We are even told to pray for our daily bread." "Well, it can't mean jest that, fur the feller that don't work for't don't git it, an' he hadn't oughter git it.

If he don't lift his hands, but jest sets with his mouth open, he gits mostly flies.

The old birds, with a nest full o' howlin' young ones, might go on, I s'pose, pickin' up grasshoppers till the cows come home, an' feedin' 'em, but they don't.

They jest poke 'em out o' the nest, an' larn 'em to fly an' pick up their own livin'; an' that's what makes birds on 'em.

They pray mighty hard fur their daily bread, I tell ye, and the way the old birds answer is jest to poke 'em out, and let 'em slide.