Enquire within upon everything

In re-citing the above I strongly emphasized the misplaced h's. After a brief pause, Mrs. Hitchings exclaimed, "Very good; very clever." I then determined to complete my task by repeating the following enigma upon the same letter written by Miss Catherine Fanshawe and often erroneously attributed to Byron: 'Twas whispered in heaven, 'twas muttered in hell, And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell; On the confines of earth 'twas permitted to rest, And the depths of the ocean its presence confessed. 'Twill be found in the sphere when 'tis riven asunder, Be seen in the lightning, and heard in the thunder. 'Twas allotted to man with his earliest breath, Attends at his birth, and awaits him in death; It presides o'er his happiness, honour, and health, Is the prop of his house, and the end of his wealth. In the heaps of the miser 'tis hoarded with care, But is sure to be lost on his prodigal heir. It begins every hope, every wish it must bound, With the husbandman toils, with the monarch is crowned. Without it the soldier and seaman may roam, But woe to the wretch who expels it from home. In the whispers of conscience its voice will be found, Nor e'en in the whirlwind of passion be drowned. 'Twill not soften the heart, and though deaf to the ear, 'Twill make it acutely and instantly hear. But in shade let it rest, like a delicate flower-- Oh, breathe on it softly--it dies in an hour.