villagelightsmith
32 Cal
Just another New-to-the Forum, from an old family of ne'er-do-wells. Slaves, hookers and "shipping," in the old country. When piracy got too hot they took whatever boats were handy, sailed South, and got a cargo of slaves for the New World.
Once there, some settled to planting. One hadn't learned how to win friends nor influence people, so his highly disgruntled employees helped him stretch the hemp (as he undoubtedly deserved) The other brothers prospered until the end of the war. Having only the limited skills of piracy and slaving, they hung out their shingles as lawyers. Some persist in that awful trade even to this day. They're handy when you need 'em. (But I've got all the family guns.)
My first blackpowder was GGGGrampa's .69 Cal smoothbore he brought back from Mr Lincoln's war. Second issue ... he lost his first somewhere in Jawjuh. He was up a peach tree filling his shirt with good ripe fruit and somebody down below said "Gotcha now, Yank!" (Dan'm!) In camp that night he heard he was going to Andersonville, and not liking the sounds of that, he left the fire and his feet grew wings. He didn't get far before his toes got tangled in the dark. He landed face down beside a log, and in their haste, the first pursuers went over the top of him. He thought his luck might hold so he stayed put. T'wasn't long before he heard someone say "Let him go ... It's dark, it's cold, and he runs too fast." When he got back to his lines, Uncle Sam gave him another musket, an 1839 Springfield converted to the new Cap & Ball system. He made it back home. His Daddy & two brothers came back from the South and the family picked up fightin' with each other where they'd left off.
Not knowing if such as we might be acceptable in your august company, I've laid out the story as may be found to contain not one, but maybe two shreds of truth. I don't rightly know how many blackpowder guns I have. I could use a few more, but sometimes a fellow's just got to make do.
Once there, some settled to planting. One hadn't learned how to win friends nor influence people, so his highly disgruntled employees helped him stretch the hemp (as he undoubtedly deserved) The other brothers prospered until the end of the war. Having only the limited skills of piracy and slaving, they hung out their shingles as lawyers. Some persist in that awful trade even to this day. They're handy when you need 'em. (But I've got all the family guns.)
My first blackpowder was GGGGrampa's .69 Cal smoothbore he brought back from Mr Lincoln's war. Second issue ... he lost his first somewhere in Jawjuh. He was up a peach tree filling his shirt with good ripe fruit and somebody down below said "Gotcha now, Yank!" (Dan'm!) In camp that night he heard he was going to Andersonville, and not liking the sounds of that, he left the fire and his feet grew wings. He didn't get far before his toes got tangled in the dark. He landed face down beside a log, and in their haste, the first pursuers went over the top of him. He thought his luck might hold so he stayed put. T'wasn't long before he heard someone say "Let him go ... It's dark, it's cold, and he runs too fast." When he got back to his lines, Uncle Sam gave him another musket, an 1839 Springfield converted to the new Cap & Ball system. He made it back home. His Daddy & two brothers came back from the South and the family picked up fightin' with each other where they'd left off.
Not knowing if such as we might be acceptable in your august company, I've laid out the story as may be found to contain not one, but maybe two shreds of truth. I don't rightly know how many blackpowder guns I have. I could use a few more, but sometimes a fellow's just got to make do.
