GIMME A MATCH
By FRED M. KIEFER
Benjamin Franklin was quickly learning to wipe his own nose. up or
down as you prefer, in Boston at the impressionable age of four when
certain German-speaking Swiss emigrants were settling in and around
Lancaster, a frugal little town on the banks of the Conestoga Strand, a
feeder of, and not far distant at this point from, the Susquehanna. |
Records of these men are slim in that year of 1710. That they were
early termed as “Pennsylvania Dutch” and that they are so referred to
in our day, we know. Probably the name is derived from the two-fold fact
that the word “Deutch”
German was extensively used in
their “conversation and when they
left Europe they sailed from Dutch
ports.
Among them we have the names
of several who have a bearing on
this part of our story—names to
whose memory monuments of gran-
ite and permanence, at least, should
have been erected since this is the
world’s manner of rewarding the
benefactors of mankind after they
have passed to their real reward, we
hope, in heaven
_ They were gunsmiths. Those few
~ of whom we are accorded a slight
knowledge were men named Henry,
Allbright, Lehman, Terree, Tolecht,
and Strugel. For the next decade
they experimented on a gun which
was to go down in history, due to
the prominence no doubt of a local
boy who made good with the Ken-
tucky rifle—one Daniel Boone.
We do not know whether Boone was
carrying a Pennsylvania made gun
when he carved on the beech tree
in the valley of Boone's creek his
famous inscription, “D. Boone cilled
a bar on (this) tree in the year
1760”,. Certainly Kentuckians work-
ed upon the arm and probably made
improvements. Sufficient to say our
friends from Lancaster were the |
daddys. The Pennsylvania Rifle was
born. A weapon that played a large
part, not only in the history of Mr.
Coffin’s KENNEBEC, Mr. Carmer’s
HUDSON and Mr. Wilson's WABASH
but many another river, as well as
the wars and feeding of the young
nation.
It is of passing interest to know
that John Joseph Henry, a son of
its inventor, carried one of his fath-
er’s guns with Arnold up the Ken-
nebec, across the Height of Land,
down the boiling Chaudiere and to
the very gates of Quebec. He was
‘as he wrote in his “Journal” years
later, “too young to enjoy any other
honor than that of exposing himself
in the character of a cadet, to every
danger.”
Two of Henry's companions, also
Susquehanna men, on this epic un-
dertaking were Matthew Smith, one
+ime leader of the vicious ‘Paxton
Boys”, not an enviable character, of
whom more anon, and Captain Wil-
liam Hendricks from Cumberland
county. While some of these fight-
ers were of the calm settlements of
the Quakers, the average back-
woodsman had little, indeed, in com-
mon with the non-resisting sects.
There were other Pennsylvan-
ians on this march. We know the
names of some, and that the major-
ity were equipped with the new rifle.
The arm at this time however, had
not penetrated to any extent along
the coast line of New England.
In the westward movement the
two indispensible weapons of the
American pioneer were the axe and
the rifle and no other class of na-
tional builders were as expert in
their use. The axe played its mag-
nificent part but what concerns us
here is the rifle. :
Ungainly and clumsy though it ap
pears to us today, the gun was con-
structed in that manner with con-
siderable thought behind it. Thought
prompted by experience, trial and
error. It was not merely a heavy
piece of iron with a hole through
the center for a round ball to pass;
not made so long in barrel because
there happened to be a piece of
metal of that length around the
shop; ‘mot short-butted because of
the scarcity of maple wood. Nor was
it loaded with a patch atop the ball
to help fill the opening alone.
Neither one, nor all of these appar-
ently hasty designs were embodied
in its make-up without a substantial
reason. Behind each lay a definite,
proven answer.
The round ball was so because
lead in spherical shape, with the
greased patch in the rifled barrel,
was the only kind that could be
shot consistently without great va-
riations of powder. And powder, the
best of which was French, was ex-
pensive and hard to get. The coni-
cal bullet of today is loaded with
the same powder charge, depending
on the grain weight of the lead,
but must be resighted at various
distances. The early rifleman,
therefore, controlled his powder sup-
ply economically. Shooting at close
range the charge was slight—greater
as the distance increased—and leave
it to the hunter to know how little
or how much powder he must use.
At first the ball was slightly
larger than the barrel which was
cup-shaped at the end to start the
entrance. It was, when being load-
ed, forced in by a stout hickory
ramrod so as to take the twist of
rifling, which gave it a whirling mo-
mentum upon exit and increased its
_tradjectory. Some genius, probably
one Farrell, discovered that a ball
cast a trifle smaller than the bore
could be rolled in without pressure
and with the added application of
‘a greased piece of linen made to
stay at the proper end of the gun.
The patch also plugged up the gas-
ses behind the bullet, accentuating
the explosive action in the rear.
Nor was it to give added effective-
meaning
— RE
THE LOW DOWN FROM
HICKORY GROVE
Rambling around in the
dictionary is mot a bad
idea. Now and then you
will pick up a word which
you can maybe use to
wake em up with, at the
lunch club, or some place.
And here recently I was
over in the A pages and I
ran across ambidextrous.
It looked pretty good, so
to get a little practice I
says to Jack Bamlage—
Jack is my neighbor and a
contractor, and a pretty
good ome — Jack, I says,
these carpenters you got
working here sure are am-
bidextrous.
Ambidextrous, he says
kinda querisome-like.
Sure, I says, ambidex-
trous means being good
with both hands—as good
with one hand as the oth-
er. Like the President, I
With one hand he signs a
says, he is ambidextrous.
bill to increase production
in a cammon factory, and
with the other he signs
one which limits the hours
you can work in the same
factory—which cuts down
production.
Jack looked kinda dubi-
ous. I don’t quite savvy,
he says—it don’t look so
hot to me. And I says,
pardner, you got nothing
on me—I am in the same
boat.
Yours with the low down,
JO SERRA.
IN B
FLYING LEAVES
In masquerade of red and gold,
The woods of fall are gay and bold;
They sift “confetti” down the lane
To celebrate the summer's wane.
With brightest leaves, the wind
plays ball;
He tosses them with shout and call.
I like to catch them as he blows—
But, Jack Frost comes to nip my
nose.
Helen Maring
IT WOULD
The river ran headlong toward the
town;
The willows tried to stay it,
The dam tried to stay it,
The rushes tried to stay it,
The bathers tried to stay it,
But it would rush headlong to town
And there suffer the indignity of
being piped to houses.
Helen Eckert
A RHYME OF TAILS
Like monkeys sitting on a tree,
The letters g and j and p
All hang their tails below the line
Which like a branch, is very fine
To sit upon—with q, and y.
The other letters passing by
All think that they would like tails
too.
So here’s a pretty how d’ye do!
Margaret Louise Sutcliffe
struggle, nor to extend the length
so that all the powder would find
room to burn, that the long and
heavy barrel was appended. In the
thick and darker woodland, where
the arm saw most of its service, it
was necessary to see clearly the
crotch of the rear sight and the bone
or knife splinter at the front in as
clear a manner as possible. Very
often the success, or lack of. success,
of the first shot spelled the differ-
ence between a longer life and a
terminal of existance. Since this
type of sight had a tendency to blur,
either at the front or rear, the clos-
er they remained to the other, the
more the long barrel became a plane
over which the eye gained in clar-
ity between the extension of the
sights. Barrels were often as lengthy
as four feet or better. Again econ-
omy of powder and lead became a
factor. If the hunter saw better—
he shot better. He was frequently
not home from the hill for a twelve-
month and the Winchesters, Rem-
ingtons and du Ponts were far in
the future.
While the barrel gained the mag-
nitude of four feet the butt held to
a length of from twelve to fifteen
inches. There were times aplenty
when health and peace of mind de-
pended on snap shooting from be-
hind a tree or in a quick twist
across the chest. The short stock
permitted it.
There, technically and abbreviat-
ed, we have the outline of the fa-
mous “Long Rifle”, a weapon in-
fluenced by the Susquehanna River
and influencing in its turn the Rev-
olutionary War and the building of
America.
ness to a weapon in a hand to hand
(Continued next week)
SECOND THOUGHTS
by
javie aiche
After all, what do I care?
Other than to say: Saluto, Senor
Presidentzia; bon jour, monsieur;
prosit, yocsi mascz, and hello. Now
that you got it, what you gonna do
with it?
—O—
There's tough going ahead and
he’s going to need everything from
a cant-hook to an alpenstock, plus
a donkey engine and an elephant
hitch on the off-side of the climb.
What's been worrying your cor-
respondent is Pierre Laval in France
and the chain-market around the
corner. The one can talk and does
talk, with prophecy. The other
can’t, but it stands for the same
thing. Laval says that democracy
has reached journey’s end. If the
chain-market is aught but confirma-
tion, will some one please elucidate ?
Discussion such as this is what
comes of attending a forum of con-
flicting opinion and finding not even
approach to agreement on whether
last Tuesday we added the caboose
to our train of presidents or set up
the siren on the locomotive that is
going down the long way of regi-
mentation.
Well, I do care; because, I already
have two generations following
after me.
Maybe Laval is as bad as he’s
painted. But how often has he
made a wrong guess? And since
America has taken regimentation
in everything else, in business, in
unions, in industry and in politics,
how much longer can it escape the
trend in government?
——
It seems as though it was in an-
other lifetime, but this scrivener re-
=
FREEDOM
The columnists and con-
tributors on this page are
allowed great latitude in
expressing their own opin-
ions, even when their
opinions are at variance
with those of The Post
Be
members having sat on the porch of
the old Kingston Corners grocery.
And astride a sugar barrel in the
Ruggles store near Pike's Creek. He
can’t forget the debating group that
munched cheese and gingersnaps at
Bill Rosser’s, in the back room
where the customers wouldn't be
disturbed, nor yet barred if they
wanted to get in on the palaver.
Yes, it did seem as though it was
in another lifetime, the contrast of
going down to the chain market.
No friendly proprietor there. The
multiple owner is a bunch of stock-
holders stemming out of Chicago, or
Philadelphia, or New York.
No old time clerks. Nothing but
automatons. Not a barrel in sight,
nothing on view excepting package
goods. Instead of a chair there was
at this old-timer’s disposal a kind of
go-cart thing, with wicker baskets
top and bottom. Maybe it’s Ameri-
can to push the damn thing around
and help yourself, but if the impli-
cation is that business is full of
faith and confidence in average hon-
esty, dont’ forget that the way out
is barred, with chains, until the
boys at the adding-machine cash
registers have - totted your taking
and made you pay on the line.
There’s a nice hunk of the Amer-
ican way of life crushed in the sys-
tem of profits. And what's left of
the corner grocery can’t contend
against cut rates and cut costs with
what congeniality has been left over
from being scared stiff.
First the blacksmith shop, then
the postoffice, now the grocery
store. All gone out of the easy
habits of the people. If the lunch-
room is the last stand, then how
long before it evolves into the auto-
mat? It's half-way there now ‘with
the cafeteria.
In the great industries they no
longer make mechanics They make
human accessories to the trams, the
conveyors, the parts lines, so that
one man in a working career learns
no more than the fitting of a single
part.
re Qr—
Meanwhile, we of the forum look-
ed over the costs of democracy, set-
.ting them up against what might be
the expenditures of four more years
of war. We estimated how we might
reduce to half every function of our
happy-go-lucky local, county, State
and national systems. Meaning, of
course, that if the money-using na-
tions continue to spend and borrow
against the fundamental opposition
of barter, then there’s going to come
a point at which government must
take its cue from the Ford prompt-
ing of getting the most from the
least.
And there, it would seem, is where
democracy goes out.
Your correspondent envies many
men. One he does not envy is the
very great man we just elected to
the world’s highest office,
THE
BOOK SHELF
“He Fought for Freedom.” A
Boy’s Life of Ethan Allen. By
Sidney W. Dean. Macrae-Smith
Company, Philadelphia.. $2.50.
284 pages.
“Drovers East.” By Pitt L.
Fitzgerald. Macrae-Smith Com-
pany, Philadelphia. $2.00. 352
pages.
“Wings Over West Point.” By
R. G. Emery. Macrae-Smith
Company, Philadelphia. $2.00.
297 pages.
“Bold of Heart.” By Helen
Elmira Waite. Macrae-Smith
Company, Philadelphia. $2.00.
250 pages.
(Reviewed by Larry Brennan)
Patriotism will probably set the
theme for this winter's juvenile
reading list, but at least one gded
mystery story for girls does manage
to push forward and demand our
recognition.
Of the four new books recently
released by Macrae-Smith Company,
three are completely concerned with
patriotism, while the other, although
it is primarily a light, mystery story,
does center its plot around the dis-
appearance of a Paul Revere chris-
tening bowl.
“He Fought for Freedom”, a bi-
ography of Ethan Allen, written
with the charm of a novel, is prob-
ably the best of the three patriotic
themes. Although the book is fact-
ual all of the way, it does hold more
suspense than “Drovers East”
which is fiction based on a historical
pattern, or “Wings over West Point”
which is also fiction but takes a few
liberties with fact. “Bold of Heart”
is gay and wholesome with a few
dire forebodings.
Perhaps it is the character of
Ethan Allen which makes his biog-
raphy most interesting. Too little is
“More than a newspaper,
a community institution”
THE DALLAS POST
ESTABLISHED 1889
A non-partisan liberal
progressive newspaper pub-
lished every Friday morning
at its plant on Lehman Ave-
nue, Dallas, Penna., by the
Dallas Post, Inc.
Entered as second-class matter
at the post office at Dallas, Pa.,
under the Act of March 3, 1879.
Subscriptions, $2 a year, payable
in advance.
Howard W. Risley............ Manager
Hed Priest ti, Mech, Supt,
known of this almost legendary hero
of the American Revolution. To
most of us his life begins and ends
when he stepped up to Fort Ticon-
deroga and demanded that fort's
surrender in the name of “the Great
Jehovah and the Continental Con-
gress.” The real Ethan Allen be-
gan his fight for freedom long be-
fore the revolution was conceived.
For years he had been fighting the
Royal Governor of New York Colony
in defiance of the claim that Ver-
mont came under the jurisdiction of
Albany.
When the Revolution began,
Ethan Allen was only too eager to
expand his fight for freedom. Cap-
turing Ticonderoga merely whetted
his appetite. Allen decided to lead
110 followers against Montreal. For
the first time the brave Vermonter
met with reverses, and nearly per-
ished in various British military
prisons. When Ethan Allen did gain
his freedom, he found that his sac-
rifices for his country were woe-
fully unappreciated. As Brigadier
General of the Vermont Militia, he
was offered the same lucrative temp-
tations which corrupted Benedict
Arnold; but Allen raged indignantly
at his would-be bribers and remain-
ed a proud, loyal patriot. ‘The book,
like Ethan Allen himself, is strong
in its simplicity.
“Drovers East” also concerns a
vitally important period in our na-
tion’s history; 1810, when the Ohio
settlements were separated from the
eastern seaboard by great moun-
tains and difficult rivers. The story
opens with Andy O'Farrell, a lad of
sixteen, helping to drive a herd of
cattle from the then Western fron-
tier to market in Baltimore. This
was a singularly difficult task and
accomplished only once before in
history. Complications appear rap-
idly; a mysterious stranger steps into
the scene when things might oth-
therwise be dull. This all blends to-
gether nicely to make the plot pulse
quickening; the way boys like their
plots.
“Wings over West Point” polishes
up a pretty well worn theme—the
boy who is deflated and made into
a man by: West Point, Annapolis,
Notre Dame, or whatever the case
may be. However, Captain Emery,
U. S. A. the author uses a very
satisfactory brand of old theme
polish, and most boys won't realize
| THE SAFETY
ee
es se os
THE SENTIM
Saturday evening there was a dinner
for dinner.
fair daughter had been sent home to
By EDITH BLEZ J
The New Young Lady in our house has suddenly developed an unusual
interest in the opposite sex. We expected that it would come sooner than
this, and we haven’t been looking forward to it, but we are sorely afraid
that this is one of the worst stages in our very varied career as a mother!
ENTAL SIDE
party at our house. Guests were all
older people and our fair daughter had been shooed off to her Aunt’s
It happened that dinner at her Aunt’s house was earlier than
usual and the mud at the football game had been very bad, so that our
change her shoes. Consequently in
the middle of the dinner party our
New Young Lady made a very mud-
dy appearance!
There was an extra guest at the
dinner party. It happened that he
was just seventeen and in uniform!
His father had picked him up at
Camp Dix and brought him along.
When our fair daughter saw the uni-
form and the quite attractive boy
we had our hands quite full! We
were plenty busy. After we served
dinner we planned to attend the
performance of the local little the-
atre group here in town, and our
New Young Lady was going with us.
After she had met the guests our
fair daughter disappeared upstairs
to dress. :
Just when we were occupied with
two colored people in the kitchen,
and twelve guests in the dining room
we could hear a stage whisper at the
head of the stairs. “Mother, what
shall I wear? Aren't there any
clean stockings? I simply can’t
wear socks tonight. Mother, what
will the people downstairs think
when they see me in socks? Gee,
Mother; why didn’t you tell me that
boy was coming? Can't he go to
the play with us? Gee—he’s neat—
isn’t he? How old is he? Ask him
to go to the play with us? Mother,
please ask him to go to the play
with us? How does my hair look ?”
When we insisted that the bathroom
be put into some sort of order the
New Young Lady didn’t hear one
word we said. She was making the
round of the mirrors on the second
floor. You know about those mir-
rors on our second floor, the mirrors
which take such a terrific beating
each time our fair daughter gets
dressed to go anywhere very spe-
cial!
We asked the young man to go to
the play with us and he accepted,
much to our fair daughter’s almost
insane delight. On the way over
we managed to get in one small
sentence and we wish you could
have heard our fair daughter apol-
ogizing for the smallness of our vil-
lage. She hoped the young man
wouldn’t be too bored with the play
because it was only small town tal-
ent!
We enjoyed the play and we really
didn’t pay much attention to our
fair daughter and her heartthrob
until we suddenly realized that our
New Young Lady was having a mar-
velous time. Some of the girls in her
crowd, in the audience, were prac-
tically breaking their silly heads try-
ing to see our fair daughter’s escort.
Several times we passed a comment
about the people on the stage or in
the audience but she heard abso-
lutely nothing, she was in some
crazy kind of seventh heaven where
all the boys wear uniforms and all
the girls are green with envy!
VALVE |
This column is open to .
everyone. Letters should be
plainly written and signed.
Success To ‘Postscripts’
Dallas, Pa.
The Post:
I'm sorry I couldn’t be around to
say “goodbye” to Postscripts, but I
hope he has much success in his
venture .
Mrs. Ralph G. Eipper
Another Republican
Kingston, Pa.
The Post:
Let me congratulate the man who
wrote the editorial in last Friday's
Post. It was the best I have read
in any newspaper — anywhere, on
the subject.
L. A. McHenry
No Question
Dallas, Pa.
The Post:
There have been years when there
was some question where The Post
stood on political issues. Not so
this year. There has been no doubt
in your editorial column . . . and
your last one rang the bell.
G. T..K.
Liked Editorial
Wyoming Seminary
that this witty, quick paced story
was written for anyone but the red
blooded, 1940 edition, All-American
boy. There are also the full quota
of adventures and perplexities. There
is one humorous incident when the
hero, Don Moore finds that his fath-
er is principally opposed to West
Point because it is a Federal Pro-
ject and his family never had any-
thing to do with the WPA or the
FHA.
“Bold of Heart” is also carried
along mainly by witty dialogue.
Elen Herrick, a cheerful but sensi-
tive girl of sixteen, agrees to stay
with an aunt and uncle while re-
covering from a serious back and
knee injury. There is not much
trouble, however, until a chance re-
mark by one of the male characters
reveals a very exciting mystery—
Office of the President
The Post:
It has just been my privilege to
read the editorial in the November
1 issue under the caption “Though
| He Speak With the Tongues of Men
|
the disappearance of a Paul Revere
{ christening bowl. Not being Ethan
I Allen with his sinewy limbs to help
{him battle his way through the
problems which arise, not being
(Andy O'Farrell with his pioneer
'ruggedness, nor Don Moore, with
‘his trusted airplane, Elen must ap-
ply distinctly feminine to all the
little cob webs of mystery. Her |
| results are nevertheless breathtak-|
| ing and deserving of the applause of
| multitudes of little feminine read-
THE OLD
SCRAPBOOK
——By "Bob" Sutton —
Hi!
Hope you're keeping happy, even
if your man wasn’t elected. After all,
they both couldn’t have been.
A wild goose never laid a tame
egg. ; :
Ignorance never settles a ques-
tion.
No one can measure the depths of
another’s love
A missionary in India had the
into Hindoostan. On retranslation
into English by a student, the first
two lines bore this inspiring thought:
“Very old stone, split for my ben-
efit,
Let me absent myself under your
fragments”.
“A PEOPLE'S PRAYER”
Oh, God in the heavens far up.
above,
Who looks down on this world who
forgot how to love,
That love which is needed more
than ever before
Because nations refused peace and
accepted this war. £
Look down on Your children ‘who
need You today,
Their love has grown cold, they for-
got how to pray. E
They learned from experience many
times before Spat
That they who fail are men of war.
Still in this age progressing so fast,
They selected war, a thing of the
past.
They tell the world they are fight-
ing for right,
When the world really knows they
are fighting for might.
They forgot the rule of right and
wrong, )
too strong; i
Yet worse than this they make men
slaves
To live in fear until they reach
their graves. :
Teach us, dear Father, from Thy
throne above,
To think more of Thee, and Thy un-
failing love. :
Teach those who rule us to do
what is right, :
having to fight.
—Betty Cressman.
Someone had the privilege of
spending a night with one of our
great Bishops. Upon retiring, the
visitor expected to hear some great
display of piety and prayer. Instead,
and said simply, ‘Father, we are on
I the same relations.”
Remember, nothing is politically
right which is morally wrong. ;
COMES FOG
It twists with billowing curls
In from the sea
To mould the coastline bare
With imagery.
From swamp and river
Its mesh is spun, 3
And held in suppliant mood
Toward the sun.
flats :
And mountain crags above,
See puffed below;
Sun-filtered tossing banks
Of sifted snow.
Ethel Wilson
and of Angels”. It was an editorial
which equalled the best on the par-
ticular issue involved which it has
been my privilege to read during
the present campaign, and. if it had
appeared earlier I should have
taken the liberty of mailing it to the
National Republican ' Headquarters.
It was carefully thought out and
simply but clearly and forcefully
expressed. Please convey my con-
gratulations to the writer.
Very sincerely yours,
Wilbur H. Fleck
Brother’s Address
’ Dallas R. D. 4
The Post:
The family of Mrs. Sallie Urbano-
vitch, Dallas, R. D. 4, express their
appreciation for the article concern-
ing their mother’s death which ap-
peared in last week’s Post. Edward's
address is P. F. C. Edward Urbano-
vitch, American Embassy Guard,
Peiping, China.
Thanking you for your kindness,
Agnes Urbanovitch
What’s The Post Without
‘Postscripts’ ?
Dallas R. F. D. 4
The Post:
and wish Howell Rees all success,
still have The Dallas Post.
}
ers’ hands.
Mrs. Laura Henson
And to settle our problems without
the Bishop bowed his head, knelt,
I am sorry ‘‘Postscripts” is gone,
but if he must leave I'm glad we -
hymn, “Rock of Ages”, translated
That wrong always fails for right is