1 1 8 WILDFO WL SHOOTING IN THE WESTERN STA TES. 



to the test, for the reason that I never took a gallon 

 of it at a sitting. The tobacco was also very choice, 

 and we smoked it out of the best of all pipes, those 

 made from corn cobs, a custom my entertainer had 

 introduced from " ole Virginie." 



Never was, or could there be, a more delightful 

 night ; the mosquitoes had taken their departure 

 some time back, so the only sounds that broke the 

 solemn stillness were the honest, deep-mouthed 

 bark of a neighbour's watchdog, or the bass "hoot, 

 hoot" of the large-eared owl that had his home in 

 the upper tendrils of a wild vine that abundantly 

 enveloped from root to top a grand button-wood tree. 

 The temperature about 8 p.m. could not have been 

 many degrees below seventy, thus all things tended 

 to present comfort ; in fact, in the language of that 

 recherche place of resort designated " the Bowery," 

 it might be said that " everything was lovely,'* etc. 



My host, with sweet affection and by the help of a 

 lamp, was rubbing an oil-rag up and down the barrels 

 of his well-tried and highly valued double ten, made 

 by Abbey, of Chicago. On his face was a pleasant 

 satisfied smile that told with emphasis how he revered 

 that good and trusted weapon. Looking across the 

 table at me, he said, inquiringly, " Do you mean to 

 tell me that either of that pair of ' razeed' breech- 

 loaders of yours will kill a duck or a goose ; or, for 

 that part, perhaps a swan, as far as my thirty-six 

 inch barrels will ? Why, man, it is contrary to 

 common sense. 



" I don't see that ; your argument would be, the 

 longer the barrels are, the further they will kill. 

 Why, man, you had better have a gun made that you 

 require to get on the table to load." 



" No, no, that's darned nonsense ; there's a margin 

 in all things." 



" Exactly/' I quickly responded ; " that is what I 

 say, and what I am prepared to prove, and that 



