The Daily Herald

FOR THE HERALD.

Messrs. Editors,-Will you be so kind as to publish the following "riddle," which was perpetrated for the amusement of a few friends. and oblige a

Constant Reader

A RIDDLE.

I've been known in all time—in the present and past,

In the future I shall with eternity last;

I was ne'er in the sky, and ne'er soared in the air,

But where there's a planet or star I am there.

And when fools the approach of a comet bewail,

You may safely make oath I am hitched to his tail.

I shrink from mild breezes, from zephyrs I flee,

But appear in the storm that upturns the deep sea.

I dwell with the thunder, with lightning that gleams,

As I drive with the blast, on the tempest's extremes.

But I've other and manifold business on earth

I am present at every begetting and birth.

With flirts and coquettes I spend all my days.

In their stockings and garters, shifts, bonnets, and stays;

And whenever they rouge to bring youth back again.

They feel that without me their paint would bring pain.

The dandies I aid in their vests and their hats.

Their boots and their coats, pantaloons and cravats:

I'm in all their sweet scents, and yet no one supposes

I ever approached within smell of their noses.

I affect not the mind, yet I start every thought

In all things I am, yet discovered in naught.

The physician might find me in all of his potions,

As the New-Englanders have done in all of their notions;

The reverend divine. too, whatever he saith,

Knows that if I were gone there'd be no form of faith.

The lawyer expects me in every writ,

And without me no player could e'er make a hit.

No shoe-maker ever could charge for a boot,

And a chimney-sweep never could cry his own scot.

No merchant on 'change could without me keep store,

And a tailor would soon be a tailor no more.

In fine, you can never support in those parts

Where I am not found, any trades, any arts.

Blood and carnage I shun. yet in battle delight,

And without me there never can be a fierce fight.

As there never yet has been a change in the night.

When Bonaparte uttered his wild sauve qui peut,

I. I was the last one to bid him adieu.

In the midst of that battle I aided each feat

Of valor and skill, and was last in retreat.

And now, gentle reader, you're doubtless observant,

Declare what am I that end thus, sir,

Your Servant.

Yale College, Jan. 18.