t to town call upon you with an eager look and
covetous smile, as if to say, 'Ask us to dinner, we once invited you to
tea,' there is but one method to pursue; the cut--the firm, unwavering,
direct cut. Do not pretend not to see them, or to look fixedly in another
direction, but give them the vacant, absent stare, as if you saw around
them, and through them, and the image before you excited neither attention
nor recollection. There are no terms to be kept with them. Their
Shibboleth is not yours.

'In the 'Absentee,' a London fashionable lady, Mrs. DAZEVILLE, goes to
Ireland, and is hospitably received by Lady CLONBRONY, stays a month at
her country-house, and is as intimate with Lady CLONBRONY and her niece
Miss NUGENT, as possible; and yet when Lady CLONBRONY comes to London,
never takes the least notice of her. At length, meeting at the house of a
common friend, Mrs. DAZEVILLE cannot avoid recognizing her, but does it in
the least civil manner possible: 'Ah, Lady CLONBRONY! Did not know you
were in England! How long shall you stay in town? Hope before you leave
England you will give us a day.' Lady CLONBRONY is so astonished at this
ingratitude, that she remains silent; but Miss NUGENT answers quite
coolly, and with a smile: 'A day? certainly, to you who gave us a month.'
Miss EDGEWORTH evidently considers this a capital story; and we have no
doubt that many stupid people who have read it consider it an excellent
hit; but we can assure them that they know nothing of the woods and
fields. It is a great favor to make people in the country a visit. It
relieves them from the tiresome monotony of their rose-bushes and
chickens; and by the active exertions in planning breakfasts and dinners,
and making the one ride through the valley last for three afternoons,
infuses if possible a certain degree of mental activity into their lives,
which must be far from disagreeable to them. A cit too is in a certain
degree a lion. The oldest town-jokes are as new in the country as last
year's ribbons; and the neighbors gather together to view with delight a
face that they have not seen every Sunday for the last fifty-two weeks,
and are only too happy to engage the Novelty at a 'Tea.' But when they
come to town, what can you do with them? Who the devil wants to see them?
Your friends care little enough for you, still less for your agricultural
acquaintances. You cannot bring yourself to go to PEALE'S Museum, or to
see the talking-machine;