I spent a month with Dr and Mrs Ormiston at their vicarage in the country, before the former entered upon his official residence as Principal; and can assure the reader that, in spite of ten--it may be more--years of difference in age, they are the happiest couple I ever saw. I may almost say, the only happy couple I ever saw, most of my married acquaintance appearing at the best only _contented_ couples, not drawing their happiness so exclusively from each other as suits my notion of what such a tie ought to be. Of course, I do not take my own matrimonial experience into account; the same principle of justice which forbids a man to give evidence in his own favour, humanely excusing him from making any admission which may criminate himself. Mrs Ormiston is as beautiful, as amiable, as ever, and has lost all the reserve and sadness which, in her maiden days, overshadowed her charms; and so sincere was and is my admiration of her person and character, and so warmly was I in the habit of expressing it, that I really believe my dilating upon her attractions used to make Mrs. Francis Hawthorne somewhat jealous, until she had the happiness to make her acquaintance, and settled the point by falling in love with the lady herself.
Mr Bubb was a Whig orator, also a Soap Laborator, For everything's new christen'd in the present day; He was follow'd and adored by the Common Council board, And lived quite genteel with a one-horse chay.
Mrs Bubb was gay and free, fair, fat, and forty-three, And blooming as a peony in buxom May; The toast she long had been of Farringdon-Within, And fill'd the better-half of the one-horse chay.
Mrs Bubb said to her Lord, "You can well, Bubb, afford Whate'er a Common Council man in prudence may; We've no brats to plague our lives, and the soap concern it thrives, So let's have a trip to Brighton in the one-horse chay.
"We'll view the pier and shipping, and enjoy many dipping, And walk for a stomach in our best array; I longs more nor I can utter, for shrimps and bread and butter, And an airing on the Steyne in the one-horse chay.
"We've a right to spare for nought that for money can be bought, So to get matters ready, Bubb, do you trudge away; To my dear Lord Mayor I'll walk, just to get a bit of talk And an imitation shawl for the one-horse chay."