Part 15 (2/2)

'Pray now, sir?' said the major, 'you fox-hunt in this country, I suppose; and now do you manage the thing here as we do? Over night, you know, before the hunt, when the fox is out, stopping up the earths of the cover we mean to draw, and all the rest for four miles round. Next morning we a.s.semble at the cover's side, and the huntsman throws in the hounds. The gossip here is no small part of the entertainment; but as soon as we hear the hounds give tongue--'

'The favourite hounds,' interposed Williamson.

'The favourite hounds, to be sure,' continued Benson; 'there is a dead silence, till pug is well out of cover, and the whole pack well in; then cheer the hounds with tally-ho! till your lungs crack. Away he goes in gallant style, and the whole field is hard up, till pug takes a stiff country; then they who haven't pluck lag, see no more of him, and, with a fine blazing scent, there are but few of us in at the death.'

'Well, we are fairly in at the death, I hope,' said Lady Dashfort; 'I was thrown out sadly at one time in the chace.'

Lord Colambre, with the count's permission, took up a book in which the count's pencil lay, PASLEY ON THE MILITARY POLICY OF GREAT BRITAIN; it was marked with many notes of admiration, and with hands pointing to remarkable pa.s.sages.

'That is a book that leaves a strong impression on the mind,' said the count.

Lord Colambre read one of the marked pa.s.sages, 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 t.i.tle 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 p.r.o.nounced 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 fis.h.i.+ng to himself, and went on with--

'Count O'Halloran, I presume you understand fis.h.i.+ng 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 fas.h.i.+on 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 c.o.c.k'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, s.n.a.t.c.hing 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 Sh.e.l.l-FLY for the middle of July, made of greenish wool, wrapped about with the herle of a peac.o.c.k'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.

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