He found a family of six or seven, All grown-up people, seated in a row; There might be seen upon each face a leaven Of recent, and of decent woe, But that the artist, whose chief cares Were fix'd upon his own affairs, Gazed, with a business eye, to be acquainted Which of the seven wanted to be painted. But a young lady soon our artist greeted, Saying, in words of gentlest music, "Ah!-- Pray, Mr. Thingo'me, be seated,-- We want a likeness of our grandpapa." Such chances Fortune seldom deigns to bring: The very thing! How he should like To emulate Vandyke! Or, rather--still more glorious ambition-- To paint the head like Titian, A fine old head, with silver sprinkled: A face all seam'd and wrinkled:-- The painter's heart 'gan inwardly rejoice; But, as he pondered on that "fine old head," Another utter'd, in a mournful voice, "But, sir, he's dead!" The artist was perplex'd--the case was alter'd: Distrust, stirr'd up by doubt, his bosom warps; "God bless my soul!" he falter'd; "But, surely, you can let me see the corpse? An artist but requires a hint: There are the features--give the cheeks a tint-- Paint in the eyes--and, though the task's a hard 'un, You'll find the thing, I'll swear, As like as he can,--no, I beg your pardon,-- As like as he _could_ stare!" "Alas! alas!" the eldest sister sigh'd, And then she sobb'd and cried, So that 'twas long ere she again could speak,-- "We buried him last week!" 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,-- "Can you describe But a few items, features, shape, and hue? I'll warrant, I'll still paint the likeness true!" "Why, yes, we could do that," said one: "let's see; He had a rather longish nose, like me." "No," said a second; "there you're wrong, His nose was not so very long." "Well, well," pursued the first; "his eyes Were rather smaller than the common size." "How?" cried a third, "how?--not at all; Not small--not small!" "Well, then, an oval face, extremely fine." "Yes," said the eldest son, "like mine." The painter gazed upon him in despair,-- The fellow's face was square!