CHARADE.
299.
My first gave us early support;
My next a virtuous lass;
To the fields, if at eve you resort,
My whole you will probably pass.
300. Entire, I belong to the United States; remove one eye, and I belong to a horse; curtail me, and I belong to the human race; curtail again, and I am the child’s best friend; curtail again, and I am best known to the printer; curtail again, and I become invisible.
ENIGMA.
301.
Though for years I had lived, I was unknown to fame,
Till I rescued a slave, and I gave him my name.
Though then Abolitionist—still I enthrall,
And unless I imprison—of no use at all.
’Tis strange I should be both a boon and a blow,
But when you discern me, this fact you will know.
Doctors’ stuff I convey and small matters unfold,
Yet rare gems I preserve and great nuggets of gold.
In form I am round or three-cornered or square,
And at once I am known as both common and rare.
If you wish to be safe when you look at a show,
You must pay for, and take me, and sit in a row.
Clothed in crimson, and purple, and black I am seen,
Yet in gardens in winter I’m constantly green.
I am valued and dear, though ’tis equally clear,
I am scorned and am hated when placed on the ear.
Both of light goods and heavy I carry the trade,
Yet in gold I’m oft clothed and in jewels arrayed.
If bad passion disturb, or should ill-will excite,
I become the forerunner of many a fight.
Yet stranger than all these remarkable things,
I’m a gift oft bestowed by princes and kings.
N.B.—As I find it impossible to display all my qualities and peculiarities in verse, I will endeavor to describe myself more minutely in plain prose. I am either animal, vegetable, or mineral, and though sometimes no bigger than a bright copper penny or a silver sixpence, yet I am at times as large as a room—indeed, I am a room, and can contain several people; and then, too, I am made narrow, and can only contain one horse! In summer and winter I flourish as a vegetable, and am often cut, but never served at table. I am most valued at the end of the year, when I am often given and often taken. Though unlearned, I have given name to a science—a very striking quality you will acknowledge, when you know me. If you discover me, you deserve me as a reward. If you are dull of comprehension, you deserve me as a punishment! May you have your deserts!
302.
My first you are when over the ground
You lightly trip to the river’s bank,
Where my second may always be found;
Beware my whole, ’tis cold and dank.
And fatal, too, to many a one
Who will not its danger carefully shun.
303.
I am composed of 13 letters:
My 9, 10, 7, 1 was a good man.
My 4, 5, 13, 2, 8 is an unhappy wretch.
My 11, 12, 3, 6 is an adjective.
My whole is an extraordinary tale.