CENERENTOLA.—N bnxm yt ywd nk dtz hfs wjfi ymnx fsi fr rtxy fscntzx yt mjfw ymf esi bmjs dtz wjyzws, f imtb qtsldtz wjrfns, mjwj It bwnyf f kjb qnsjx jfwqnsl uqjfxj: N mfaj gjjs ajwd kfw kwtr mfund xnshy dtz bjsy fbfd.
Which being interpreted, reads: “Cenerentola, I wish to try if you can read this, and am most anxious to hear the end, when you return, and how long you remain here. Do write a few lines, darling, please. I have been very far from happy since you went away.” This appeared in February 2, and some difficulty appears to be in the way, for it is not till the 11th that we find another, which is evidently not in reply, and equally evidently not satisfactory. It says:—
CENERENTOLA.—Zsynq rd mjfwy nx xnhp mfaj ywnji yt kwfrj fs jcugfifynts kwt dtz gzy hfssty. Xnqjshj nx xfs jxy nk ymf ywzj hfzxj nx sty xzx jhyji; nk ny nx fgg xytwnjx bngg gj xnkyji yt ymj gtyytr. It dtz wjrjrgjw tzw htzxns’x knwxy uwtutxnynts: ymnsp tk ny.
As this system simply consisted in commencing the alphabet with the letter f and continuing in regular sequence, the explanation of the last specimen is almost obvious; but so that there should be no difficulty or doubt about it, and so that the intriguers should know they were discovered, some literary lockpicker inserted on the 15th, in the usual personal column of the Times, a full translation, correcting all errors of the printer, and concluding with a notice in the secret language, which must have frightened its originators. The explanatory advertisement runs thus:—
CENERENTOLA, until my heart is sick have I tried to frame an explanation for you, but cannot. Silence is safest, if the true cause is not suspected: if it is all stories will be sifted to the bottom. Do you remember our cousin’s first proposition? Think of it.—N pstb Dtz.
The cryptogram at the end is a warning, for, subjected to the test, we find it is neither more nor less than “I know you.” This seems to have effectually silenced the originals; but the marplots were probably still at work, for on the 19th of February another notification appears, this time in plain English, and running thus:—
CENERENTOLA, what nonsense! Your cousin’s proposition is absurd. I have given an explanation—the true one—which has perfectly satisfied both parties—a thing which silence never could have effected. So no more such absurdity.
How miserably small the inventor of this cipher must have felt, and how ridiculous those most interested must have appeared to each other, we leave to the imaginations of those readers who have suddenly been stopped in any grand flight to find themselves as idiotic as they had before considered themselves ingenious. Doubtless the Cenerentolans will not want for sympathisers even amongst those who affect most to ridicule them. Much about the same time as the instance we have given, and while the rage for secret advertising was in its meridian, one of the most remarkable samples of the kind appeared—remarkable as much for its want of reason as for anything else. On February 20, 1852, we are told by the Quarterly, there appeared in the Times the following mysterious lines:—
TIG tjohw it tig jfhiirvola og tig psgvw.
F. D. N.