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 Lady Dashfort'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.