Nebraska advertiser., 1881-12-15
THE VICTIM OF A VIRTUE.

| am one of those persons, envied for
three months in the year and pitied for
nine, who "live little way" out of
London. In the summer our residence
is a charming one; the garden especial
ly is delightful and attracts troops of
London friends. They are not only al
ways willing to dine with us, but drop
in of their own motion and stay for the
last train to town. The vague obser-
walton "any fine day." OF the more
evasve phrase "some fine day. used
in complimentary invitations, are then
very dangerous for us to employ, for
we are taken at our word, Just as
though we meant il. This would be
very gratifying, however expensive, if
it only happened all the year round.
But from October to June nobody comes
near us.
In reply to our modest invitations we
then receive such expressions of tender
regret as would convince the most
sceptical: "a previous engagement"
'indisposition of our youngest born"
1.-THE horses i'll" some catastrophe or
other, always prevents our friends from
enjoying another evening with us 'like
that charming one they spent last
july" They hope, however, to be
given the same happy chance again,
''when the weather is little less in
clement" by which they mean next
summer. AS for coming to dine with
us in winter, they will see us further
firstly which they mean nearer first
Sometimes at their own boards we
hear this stated, though of course with
out any intentional application. Some
Il n IN nf
dinners: at is most extraordinary how
people who live half dozen miles out
of town will attempt to ignore the sea-
sons and expect you to 90 and dine with
them just rs ii it was August, through
four feet of snow. 1t does really seem
AS Jones, our excellent host, was say
ing the other day-the very height of
personal conceit."
AS we have occupied our present res
idence for some years, we have long
had the conceit taken out of us; but we
have still our feelings. Our social toes
are not absolutely frost. bitten, and
when thus trodden upon we are aware
of the circumstances. 1t grieves us to
know what Jones has thought (and
said) of us, and my wife drops a quiet
tear or two during our drive home in
the brougham. am bound to confess
it is rather a long ride. find myself
dropping asleep before we have left
brick and mortar behind us, and as we
cross the great common near our home
l feel Il considerable change in the tenn
perature. 1t is a beautiful breezy spot,
with lovely view in summer time; the
playground OF the butterfly and the
place of business of thebee; but in win
ter it is cold and lonely enough.
In the daytime there is nobody there
at all. In the evening, at Uncertain in
tervals, there is the patrol. In old
times it used to be favorite haunt of
the Knights of the Road; during whose
epoch, by the by, l should fancy that those
who lived in the locality found it even
more difficult to collect their friends
around them than now. 1t has still a
bad name for tramps and vagabonds,
which makes my wife a little nervous
when the days begin to ''draw i'm and
our visitors to draw Off She insists
upon my going over the house before
retiring to rest every night and making
report of "Alp SWELL Being myself
not much over five feet high in my
boots, and sderably less in my slip
pers lin which am won't to make these
peregrinations), it has often suggested
itself to my mind that it would be more
judicious to leave the burglars to do
their worst, as regards the plate and
things, and not risk what is Ito me-
much more valuable. OF course could
'hold the lives of half dozen men in
my hand'--a quotation from my favor
tie authority merely arming myself
with loaded revolver; but the simple