Maybe this doesn't strictly follow the original question, but when I was a lad of 7 or 8 (I'm nearing 62 now) my Uncle Jake had a 10 ga. double-barrel that he had got from his old man. Jake was probably about 60 at the time, so the gun was pre-1900 and could have gone all the way back to the mid-1800's. It was an old black powder unit but used store-bought cartidges(I didn't know or care about such stuff at that age, just that it might go bang). But my cousin Keith had been pestering Jake to let him shoot it, and Jake finally gave in. There, out in the north 40, Jake instructed Keith on how to hold the gun just so. Keith was nearly 10 at the time, so he was allowed to do things that I wasn't allowed to do. Keith followed Jake's advice to the letter, pointed the big gun skyward, and pulled the right trigger. Both Keith and the gun spun around several times, and they both hit the dirt side-by-side. Keith was crying and holding his shoulder. The gun just lay there quietly, smoking, content that it had taught a lesson. I wanted to laugh, but I was afraid Jake might make me shoot the thing too, so I kept my trap shut. That experience killed my interest in firearms for the rest of that afternoon. But, it taught me a good lesson. I never asked Uncle Jake to let me shoot any of his guns. But I did ask my other uncle, Uncle Jack, if I could shoot his .22. I got to when I turned 9. Nearly 50-years later when Uncle Jack passed away at 93, he left me that old .22. I still have it and I treasure it for being the first gun I ever shot, and for all the memories it carries with it.