An enormous claymore (19) hung by the door, and at a black-oak desk which had once belonged to Old Noll (20) sat a little weazened man of kindly look. As I entered he laid down a copy of the Vinegar Bible (31) which he had been reading, and rose to greet me.
"As I live!" he exclaimed. "You remind me of the Man (22) of Blood. Where do you hail from?"
"O, I have been visiting old worlds and new," I replied.
"Here are two busts," he went on. "They are of the Laughing Philosopher (23) and the Weeping Philosopher (24), and the contents of these cases are worth having. If you can answer my descriptions, they are yours. Others have tried—and have failed."
He handed me the following rhymes:
My first was used in Shakespeare's time
To exorcise the evil one.
My second's life is spent in toil;
Reward it never yet has won.
The wondrous beauty of my whole
May well be praised in poets' verse.
To purchase it would much reduce
The contents of the longest purse (25).
My first is a large reflector,
Old, but as good as new.
My second's the bone and sinew
Of lands that we travel through.
My whole is little, and lucky, and white;
Much like my first, but not so bright (26).
I gave up.
"Here is an easy one," he said. "It describes an every-day object, and is no quiz (27), I assure you, but an honest riddle."
I was born in the sun, but I lived in the earth.
I died where I lived, and was buried from sight.
I rose from the tomb that had long been my home
To curse or to comfort, destroy or delight (28).
To my surprise my answer was correct.