“Heavy shot will make a gun recoil painfully; but if the shot is light the charge of powder may be large without producing unpleasant effects; the shot will be driven quick and strong, and the bird deprived of life instantaneously. Perhaps the pellets are not driven through the body, but the blow is severer and the shock is more stunning. I use one ounce of shot and three drachms of powder, and would prefer to increase rather than diminish the powder. It is a mistake to suppose powder does not burn because black particles fall to the ground if it is fired over snow or white paper; these, I take it, are flakes of charcoal and not powder, and some will fall, no matter how light may be the load.” “For my part,” persisted the unlucky man, “I think the crippling of birds arises from our inability to judge distances, and from our firing at birds out of reasonable range. The patent breech was meant to remedy the necessity for such heavy charges of powder as are used in the old-fashioned flint-locks. Johnston, the author of an admirable treatise on shooting, which is now out of print, is my authority, and he says that an over-charge of powder makes a gun scatter prodigiously without adding proportionately to the force.” “That depends upon the character of the bore,” answered the Secretary; “if it is relieved at the breech, and after narrowing above, made a perfect cylinder towards the muzzle, the more the powder the better it will shoot.” Seeing that an interminable discussion was about to open, branching off, in all likelihood, into the comparative qualities of powder and manufacturers of guns, the President interposed. “This is a dry, serious, and solemn conversation, and as every member has already made up his mind on the subject, not very improving; who will volunteer to tell a story or sing a song?” “My friend here,” replied the unlucky, pointing to the lucky, man, “once intimated to me that his first day’s duck-shooting was the best and pleasantest he ever had, but would never give me the satisfaction of the particulars.” “The story, the story, let us have the story!” burst forth the chorus, with delight. “I will tell it on one condition,” responded the party addressed: “that the gentleman who suggested it shall give a true account of his first day’s trout-fishing.” All hands shouted with delight at the prospect of two stories, scenting a joke in the suggestion, but the unlucky man replied, pitifully, “I will if I must, but there are more agreeable episodes in my existence.” “Never mind that; if I confess, so must you. “Many years ago, gentlemen, myself and a friend had driven down on Long Island for a few days at the ducks. He was an old sportsman, and promised to initiate me, who had acquired considerable facility with my gun, but had never yet been in a battery on the bay.