Recreations of Christopher North, Volume 1Wilson, John
General
Recreations of Christopher North, Volume 1
Wilson, John
Essays
There had been from time immemorial, it was understood, in the Manse, a
duck-gun of very great length, and a musket that, according to an old
tradition, had been out both in the Fifteen and Forty-five. There were
ten boys of us, and we succeeded by rotation to gun or musket, each boy
retaining possession for a single day only; but then the shooting season
continued all the year. They must have been of admirable materials and
workmanship; for neither of them so much as once burst during the Seven
Years' War. The musket, who, we have often since thought, must surely
rather have been a blunderbuss in disguise, was a perfect devil for
kicking when she received her discharge; so much so, indeed, that it was
reckoned creditable for the smaller boys not to be knocked down by the
recoil. She had a very wide mouth--and was thought by us "an awfu'
scatterer;" a qualification which we considered of the very highest
merit. She carried anything we chose to put into her--there still being
of all her performances a loud and favourable report--balls, buttons,
chucky-stanes, slugs, or hail. She had but two faults--she had got
addicted, probably in early life, to one habit of burning priming, and
to another of hanging fire; habits of which it was impossible, for us
at least, to break her by the most assiduous hammering of many a new
series of flints; but such was the high place she justly occupied in the
affection and admiration of us all, that faults like these did not in
the least detract from her general character. Our delight, when she did
absolutely and positively and _bonâ fide_ "go off," was in proportion to
the comparative rarity of that occurrence; and as to hanging fire--why,
we used to let her take her own time, contriving to keep her at the
level as long as our strength sufficed, eyes shut perhaps, teeth
clenched, face girning, and head slightly averted over the right
shoulder, till Muckle-mou'd Meg, who, like most other Scottish females,
took things leisurely, went off at last with an explosion like the
blowing up of a rock.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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