have realities to detail!
Agamemnon Collumpsion Applebite and his beauteous Juliana Theresa (late
Waddledot), for three days, experienced that--
"Love is heaven, and heaven is love."
His imaginary dinner-party became a reality, and the delicate attentions
which he paid to his invisible guest rendered his Juliana Theresa's
life--as she exquisitely expressed it--
"A something without a name, but to which nothing was wanting."
But even honey will cloy; and that sweetest of all moons, the Apian one,
would sometimes be better for a change. Juliana passed the greater portion
of the day on the sofa, in the companionship of that aromatic author, Sir
Edward; or sauntered (listlessly hanging on Collumpsion's arm) up and down
the Steine, or the no less diversified Chain-pier. Agamemnon felt that at
home at least he ought to be happy, and, therefore, he hung his legs over
the balcony and whistled or warbled (he had a remarkably fine D) Moore's
ballad of--
"Believe me, if all those endearing young charms;"
or took the silver out of the left-hand pocket of his trousers, and placed
it in the right-hand receptacle of the same garment. Nevertheless, he was
continually detecting himself yawning or dozing, as though "the idol of
his existence" was a chimera, and not Mrs. Applebite.
The time at length arrived for their return to town, and, to judge from
the pleasure depicted in the countenances of the happy pair, the
contemplated intrusion of the world on their family circle was anything
but disagreeable. Old John, under the able generalship of Mrs. Waddledot,
had made every requisite preparation for their reception. Enamelled cards,
superscribed with the names of Mr. and Mrs. Applebite, and united together
with a silver cord tied in a true lover's knot, had been duly enclosed in
an envelope of lace-work, secured with a silver dove, flying away with a
square piece of silver toast. In company with a very unsatisfactory bit of
exceedingly rich cake, this glossy missive was despatched to the whole of
the Applebite and Waddledot connexion, only excepting the eighteen
daughters who Mrs. Waddledot had reason to believe would not return her
visit.
The meeting of the young wife and the wife's mother was touching in the
extreme. They rushed into each other's arms, and indulged in plentiful
showers of "nature's dew."
"Welcome! welcome _home_, my dear Juliana!" exclaimed the doting mother.
"It's the first time, Mr. A., that she ever left me since she was 16, for
so long a period. I have had all the beds aired, and all the chairs
uncovered. She'll be a treasure to you, Mr. A., for a more tractable
creature was never vaccinated;" and here the mother overcame the orator,
and she wept again.
"My dear mother," said Agamemnon, "I have already had many reasons to be
grateful for my happy fortune. Don't you think she is browner than when we
left town?"
"Much, much!" sobbed the mother; "but the change is for the better."
"I'm glad you think so, for Aggy is of the same opinion," lisped the
beautiful ex-Waddledot. "Tell ma' the pretty metaphor you indulged in
yesterday, Aggy."
"Why, I merely remarked," replied Collumpsion, blushing, "that I was
pleased to see the horticultural beauties of her cheek superseded by such
an exquisite marine painting. It's nothing of itself, but Juley's foolish
fondness called it witty."
The arrival of the single sister of Mrs. Applebite, occasioned another
rush of bodies and several gushes of tears; then titterings succeeded, and
then a simultaneous burst of laughter, and a rapid exit. Agamemnon looked
round that room which he had furnished in his bachelorhood. A thousand old
associations sprung up in his mind, and a vague feeling of anticipated
evil for a moment oppressed him. The _bijouterie_ seemed to reproach him
with unkindness for having placed a mistress over them, and the easy chair
heaved as though with suppressed emotion, at the thought that its
luxurious proportions had lost their charms. Collumpsion held a mental
toss-up whether he repented of the change in his condition; and, as
faithful historians, we are compelled to state that it was only the
entrance, at that particular moment, of Juliana, that induced him to
cry--woman.
On the following day the knocker of No. 24 disturbed all the other
numerals in Pleasant-terrace; and Mr. and Mrs. A. bowed and curtsied until
they were tired, in acknowledgment of their friends' "wishes of joy," and,
as one unlucky old gentleman expressed himself, "many happy returns of the
day."
It was a matter of surprise to many of the said friends, that so great an
alteration as was perceptible in the happy pair, should have occurred in
such a very short space of time.
"I used to think Mr. Applebite a very nice young man," said _Miss_--mind,
Miss Scragbury--"but, dear me, how he's altered."
"And Mrs. Applebite used to be a pretty girl," rejoined her brother
Julius; "but now (Juliana had refused him three times)--but now she's as
ill-looking as her mother."
"I'd no idea this house was so small," said Mrs. Scragmore. "I'm afraid
the Waddledots haven't made so great a catch, after all. I hope poor Juley
will be happy, for I nursed her when a baby, but I never saw such an ugly
pattern for a stair-carpet in my born days;" and with these favourable
impressions of their dear friends the Applebites, the Scragmores descended
the steps of No. 24, Pleasant-terrace, and then ascended those of No. 5436
hackney-coach.
About ten months after their union, Collumpsion was observed to have a
more jaunty step and smiling countenance, which--as his matrimonial
felicity had been so frequently pronounced perfect--puzzled his friends
amazingly. Indeed, some were led to conjecture, that his love for Juliana
Theresa was not of the positive character that he asserted it to be; for
when any inquiries were made after her health, his answer had invariably
been, of late, "Why, Mrs. A.--is--not very well;" and a smile would play
about his mouth, as though he had a delightful vision of a widower-hood.
The mystery was at length solved, by the exhibition of sundry articles of
a Lilliputian wardrobe, followed by an announcement in the _Morning Post_,
under the head of
"BIRTHS.--Yesterday morning, the lady of Agamemnon Collumpsion
Applebite, Esq., of a son and heir."
Pleasant-terrace was _strawed_ from one end to the other; the knocker of
24 was encased in white kid, a doctor's boy was observed to call three
times a-day, and a pot-boy twice as often.
Collumpsion was in a seventh heaven of wedded bliss. He shook hands with
everybody--thanked everybody--invited everybody when Mrs. A. should be
better, and noted down in his pocket-book what everybody prescribed as
infallible remedies for the measles, hooping-cough, small-pox, and rashes
(both nettle and tooth)--listened for hours to the praises of vaccination
and Indian-rubber rings--pronounced Goding's porter a real blessing to
mothers, and inquired the price of boys' suits and rocking-horses!
In this state of paternal felicity we must leave him till our next.
* * * * *