“It is beautiful,” said Tom; “but I should like to find out the riddle it contains. What can that be which grinds our corn, and carries our ships across the sea? Canvass? Yes; canvass clothes the sails of the windmill and forms those of the ship.”
“And therefore visits every clime; while, as long as the sails remain fixed, they are quite tractable and steady,” added Louisa.
“It will not do, Louisa; it cannot be canvass: for the sail is never boisterous when it is controlled; but when let loose, it shivers in the wind and is very unruly; whereas it is said in the riddle, ‘When uncontroll’d my nature’s mild,’ which is quite the reverse. Let me see. Can it be string? My top could not hum without string.”
“How can string prevent the modest maid from fading like a flower? What says the vicar?” asked Louisa.
“Davus sum, non Œdipus,” exclaimed Mr. Twaddleton.
At this moment Miss Villers whispered in the ear of her little favourite, who shortly afterwards exclaimed, “I have it, Tom,--it is AIR.”
The juvenile group now attentively perused the enigma, in order to discover whether its different parts would admit of such an interpretation. As soon as they arrived at the passage in which was described the waving of the banners over the bier of Nelson, Tom declared that his sister must be wrong; and was proceeding to offer his reasons, when Mr. Seymour interrupted him, by observing, it was that passage which first suggested to his mind the solution of the enigma; and satisfied him that Louisa was perfectly right.
“It so happened,” continued he, “that I was present during the awful ceremony of Nelson’s interment in St. Paul’s; and never shall I forget the thrilling effect which was produced on the assembled multitude, by the solemn movement of the banners in the dome, as the bier slowly advanced along the aisle of the cathedral; and which was accidentally occasioned by a current of air from the western entrance, although, to the eye of fancy, it seemed as if some attendant spirit had directed the colours, under which the hero had bled and conquered, to offer this supernatural testimony of respect and sorrow.”
Miss Villers observed, that Louisa had unquestionably solved the riddle.
“And pray, my dear Mr. Twaddleton,” said Mrs. Seymour, “what say you to these puzzles and rhyming conundrums? Do you hold them in as much horror as you would so many puns?”