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The
Below Comments Relate to this Newslink:
An Ode to the Lever-Action Rifle
Submitted by:
David Williamson
Website: http://keepandbeararms.com
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My fifteenth birthday was one I’ll always remember. Though my parents had divorced a year or so prior, they were both present at the family get-together, and that alone was enough for me. I lived with Mom, but worked for Dad, so I got plenty of time with both of them, but it was nice to have them both at my birthday. The birthday gifts were always appreciated, but when Ol’ Grumpy Pants handed me a long, thin cardboard box—wrapped in the hasty and nonplussed fashion that most men wrap with—my eyebrows involuntarily raised.
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| Comment by:
MarkHamTownsend
(8/3/2016)
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I love lever action rifles My first rifle was an 1894AE Winchester in .30-30. I now have a 1892 in .32-20, a repro 1873 saddlery g carbine in .44-40, a Browning 92 in .44 magnum, a Winchester 9422 in .22rf, and a repro of the 1883 Colt Burgess in .44-40, an unusual but very nice carbine.
They were sorta the "assault rifle" of the 19th century.
Today we have the "evil black rifle" that our modern policritters hate.
I have a few of those as well, just so as those policritters don't get to well pleased with me. ;) |
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| QUOTES
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| After having thus successively taken each member of the community in its powerful grasp and fashioned him at will, the supreme power then extends its arm over the whole community. It covers the surface of society with a network of small, complicated rules, minute and uniform, through which the most original minds and the most energetic characters cannot penetrate, to rise above the crowd. The will of man is not shattered, but softened, bent, and guided; men seldom forced by it to act, but they are constantly restrained from acting. Such a power does not destroy, but it prevents existence; it does not tyrannize, but it compresses, enervates, extinguishes, and stupefies a people, till each nation is reduced to nothing better than a flock of timid and industrious animals, of which the government is the shepherd. — Alexis de Tocqueville |
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