There was an alley by the Molendinar Burn, close to the archery butts, where he would let me practise at a mark with guns from his store.

Soon to my delight I found that here was a weapon with which I need fear few rivals.

I had a natural genius for the thing, as some men have for sword-play, and Weir was a zealous teacher, for he loved his flint-locks.
"See, Andrew," he would cry, "this is the true leveller of mankind.

It will make the man his master's equal, for though your gentleman may cock on a horse and wave his Andrew Ferrara, this will bring him off it.

Brains, my lad, will tell in coming days, for it takes a head to shoot well, though any flesher may swing a sword." The better marksman I grew the less I liked the common make of guns, and I cast about to work an improvement.