"Pray now, sir," said Captain Williamson, "if I don't interrupt you,
as you are a fisherman too; 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