This gun was almost, but not quite so long as the other. That dated from
the time between Stuart and Hanover; this might not have been more than
seventy years old. And a beautiful piece of workmanship it was: my new
double breechloader is a coarse common thing to compare with it. Long
and slender and light as a feather, it came to the shoulder with
wonderful ease. Then there was a groove on the barrel at the breech and
for some inches up which caught the eye and guided the glance like a
trough to the sight at the muzzle and thence to the bird. The stock was
shod with brass, and the trigger-guard was of brass, with a kind of
flange stretching half-way down to the butt and inserted in the wood.
After a few minutes' polishing it shone like gold, and to see the
sunlight flash on it was a joy.
You might note the grain of the barrel, for it had not been browned; and
it took a good deal of sand to get the rust off. By aid of a little oil
and careful wiping after a shower it was easy to keep it bright. Those
browned barrels only encourage idleness. The lock was a trifle dull at
first, simply from lack of use. A small screwdriver soon had it to
pieces, and it speedily clicked again sweet as a flute. If the hammer
came back rather far when at full-cock, that was because the lock had
been converted from a flint, and you could not expect it to be
absolutely perfect.
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