The painter heaved a groan: "But, surely, madam,
You have a likeness of the dear deceased;
Some youthful face, whose age might be increased?"
"No, no,—we haven't, sir, no more than Adam;
Not in the least!"
This was the strangest thing that e'er occurr'd;—
"You'll pardon me," the baffled painter cried;
"But, really, I must say, upon my word,
You might have sent for me before he died."
And then he turn'd to the surviving tribe,—