Lord Colambre read one of the marked passages, beginning with, 'All that distinguishes a soldier in outward appearance from a citizen is so trifling--' but at this instant our hero's attention was distracted by seeing in a black-letter book this title of a chapter:
'Burial-place of the Nugents.'
'Pray now, sir,' said Captain Williamson, 'if I don't interrupt you, as you are such a famous fox-hunter, maybe, you may be a fisherman too; and now in Ireland do you, MR.--'
A smart pinch on his elbow from his major, who stood behind him, stopped the captain short, as he pronounced the word MR.Like all awkward people, he turned directly to ask, by his looks, what was the matter?
The major took advantage of his discomfiture, and, stepping before him, determined to have the fishing to himself, and went on with--'Count O'Halloran, I presume you understand fishing too, as well as hunting?'
The count bowed: 'I do not presume to say that, sir.'
'But pray, count, in this country, do you arm your hook this ways? Give me leave;' taking the whip from Williamson's reluctant hand, 'this ways, laying the outermost part of your feather this fashion next to your hook, and the point next to your shank, this wise, and that wise; and then, sir,--count, you take the hackle of a cock's neck----'
'A plover's topping's better,' said Williamson.
'And work your gold and silver thread,' pursued Benson, 'up to your wings, and when your head's made, you fasten all.'
'But you never showed how your head's made,' interrupted Williamson.
'The gentleman knows how a head's made; any man can make a head, I suppose; so, sir, you fasten all.'
'You'll never get your head fast on that way, while the world stands,' cried Williamson.
'Fast enough for all purposes; I'll bet you a rump and dozen, captain; and then, sir,--count, you divide your wings with a needle.'
'A pin's point will do,' said Williamson.
The count, to reconcile matters, produced from an Indian cabinet, which he had opened for the lady's inspection, a little basket containing a variety of artificial flies of curious construction, which, as he spread them on the table, made Williamson and Benson's eyes almost sparkle with delight.There was the DUN-FLY, for the month of March; and the STONE-FLY, much in vogue for April; and the RUDDY-FLY, of red wool, black silk, and red capon's feathers.
Lord Colambre, whose head was in the burial-place of the Nugents, wished them all at the bottom of the sea.
'And the GREEN-FLY, and the MOORISH-FLY!' cried Benson, snatching them up with transport; 'and, chief, the SAD-YELLOW-FLY, in which the fish delight in June; the SAD-YELLOW-FLY, made with the buzzard's wings, bound with black braked hemp, and the SHELL-FLY for the middle of July, made of greenish wool, wrapped about with the herle of a peacock's tail, famous for creating excellent sport.' All these and more were spread upon the table before the sportsmen's wondering eyes.
'Capital flies! capital, faith!' cried Williamson.
'Treasures, faith, real treasures, by G--!' cried Benson.
'Eh! 'pon honour! re'lly now,' were the first words which Heathcock had uttered since his battle with the goat.
'My dear Heathcock, are you alive still?' said Lady Dashfort; 'Ihad really forgotten your existence.'
So had Count O'Halloran, but he did not say so.
'Your ladyship has the advantage of me there,' said Heathcock, stretching himself; 'I wish I could forget my existence, for, in my mind, existence is a horrible BORE.'
'I thought you WAS a sportsman,' said Williamson.
'Well, sir?'
'And a fisherman?'
'Well, sir?'
'Why, look you there, sir,' pointing to the flies, 'and tell a body life's a bore.'
'One can't ALWAYS fish, or shoot, I apprehend, sir,' said Heathcock.
'Not always--but sometimes,' said Williamson, laughing; 'for Isuspect shrewdly you've forgot some of your sporting in Bond Street.'
'Eh! 'pon honour! re'lly now!' said the colonel, retreating again to his safe entrenchment of affectation, from which he never could venture without imminent danger.
''Pon honour,' cried Lady Dashfort, 'I can swear for Heathcock, that I have eaten excellent hares and ducks of his shooting, which, to my knowledge,' added she, in a loud whisper, 'he bought in the market.'
EMPTUM APRUM!' said Lord Colambre to the count, without danger of being understood by those whom it concerned.
The count smiled a second time; but politely turning the attention of the company from the unfortunate colonel by addressing himself to the laughing sportsmen, 'Gentlemen, you seem to value these,' said he, sweeping the artificial flies from the table into the little basket from which they had been taken;'would you do me the honour to accept of them? They are all of my own making, and consequently of Irish manufacture.' Then, ringing the bell, he asked Lady Dashfort's permission to have the basket put into her carriage.
