FLIES AND FLY-DRESSING 215 



polished surface, stands an ancient wooden 



praying-bowl my wife once found in 



Brittany, full now, aglow with coloured 



sea-shells, the kind that children find 



along the shore, golden and rose, pale 



daffodil and pearl — all tiny, and each one 



smaller than the last. Above are shelves 



for background, long lines of well-loved 



books : Walton and Halford, Bickerdyke 



and Grey, with my reprint of Dame 



Juliana, her " Treaty se of Fysshynge wyth 



an Angle." Ah ! there's Montaigne, 



bound in a faded blue ; and here is old 



Voltaire, in gold and black, nudging a 



paper Thais of saffron hue. My cabinet 



is still in candlelight, but now its polished 



sides shine comfortably. We turn the 



key. Its date is — but no matter. Two 



long low doors swing open with a scent of 



aromatic wood. A triple nest of drawers, 



each with its small and quaint cut ivory 



handles. The first is just a narrow tray, 



cork-lined, cream-papered, housing the 



very young. The family of Gnats, the 



Smuts, the Tupps', the lesser Quills, a 



Silver Sedge, and here the Jenny Spinners. 



The lower drawer is deeper, wherein are 



