CHARADES.
NO. 2.
My first is, in sound, the odd creature that goes
Into Hottentots' traps when he follows his nose:
But in sense 't is an adjective, short, spick and span,
Well hated by Hunkers and kept under ban.
My second it qualifies, also my third,
Though a high fen between can't be crossed nor be stirred.
Now my next, like a swindler when cleaned out of tin,
Has always its tick, and takes most people in.
Amphibious its habit, as frequently found
Beneath the blue sea as on top of the ground:
Yet, oddest caprice out of destiny's cup,
Just when in full feather 't is always “sewed up.”
What is forced and affected most all people spurn,
Yet they like this because 't is a made-up concern.
Best friend when our sunshine to gloom is converted,
Yet the moment we rise in the world we desert it.
Best friend, yet precisely its stead you can find,
To which, strange to say, you are never inclined.
And the warmer you get when a lieing you take it,
The more you wink at it, the less you forsake it.
Wet blankets you throw over swells, but not so
O'er my second, however puffed up it may grow.
My third is so shallow you'll guess it before
I've told you how many smart folks pass it o'er;
Even Cæsar went o'er it and by it and through it,
And lived long enough, the baldpate, to rue it.
Tho' shallow it is, yet the bravest and best
By keeping it give of their wisdom a test.
And the hotter it gets in dispute, yet the most
Courageous is he who wont let it be crossed.
On the whole, though 't is often a subject of strife,
More people it joins than it parts in this life.
My whole is a place I forbear now to flatter;
It thrives upon those whose dearest and best
Severely it tries, yet makes light of the matter,
And thinks the more wicked their end, the more blest.
J. W.
ILLUSTRATED REBUS.—No. 2.
