“The most ancient riddle on record,” replied the vicar, “is to be found in the fourteenth chapter of the book of Judges.” “_And Samson said unto them, ‘I will now put forth a riddle unto you; if ye can certainly declare it me within the seven days of the feast, and find it out, then I will give you thirty sheets and thirty changes of garments.’ And they said unto him, ‘Put forth thy riddle that we may hear it.’ And he said unto them, ‘Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness._’” “And did they find it out?” asked Tom. “My dear boy,” replied the vicar, “you must read the chapter to which I have alluded, and you will thence learn all about this enigma.” “We have also numerous riddles in prophane writers of ancient date,” observed Mr. Seymour. “Did you ever read of that invented by Cleobulus, one of the seven wise men of Greece, who lived 570 years before Christ?” enquired the vicar. “Pray be so kind as to relate it,” said Tom. Mr. Twaddleton, in compliance with this request, proceeded as follows:-- “There is a father with twice six sons; these sons have each thirty daughters, who are parti-coloured, having one cheek white, the other black. They never see each other’s faces, nor live above twenty-four hours.” “A very strange and unsociable family!” observed Louisa. “I should never guess it,” said Tom, “if I were to dedicate a year to it.” “You have, nevertheless, my boy, just pronounced the name of the said father, and that, too, after a single moment’s consideration,” replied the vicar. “The name of the father!--how?--where?” “It is a YEAR!” “A year!” exclaimed the astonished boy. “A year!” echoed Louisa; “to be sure it is; I now see it all clearly. His ‘twice six sons’ are the twelve months; the ‘thirty daughters’ the days of each month; and, since one day must necessarily pass away before the next can arrive, they may be truly said never to see each other’s faces.” “Admirably expounded!” cried the vicar. “And each day,” added Tom, “is certainly ‘parti-coloured,’ as it is made up of light and darkness.” “Good, again! The quick apprehension of these my little playmates,” said Mr. Twaddleton, as he turned towards Miss Villers, “is highly interesting; their minds, from well-regulated discipline, have acquired the faculty, if I may be allowed the use of the metaphor, of _winnowing_ a subject, so as completely to separate the grain from the chaff.” “It is my intention to proceed this morning with the consideration of those toys which have the property of producing sound,” said Mr. Seymour. “I suppose you mean the whistle, whiz-gig, and humming-top,” observed Tom. “Your papa, no doubt, alludes to those instruments,” said the vicar, “and I greatly approve of the arrangement; since our last lecture embraced the operations of the atmosphere, a subject with which the nature of sound is certainly intimately connected.”