The Republican journal., 1901-02-07
As Good as a Sermon.

The following from Holman F. Days racy
book, cup in Maine,'' seems specially ap-
propriate at this time:
THE STOCK IN THE TIE-UP.
I'm workin' this week in the wood-lot; a
hearty old job, you can bet;
| finish my chores with a lartern, and marin
has the table all set
By the time get in with the milkin'; and
after ] wash at the sink,
And MAJ m sets saucer O. Strainin'S for the
cat and kittens to drink,
Your uncle is ready for supper, with an ap-
petite whet to an edge
That'll cut like bush-scythe in swale-grass,
and couldn't be dullsd on ledge.
And marin, she Stats open the oven, and
pulls out a heapin' full tin
OF the rippin'eSt cream-tarter biSkit a man
ever pushed at his chin.
We pile some more wood on the fire, and
open the damper full blare,
And pull up and pitch into supper-and
comfort-and taste goodwill, there
And the wind sWOOshes over the chimbly,
and scrapes at the shingles cross grain,
But good double winders and bankin' are
mighty good friends here in Maine.
l look 'crOst the table to mother, and marin
she looks over at me,
And passes another hot biskit and says,
"WOn't We have some more tea?''
And while | am stirrin' the sugar, relish
the sound of the storm.
For, thank the good Lord, we are cosy, and
the stock in the tie-up is warm
l tell ye, the song O the fire and the chrrup-
ping hiss O. the tea,
The roar of the wind in the chimbly, they
sound dreadful cheerful to me.
But they'd harrer me, plague me, and fret
me, unless as l set here l knew
That the critters are munching their fodder
oil 10
These biSkits are light as feather, but, boy,
they'd be heaver'n lead
If thought that my bosses was shiv'rin', if
| thought that my cattle warn't fed
There's men in the neighborhood round
me who pray som vat louder than me,
They wear better clothes, sir, on Sunday
chip in for the heather Chinee,
But the cracks in the sides o. their tie-ups
are wide as the door of o. their pew,
And the winter comes in there a-howlin' with
the sleet and the snow peltin' through.
Step in there, sir, airy mornin', and look at
their critters II would seem
AS if they were bilers or engines, and all O.
them chock full O. steam.
I've got an Old-fashioned religion that cal
kalateS Sunday for rest,
But if there warn't time, sir, on week days
to batten tie-up, Pm blest
I'd use up a Sunday or such-like, and let the
burned heather folks go
While fastened some boards on the Intel
to keep out the frost and the snow.
I'd stand all the frowns of the parson be-
fore I'd have courage to face
The dumb holler eyes O. the critters hook
ed up in a frosty old place.
And I'll bet We that in the Hereafter the men
who have stayed on their knees
And let some poor, fuzzy old cattle stand
out in the tie-up and freeze,
Will find the heat O. the Hot Place is
KEYED to an extra degree
For the men who forget to consider that
critters have feelin's sames We
dasn't go thinkin' o. tie-ups where winter
goes whistlin' through.
Where cattle are bumped at their stanch-
ions with scarcely the gumption to moo
But Pm glad for the sake Of Hereafter that
mine amt the sin and the guilt,
And tell you! l relish my feelin's when
pull up the big patchwork quilt.
I can laugh at the pelt O. the snOwfiakes
and grin at the Stat O. the storm,
And thank the good Lord can sleep now
the stock in the tie-up is warm.
HOLMAN F. DAY.