Noisy, jabbering louts, the whole nest of you.
Poachers and assassins I said. Rifled Arms or more befitting of poachers and assassins, and this is true undoubtedly! Honest fighting is played through and finished quite handily without the jeering gimmick of twist bore double-handedness! Were the gallant boy-men of our impatient and self-loving era to take the time to learn the arts properly there would not be such an irksome din surrounding twist bores and their loathsome traits! A ball does NOT need to be spun to find proper placement! By the gods! Tell me now also that men kilt by crossbow are not dead? Heathens felled by the Land Service Musket have not true been dispatched to nestle forever in the blighted bosom of their dark gods?
Trained soldiers are well served by true-bore arms, as are right-minded hunters! A man who denies this has crossed too often the threshold of an opium den!
Ah, the Pennsylvania. So often dragged out and taken to be some form of proof pattern, unassailable due to its female aesthetic and mistold legend!
The bloody Pennsylvania...indeed...a fine arm...fine for collectors of futzy antiques who like to paw at items of interest while they read poetry to one another in their decorated studies! Fine for vagabonds to use to impress the town trollops with as they knock pots off fence posts instead of taking game!
The graceful Pennsylvania! Oh, dear me, such graceful lines and curves! Well, boyo! I'll show you a back alley har that has graceful lines an curves, but for hunting, I'll take something wif a proper bore!
Look now! The Pennsylvania! The damn Pennsylvania...weak of stock and lock! Slow to load and quick to foul! Finicky of both ball and patch! Delivering a dainty derringer ball that leaves deer maimed and fevered instead of quickly harvested. Furthermore, the tightness of the bore and the effects of rifling grip create a dreadful back pressure that causes touch holes to quickly burn out. This costs money! To have a touch hole re-sleeved! Never! A proper arm needs no pampering and adjustment.
In no way does the FELINE Pennsylvania allow the fitment of a bayonet. I would think that that alone would draw men to their senses! Sadly this isn't the case. So enamoured of small game and trickery, you forget the danger of bandits and raiders. Also, the nature of certain beasts who apon being missed or lightly wounded, will seek to immediately erase the distance separating you.
The Pennsylvania is fine for parlor tricks and wagers, poor for big game. An item master crafted for antique traders to faun over as their dim-eyed patrons hoist up great coin bags for just the right wall hanger. The Pennsylvania! A shameful distortion of the already questionable jaeger, an item that should have stayed in the old country to fester and gather dust along with its weak-souled inhabitants! If anyone ever shoots me with a snoty Pennsylvania, I'll wrap the pencil barrel around their heads before I take the time to kick some sense into them!
Keep your NASTY twist bores. Have ye a full collection of miss-cut walking sticks! Your flat-snouted, thin-wasted, fussy sub-calibre, problem-prone, high-maintenance tools of the easily impressed! So small of bore and quick to fail I imagine the Army will soon set them as standard!
Elitist! Elitist you say. I'll attribute this word choice to strong drink instead of perverse thought.
Taken seriously...I'm not one who stays awake in the wee hours hopin fans of dainty small-bore gallery guns take me seriously. I wish ye all the joy in Christendom, breaking your ram rod in your fast-fouled strangle-bored Pennsylvania.
True, I may fetch one myself! It will be a fine arm! Once I drill out the barrel to take a real ball, and set it in a stock strong enough for actual field use. Yes, and take it to the smithy to cut its shameful snout for a bayonet. I'm sure then it will be fine.