a fizzy, extraneous utterance.

"Why," said Violet, "would you kindly inform us, do you reside in bottles;
and, if in bottles at all, why not, rather, in green or purple, or, indeed,
in yellow bottles?"

To which questions a very aged Blue-Bottle-Fly answered, "We found the
bottles here all ready to live in; that is to say, our great-great-great-
great-great-grandfathers did: so we occupied them at once. And, when the
winter comes on, we turn the bottles upside down, and consequently rarely
feel the cold at all; and you know very well that this could not be the
case with bottles of any other color than blue."

"Of course it could not," said Slingsby. "But, if we may take the liberty
of inquiring, on what do you chiefly subsist?"

"Mainly on oyster-patties," said the Blue-Bottle-Fly; "and, when these are
scarce, on raspberry vinegar and Russian leather boiled down to a jelly."

"How delicious!" said Guy.

To which Lionel added, "Huzz!" And all the Blue-Bottle-Flies said, "Buzz!"

At this time, an elderly Fly said it was the hour for the evening-song to
be sung; and, on a signal being given, all the Blue-Bottle-Flies began to
buzz at once in a sumptuous and sonorous manner, the melodious and
mucilaginous sounds echoing all over the waters, and resounding across the
tumultuous tops of the transitory titmice upon the intervening and verdant
mountains with a serene and sickly suavity only known to the truly
virtuous. The Moon was shining slobaciously from the star-bespangled sky,