I come from Concord, Mass., and have often walked down to the “rude bridge that arched the flood,” as Emerson put it, and have gazed up at the statue of the embattled farmer. His hand is on his plow as he faces the British, and he is carrying a musket.
A musket: Tip it up, put the powder in, then the ball, then the wadding. Ram it home with the ramrod, check the flint, and fire it at your enemy. Then, if you need to, do it all over again.