XXIV 
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MY FIRST RIFLE. 
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When about 11 years of age, my cousin, 
who was about the same age, put it into 
my head to ask my father to buy a gun, his 
father promising him one providing my 
father should agree to get me one. My 
uncle no doubt imagined the matter would 
end there. 
The mere mention of gun was sufficient 
to arouse my ambition to own one, as that 
had long been my fondest dream; so I im- 
mediately set to work, on the ground that 
my cousin was going to have a gun and 
that I was as good a boy as he was. | 
argued that by getting 2 guns together we 
could get a discount on them. 
After several days of coaxing and good 
behavior, my father gave me $6.40, which 
was the price of a 22 caliber rifle and 1,000 
cartridges. 
I held my breath for joy. I pinched my- 
self to see if I was awake, for it seemed too 
good to be true. 
I lost no time in rushing over to my cou- 
sin’s house, which was 2% miles across 
farms, to deposit the money with him, as 
they were to send for the rifles. Between 
gasps I stated my errand. Then my cousin 
pinched himself to see if he was awake. I 
produced the cash, carefully knotted in one 
corner of my handkerchief. This was con- 
vincing, and without saying another word 
we both struck out at top speed to a large 
tree by the roadside, fell in the shade, rolled 
over, laughed and kicked each other. 
After our spasms were over, we began to 
speculate on how long it would take the 
guns to come. We thought that if we could 
get the money off that night we would 
surely get the guns early Monday morning. 
But the money did not go until Saturday. 
We watched the clock and counted the 
days 2 whole weeks, and never in my life 
did school days seem so long. 
On Tuesday morning over 2 weeks after 
the guns were ordered, my parents sent me 
to town to my grandmother’s on an er- 
rand. She imparted the joyful news that 
my uncle had been in the evening before, 
had taken the guns out, and that my cousin 
would bring my gun over the following 
Saturday. 
I wanted to take a day off and see the 
guns, but was told that it would not be 
long until Saturday. This did not seem to 
shorten the days. Every night I went to 
bed early, that I might pass as much of my 
time in sleep as possible. 
Finally Saturday morning arrived, cold 
and clear. After doing my morning chores 
about the farm, my thoughts not being en- 
tirely on my work, I stationed myself where 
I could command a good view of the road. 
I had not long to wait, for I soon saw 
the 2 boys coming. That was enough. I 
climbed down from my perch and started 
across the orchard. On seeing me they 
gave a wild yell, and I returned the 
salute ‘without stopping. I could sée 
the bright barrels and the varnished stocks 
"RECREATION. ee 

flash in the sunlight, and oh! what a sight 
it was! Over 20 years have passed since 
then, but I can never forget that brilliant 
spectacle. 
Another moment and I was reaching for 
the nearest gun. What a beautiful piece of 
workmanship it was! Nickel-plated mount- 
ings, octagon barrel, just the right size and 
a breech loader. 
My cousin promptly told me which one 
he would like to have, but added that I 
might have my choice, as he had sent in 
the order. I granted him choice, as both 
guns to me seemed immaculate. 
The next thing to be done was to shoot 
at something. A cartridge was promptly 
placed in the breech and almost as quickly 
fired at the well curb less than 20 feet away. 
In my excitement I almost missed it; but 
this did not discourage me. I loaded and 
fired again, with better success, placing a 
ball within 2 inches of my first. If a grizzly 
had appeared at that moment he would 
have received 2 balls from our deadly 
weapons. . 
After shooting all day at real and imag- 
inary animals, some of the latter the largest 
that had ever been seen in those parts, my 
cousins returned home and I cleaned my 
gun, oiled it, rubbing some of the browning 
off the barrel in my effort, and put the gun 
in a corner near to my bed where I could 
reach out in the night and get it should 
burglars enter the house. I awoke several 
times that night and reached for the gun, 
although no burglars were in sight or hear- 
ing. I carefully took aim where one might 
have been standing and pulled the trigger. 
The next day being Sunday. I took an 
inventory of stock, and found that I had 
shot away 120 cartridges. 
Although I have owned a dozen guns 
since, some of which were high priced ones, 
none ever gave me the delight and the sat- 
isfaction I had in the possession of my first 
little 22 rifle. 

Pretend to love your enemies. There’s 
more money in it than in showing them 
your hatred. If you rob a man of his coat 
try to get his cloak also. 
If your right eye offend you, go to a 
specialist. 
Don’t let your right hand know what 
your left hand is doing. There is no use 
in being too much ashamed of yourself. 
Take no thought for to-morrow. Look 
out for the day after to-morrow, and to- 
morrow will take care of itself. 
Consider not your raiment. Pay your 
dressmaker or your tailor enough so you 
will not have tow 

Amateur—This is my latest attempt at a 
landscape. What do you think of the per- 
spective? 
Artist—The perspective is its strong 
point. The farther away you stand the bet- 
ter it looks ——Chicago Tribune. 
