And this when read must have caused some feeling of consternation, as it was an evident burlesque of the real correspondent’s style: “Flo, thou voice of my heart! How I do love you! How are you? Shall you be laid up this spring? I can see you walking with your darling. What would I give to be with you! Thanks for your last letter. I fear nothing but separation from you. You are my world, my life, my hope. Thou more than life, farewell! God bless you!” The natural effect of this was to cause an alarm to be given, and so on the following day the following was inserted in the famous private column:—
FLO.—8 9454 6454401 214 739 844 30 6307284446. 84314 51 2274 12 0214 943426 “326352 08585.” 9. 2. 8177327853. 81770.
Which drops the curtain upon “Flo” and her lover, who is more than likely not to have been her husband—and this without affecting the question as to her being married. It is translated in these words: “Flo.—I fear, dearest, our cipher is discovered. Write at once to your friend, “Indian Shawl,” P. O., Buckingham, Bucks.” So much for secret correspondences, which are not often to be seen nowadays, though when any one is found foolish enough to confide in the press under these circumstances, the comic papers almost invariably make capital out of the communications, and give to their less acute readers full information. Here is one we fell across the other day in the Telegraph. We must admit to a decided ignorance as to what it means, but perhaps the reader, profiting by the foregoing, will be able to decipher it:—
KANGAROO revived by bones, though nearly choked by a piece of one after swallowing five hard biscuits. Troubled. Four cat two six camel five two one eight pig one boar in every way. Four nine leopard one four elephant three four seven boar. Faithful until death.
This looks like an attempt to set the cryptographists on a wrong scent, and probably means nothing. If it really is a genuine communication, its scope must be extremely limited. Many of the mysterious advertisements which appear in the usual style are very noticeable, though of late the art has fallen a prey to the vendors of quack medicines and cheap books, and the managers of some theatres and music-halls. What has been characterised, and with every probability of truth, as the most ghastly advertisement that ever appeared in a public journal is the following, which is taken from the Times of the year 1845. It certainly is a most frightful paragraph:—
TO THE PARTY WHO POSTS HIS LETTERS IN PRINCE’S STREET, LEICESTER SQUARE.—Your family is now in a state of excitement unbearable. Your attention is called to an advertisement in Wednesday’s Morning Advertiser, headed “A body found drowned at Deptford.” After your avowal to your friend as to what you might do, he has been to see the decomposed remains, accompanied by others. The features are gone; but there are marks on the arm; so that unless they hear from you to-day, it will satisfy them that the remains are those of their misguided relative, and steps will be directly taken to place them in the family vault, as they cannot bear the idea of a pauper’s funeral.
The most horrible subject has, however, a ludicrous side, and the idea of the decomposed remains objecting to parochial interference is as dreadfully funny as the matter generally is dreadfully shocking. In another notice, five years later, there is, as it were, a plaintive moan, the cry of a weak and distressed woman, who has no “strong mind” to enable her to bear up against infidelity and loss. Listen to it:—
THE one-winged Dove must die unless the Crane returns to be a shield against her enemies.
Far different is the next, which is a couple of years later, and which displays as much strength of purpose and self-dependence as its forerunner betrays weakness:—
IT is enough; one man alone upon earth have I found noble. Away from me for ever! Cold heart and mean spirit, you have lost what millions—empires—could not have bought, but which a single word truthfully and nobly spoken might have made your own to all eternity. Yet are you forgiven: depart in peace: I rest in my Redeemer.