The younger shuddered a little
when he saw me, but the elder clapped his hands and exclaimed,
"That's good! We have got a musket now, and the English will find
out that we know how to use it!"
"Pray to God, my son," said his mother, "that we may never have to
use it."
The boy did not give much heed to what his mother said, but took me
up, examined me all over, and, after snapping my trigger two or
three times, pronounced me to be a real good musket, and placed me
again in the corner where his father had put me at first.
The next day, my master took me out to try me. I confess I was not
pleased at the first charge with which I was loaded. When I felt the
powder, ball, wadding and all, rammed down so hard, it was as
disagreeable to me as a boy's first hard lesson in grammar is to
him, and seemed to me as useless, for I did not then know what I was
made for, nor of what use all this stuffing could be. But when my
master pulled the trigger, and I heard the neighboring hills echo
and reecho with the sound, I began to feel that I was made for
something, and grew a little vain at the thought of the noise I
should make in the world.
I did not then know all I was created for; it seemed to me that it
was only to make a great noise. I soon learned better, and
understood the purpose of my being more perfectly.
A few days after this, the family was all astir some time before
sunrise. There was a solemn earnestness in their faces, even in the
youngest of them, that was very impressive.
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