We've got a brand-new organ now, and singers--only four-- But, land! we pay 'em cash enough ter fee a hundred more; They sing newfangled tunes and things that some folks think are sweet, But don't appeal ter me no more'n a fish-horn on the street. I'd like once more ter go ter church and watch old Nathan wave His tunin'-fork above the crowd and lead the glorious stave; I'd like ter hear old Parson Day jest knock the sinners higher, And then set back and hear a hymn with Nathan leadin' choir. * * * * * HEZEKIAH'S ART 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. That room was a wonder fer certain! The floor was all paint-spots and dirt, Each window was hung with a curtain, striped gay as a calico shirt; The walls was jest like a museum, all statoos and flim-flam and gush And picters--good land! when I see 'em I jest had ter turn 'round and blush; And Hez! he looked like a gorilla,--a leetle round hat on his head, And hair that would stuff a big piller, and necktie blue, yeller, and red; I swan, he did look like a daisy! I tell yer, it went ter my heart, 'Cause, course I supposed he was crazy, until he explained it was ART. [Illustration: "I swan, he did look like a daisy!"] This Art, it does stagger a feller that ain't got a connerseer's view, Fer trees by its teachin' is yeller, and cows is a shade of sky-blue. Hez says that ter paint 'em like natur' is common and tawdry and vile; He says it's a plaguey sight greater to do 'em "impressionist style." He done me my portrait, and, reely, my nose is a ultrymarine, My whiskers is purple and steely, and both of my cheeks is light green. When Mother first viewed it she fainted--she ain't up in Art, don't yer see? And she had a notion 'twas painted when Hez had been off on a spree.