Hezekiah's Art by Joseph C. Lincoln — Read

My son Hezekiah's a painter; yes, that's the purfession he's at; / An artist, I mean, -- course he ain't a whitewasher or nothin' like that. / At home he was always a-drawin' and shirkin' his work 'round the place, / And kept me continyerly jawin' or dressin' him down with a trace; / Till I says ter Mother, "Between us, this thing might's well be understood; / Our Hez is jest simply a gen'us, and a gen'us is _never_ no good; / He won't stop fer jawin's and dressin's; he'll daub and he'll draw all the while; / So he might as well have a few lessons, and learn how ter do it in style."

So I sold a slice of the wood-lot ter the folks at the summer hotel, / That fetched me some cash -- quite a good lot -- so now he's been gone a long spell; / He's got a room up ter the City, an' calls it a name that is queer -- / I ain't up in French, more's the pity -- but something that's like "attyleer. " / I went up last month on a visit, and blamed if that place wa'n't a sight! / The fourteenth or fifteenth -- which is it? -- well, anyhow, it's the top flight; / I wouldn't have b'lieved he could be there, way up on that breath-takin' floor, / If't wa'n't fer the sign that I see there -- "H. Lafayette Boggs" -- on the door.