Sketches of Young Couples | Page 6

Charles Dickens
at last,
the health of the godfather before-mentioned being drunk, the godfather
rose to return thanks, and in the course of his observations darkly
hinted at babies yet unborn, and even contemplated the possibility of
the subject of that festival having brothers and sisters, the formal lady
could endure no more, but, bowing slightly round, and sweeping
haughtily past the offender, left the room in tears, under the protection
of the formal gentleman.

THE LOVING COUPLE

There cannot be a better practical illustration of the wise saw and
ancient instance, that there may be too much of a good thing, than is
presented by a loving couple. Undoubtedly it is meet and proper that
two persons joined together in holy matrimony should be loving, and
unquestionably it is pleasant to know and see that they are so; but there

is a time for all things, and the couple who happen to be always in a
loving state before company, are well-nigh intolerable.
And in taking up this position we would have it distinctly understood
that we do not seek alone the sympathy of bachelors, in whose
objection to loving couples we recognise interested motives and
personal considerations. We grant that to that unfortunate class of
society there may be something very irritating, tantalising, and
provoking, in being compelled to witness those gentle endearments and
chaste interchanges which to loving couples are quite the ordinary
business of life. But while we recognise the natural character of the
prejudice to which these unhappy men are subject, we can neither
receive their biassed evidence, nor address ourself to their inflamed and
angered minds. Dispassionate experience is our only guide; and in
these moral essays we seek no less to reform hymeneal offenders than
to hold out a timely warning to all rising couples, and even to those
who have not yet set forth upon their pilgrimage towards the
matrimonial market.
Let all couples, present or to come, therefore profit by the example of
Mr. and Mrs. Leaver, themselves a loving couple in the first degree.
Mr. and Mrs. Leaver are pronounced by Mrs. Starling, a widow lady
who lost her husband when she was young, and lost herself about the
same-time--for by her own count she has never since grown five years
older--to be a perfect model of wedded felicity. 'You would suppose,'
says the romantic lady, 'that they were lovers only just now engaged.
Never was such happiness! They are so tender, so affectionate, so
attached to each other, so enamoured, that positively nothing can be
more charming!'
'Augusta, my soul,' says Mr. Leaver. 'Augustus, my life,' replies Mrs.
Leaver. 'Sing some little ballad, darling,' quoth Mr. Leaver. 'I couldn't,
indeed, dearest,' returns Mrs. Leaver. 'Do, my dove,' says Mr. Leaver. 'I
couldn't possibly, my love,' replies Mrs. Leaver; 'and it's very naughty
of you to ask me.' 'Naughty, darling!' cries Mr. Leaver. 'Yes, very
naughty, and very cruel,' returns Mrs. Leaver, 'for you know I have a
sore throat, and that to sing would give me great pain. You're a monster,

and I hate you. Go away!' Mrs. Leaver has said 'go away,' because Mr.
Leaver has tapped her under the chin: Mr. Leaver not doing as he is bid,
but on the contrary, sitting down beside her, Mrs. Leaver slaps Mr.
Leaver; and Mr. Leaver in return slaps Mrs. Leaver, and it being now
time for all persons present to look the other way, they look the other
way, and hear a still small sound as of kissing, at which Mrs. Starling is
thoroughly enraptured, and whispers her neighbour that if all married
couples were like that, what a heaven this earth would be!
The loving couple are at home when this occurs, and maybe only three
or four friends are present, but, unaccustomed to reserve upon this
interesting point, they are pretty much the same abroad. Indeed upon
some occasions, such as a pic-nic or a water-party, their lovingness is
even more developed, as we had an opportunity last summer of
observing in person.
There was a great water-party made up to go to Twickenham and dine,
and afterwards dance in an empty villa by the river-side, hired
expressly for the purpose. Mr. and Mrs. Leaver were of the company;
and it was our fortune to have a seat in the same boat, which was an
eight-oared galley, manned by amateurs, with a blue striped awning of
the same pattern as their Guernsey shirts, and a dingy red flag of the
same shade as the whiskers of the stroke oar. A coxswain being
appointed, and all other matters adjusted, the eight gentlemen threw
themselves into strong paroxysms, and pulled up with the tide,
stimulated by the compassionate remarks of the ladies, who one and all
exclaimed, that it seemed
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