4844. 8 5227 51 0214 9371144 48440 23781. 8 0426 021 52 326352 08585

12 8459 42116 021 88354 505449 59144 632244. 31 8355 7449 021 8543 526 021 3101 95270 1851 31 5430 544 42126 021. 726 85400 021. Which, errors included, reads: “Flo, thou voice of my heart, I am so lonely. I miss you more than ever. I look at your picture every night. I send you an Indian shawl to wrap rou_t_d you while asleep after dinner. It will keep you warm, and you must fancy that m_t_ arms are round you. God bless you.” Two days afterwards the next appears, though the translation hardly gives a substantial reason for the repetition:-- FLO.--184 5501 850 84227 8 449451 31. 1821 82374 29 30 84541 8 53 02 522450. 8 3300 021 3244 1852 4844. 8 5227 51 0214 9371144 48140 23781. 8 0426 021 52 326352 08585 12 8459 42126 021 88354 505449 59144 63224 31 8355 7449 021 8543 526 021 3101 95270 1851 30 5430 544 42126 021. 726 85400 021. 828 8 62 5284 021. This makes: “Flo, the last was wrong, I repeat it. Thou voice of my heart, I am so lonely. I miss you more than ever. I look at your picture ev_u_ry night. I send you an Indian shawl to wrap round you while asleep after dinn_r_. It will keep you warm, and you must fancy my arms are round you. God bless you. How I do love you!” It will be hard to discover, if the last was wrong, how this can be right, as for each error he corrects he makes another. Then we go on to the new year, and on January 2 recommence with the following:-- FLO.--30 282 5284 853 85990 57532 31 30 5374 5857327 9423 5 856 64453. 021 544 30 5334 12 7228 1851 18444 305 785274 29 044327 021 12 8454 9423 021 12 62 183270 12 422178. 8 08555 140 526 044 021 0222 84314 12 34 50 29142 50 021 752 726 85400 021 1821 82174 29 30 84541. Difficulties seem to have been removed by this time, for when the magic of the key has been tried upon it the advertisement just quoted says this: “Flo, my own love, I am happy again; it is like awakening from a bad dream. You are, my li_m_e [? life], to know that there is a chance of seeing you, to hear from you, to do things to enough [there is an evident bungle here]. I shall try and see you soon. Write to me as often as you can. God bless you, thou vo_u_ce of my heart!” The wise men who had been content to understand this so far, now thought it time that these turtle-doves should know they were not so wise as they supposed, and that their cipher was being read regularly. So on January 6 the _Times_ contained the following:-- FLO.--1821 82374 29 39 84541. 828 8 62 5284 021. 828 544 021 08555 021 84 5536 19 1830 094 327. 8 752 044 021 8557327 8318 0214 6545327 8851 8 82156 7384 12 84 8318 021. 185270 924 0314 5501 541144 8 9454 2218327 811 0495 451322 9423 021 021 544 30 82456 30 5394 30 8294. 1821 3244 1852 5394 95448455 726 85400 021. 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. The reader can imagine the flashing eyes and indignant face of a proud and wronged woman, as this is read; and it might well be taken as the text for a whole volume of a modern novel. The next which we select is still from the _Times_, and appeared several days in succession in February 1853. It forms a good companion to that which precedes it: TO M. L. L.--M. L. L., you have chosen your own lot: may it be a happy one! and if it be so I would not have you think of the desolate heart you leave behind; but oh! my child, if sorrow should ever overtake you, if you should find, when too late, that you have been leaning on a broken reed; then, my Maria, come back to her whose heart has ever cherished you; she will always be ready to receive you. Maybe M. L. L. has proved herself devoid of gratitude, and left a kind home to follow the fortunes of some adventurer. But the good heart of the advertiser does not turn sour, nor does she give vent to repining; and so even in advertisements do we see the finest as well as the worst sides of human nature. In the same paper that contained the address just given we stumbled across one of the most laconic notices ever seen. It says-- IF H. R. will Return, I will forgive him. E. R. This is evidently from a relenting parent, whose sternness has been subdued by the continued absence of his prodigal. Most likely the latter returned, and went away again as soon as “the guv’nor” showed signs of resuming sway. And so on through one of those wretched dramas with which all people must be acquainted, in which the principal characters are a broken-hearted mother, a worn-out and prematurely old father, and an utterly demoralised, drunken, and perhaps dishonest son, who is most likely a brutal husband as well. Of quite another kind is this, which is also from the _Times_:-- TO EQUATOR.--Fortuna audaces juvat. Vincit omnia veritas.--E. W. As we have before remarked, the newspapers of to-day give us no such specimens of secret and mysterious advertising as those we have unearthed, although the opportunities are far more numerous than--and we presume the occasions quite as frequent as--they were twenty years ago, for every daily paper, and a good many of the weeklies, now keep special columns for the display of private announcements. Quite unique, however, in its way is one which appeared in _Lloyd’s_ half-a-dozen years ago. It says that =HARRIET AND HARRY COMPTON= ARE well.--124, Stamford-street, Lambeth. The ignorance may be crass, but we are bound to confess that even now we are not aware of the claims upon publicity of Mr and Mrs Compton. The information is given in style worthy of a royal bulletin, and doubtless it much interested all whom it may have concerned. A very faint attempt at cryptography is made in an advertisement which appeared comparatively recently in one of the penny papers, the writer of which must have had great faith in the dulness of the British public if he thought that backward writing would not be at once detected. This is it:-- LUCKY 6d. and 4d.!!--Came back by train a few minutes after meeting you that forenoon, the only real reason for my coming. Always the same feeling for you as expressed. Od etirw ecno ot pihs ot yas uoy evah nees siht. Quite efas Rolias. Will sometimes advertise. The next is a specimen of the present day, and is from the _Times_. Want of logical consequence is its chief characteristic:-- CANNOT mistake the decision of continued exceeding courtesy. Awaited, but could not identify. Forgive, dear, if I have been too superstitious. ’Tis the first fault, though twice repeated, and you still hold the lash. Readers may possibly remember two rather singular advertisements which appeared in the _Telegraph_ quite recently, and were full of gratitude to the firm which had unwittingly led to a pleasant if questionable acquaintance between two persons. After this luncheon-baskets will probably be carried by all gentlemen anxious for adventure--that is, when they travel on lines the authorities of which graciously permit their caterers to supply them. Here is the first:-- THE lady who travelled from Bedford to London by Midland train on the night of the 4th inst., can now MEET the GENTLEMAN who shared with her the contents of his railway luncheon basket. She enjoys the recollection of that pleasant meal, and would like to know if he is going on another journey. Will keep any appointment made at the Criterion in Piccadilly.--Answer to A. The application seems to have had the desired effect, for a day or two afterwards this was published:-- A. will meet you at the Criterion, on Wednesday, at three. Am going on another journey shortly, and will provide luncheon-basket.--F. M. Any one who has travelled a distance by Midland or any other of the lines supplied with refreshments by Spiers & Pond, must have noted what a great boon to the traveller is the well-stocked basket, which can be taken in full at one station and delivered out wholly or partially empty, according as appetite serves, at another. Yet the luncheon-basket is a very small item in the revolutionisers’ total. Those who have suffered under the old system of railway refreshments, will admit that Spiers & Pond fully deserve whatever credit has been given them for their efforts in the public interest. Ten years ago no man in his senses would have dreamt of applying for food or drink at a railway buffet while he could go elsewhere; now Spiers & Pond daily serve thousands who desert the old familiar taverns and crowd the bars at the various City stations. Among the many great feats in the way of providing for the hungry and the thirsty performed by this firm is one which has claims for particular notice, as it is told in an official report of a Wimbledon meeting. For the camping-time the following is the record: Of bread there were eaten 25,000 lbs.; of butter 3 tons; of cheese 1 ton; of bacon 11 cwt.; of hams 3 tons; of eggs 23,350; of rolls 52,677; of flour 36 sacks; of tea 1967 lbs.; and of coffee 2240 lbs.; 15 tons weight of meat were eaten, and 1446 fowls, with 626 ducklings, and 304 goslings. In the way of fish, the consumption of salmon reached 6200 lbs., with 1667 soles, 400 turbot, 80 brill, and 2330 lobsters. Vegetables were devoured to the amount of 12 tons, to which must be added 40,000 lettuces and 500 quarts of shelled peas. In fancy pastry 5000 pieces were made, with 1120 lbs. of biscuits, and 2460 quarts of cream and water ice. Add to these 720 baskets of strawberries, 75 lbs. of grapes, 400 pine-apples, 287 tongues, 10,800 bottles of aerated waters, 896 plus 522 gallons of wine, 130 dozen and 312 gallons of spirits, 348 hogsheads of beer, 275 lbs. of tobacco, 300 boxes of cigars, 67 gallons of salad oil, 1½ hogshead of vinegar, 150 lbs. of mustard, 6000 gallons of claret cup, 13 cases of lemons, 84 tons of ice brought direct from the ship’s side from Norway, 33 gallons of various sauces, 120 gallons of pickles, 25,000 sandwiches, 24 tons of sugar, 30 cwt. of currants, and 25,000 lbs. of “Volunteer” plumcake. In addition to these, large quantities of wines, spirits, &c., were supplied to sutlers, messmen, and volunteers. On subsequent occasions, when, for reasons best known to themselves, the Rifle Association has provided its own commissariat, it has been discovered that the efforts of Spiers & Pond were by no means overpraised at the time, and that the laudatory notices received by the men who came from Australia to teach the mother country a profitable lesson were well deserved. Spiers & Pond have, it is true, met ample recognition from the press; yet now and again those gentlemen who consider it the whole duty of a journalist to sneer at everybody and everything have had their usual fling, and have written about pretentious eating-house keepers, forgetful of the fact that a dozen years or so ago they were crying their eyes out because the weary traveller in Great Britain could nowhere find the accommodation he was so anxious to pay for. We have been careful not to stray into the opposite extreme, though a long course of railway journeying under the old _régime_ of mouldy pork-pies and stale Banbury cakes has made us feel very well disposed to a firm whose name has already passed into a proverb. Some little interest was exhibited in the annexed, which appeared in the _Times_ a few weeks back, and, according to the side espoused, looks like just indignation or brutal intolerance:-- SHOULD this meet the eye of the lady who got into the 12.30 train at New Cross Station on Friday, May 15, with two boys, one of whom was evidently just recovering from an illness, she may be pleased to learn that three of the four young ladies who were in the carriage are very ill with the measles, and the health of the fourth is far from what her relations could desire. It has been quite the fashion to say how wrong it was of the lady with the sick boys to get into a train and spread infection; and nobody seems to have thought that the poor lads wanted change of air--had perhaps been ordered it. As no special provision is made for the travelling sick--or for the matter of that, for the travelling healthy--the fault, if fault there be, lies not with the mother, who was anxious for the recovery of her children, but with the railway authorities. Judging from the tone of the advertisement, we should think that the advertiser would have resented any interference had his or her young ladies been travelling as invalids, instead of being in that state of health which is most subject to the attacks of disease. The case is hard, argued from either side, but it seems very unfair to cast the blame all one way. The last example we shall give of this kind of advertising shows that extended space is used for “personals,” without any extension of interest, the following being but a mild kind of raving on the part of a weak-minded man after an obstinate woman. It appeared early during the present year (1874) in the _Telegraph_:-- MARY ANN C.--Do return home. You labour under an illusion. What you wish to accuse me with does not exist. This I solemnly declare. I have at last a good position, but am so wretched that I cannot attend to my duties properly. Many happier returns of the 1st. God’s blessing be with thee, and that He may tend thy heart to believe me in truth. Put six years of love and happiness against your accusation, and you must feel that you are wrong. Oh, you are very, very wrong. Do write and give me an appointment, so that happiness may be re-established. You must be very unhappy, but for God’s sake do not be so strong-minded. My love and devotion are unaltered. For your own peace, my sweet, pretty, good wife, come back. When death parts it is sad enough, but to part while living, and without true cause, creates and leaves wretchedness to both. Come back to your unhappy but true-loving husband. These last extracts are quite sufficient to show the style which now obtains in this class of advertisements, and to prove that what a score of years ago promised to be a never-ending source of amusement has become sadly deficient of its original properties. Familiar to many people, among curious announcements, will be the following, which is one of many similar that have from time to time appeared in the leading journal:-- THE CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER acknowledges the receipt of the first halves of two £10 notes, conscience-money, for unpaid Income-Tax. The man who sends conscience-money for income-tax must have been virtuous indeed, if the evasion of that impost has been through life his worst sin. There are many otherwise estimable persons whose greatest pride it is that they have never paid income-tax unless compelled. Yet these men have in ordinary matters the greatest abhorrence of anything mean or paltry, and their general conduct might be safely contrasted with that of the bestowers of conscience-money. So, after all, there is something more than a joke in the humourist’s idea of a grand new patriotic song called “Never pay your taxes till you’re summoned, my boys!” Those who wear artificial teeth must have been now and again indescribably shocked by advertisements like the following, which, scarce a short time back, are getting more and more frequent, so that what at first appeared a revolting riddle to the many, may have now developed into a lucrative pursuit for the few. Is it right to suppose that new sets of teeth are made up from second-hand materials? If so, how horrible! WANTED to PURCHASE some OLD ARTIFICIAL TEETH. Persons having the above to sell can apply, with the teeth, or, if forwarded by post their value will be sent per return.--Mr ----. Theatrical advertisements are, as has been remarked, often very funny, and whether from ignorance on the part of the writers, or the prevalence of technology, the columns of the _Era_ absolutely teem with startling notices, which when coupled with the really remarkable as well as “original” correspondence, and the provincial critiques, make the chief theatrical organ one of the most genuine among comic papers, and this is none the less so because the _Era’s_ comicality is unintentional. A fair specimen of the general style is given in an advertisement appearing in March 1874, and if our reproducing it will be of any use to Messrs Gonza & Volta, they are quite welcome. In fact it would be sad to think that such an effort should go unrewarded:-- Nil Admirari. GONZA and VOLTA!!! GONZA and VOLTA!!! GONZA and VOLTA!!! The Modern Hercules and Achilles. The Goliathan Gymnasts. The Champions of Olympia Resuscitated. The greatest Athletes since the Christian Era. M. DE GONZA, the famous Mexican Athlete of the Golden Wing and Olympic Club; also of Crystal Palace, Cirques Napoleon and de l’Imperatrice celebrity, and late Proprietor of Gonza’s Transatlantic Combination Company, has much pleasure in announcing that the Colossal Sensation he is about submitting to the World’s criticism is in course of progression, and that he has secured the services of EDOUIN VOLTA, the grandest Aerial Bar Performer of the period, who will have the honour of making his First Appearance in England in conjunction with M. DE GONZA’S New Aerial Athletic Performance. M. DE GONZA, without desiring to eulogise, prognosticates that his coming achievement will introduce an astonishing epoch in gymnastics. In ancient days mythological conceptions were framed by senile philosophers for the wonder and delectation of the inhabitants of the world B.C., more particularly during the existence of Rome under the Empire, when the stupendous Colosseum lived in its glory, and where myriads witnessed the famous gladiatorial combats. In those mighty days of heroism, when the great pan-Hellenic festivals were held, every fourth year in Olympia, instituted by Iphitus, King of Elis, the ninth century B.C., when Athletic revels and Icarian games were as prevalent as cigar smoking in this generation, people were more prone to countenance the possible existence and marvellous exploits of the gods and goddesses. Evanescent ages have flown by, and in the sentiments of millions there now subsists a certain amount of familiarity with the intrepid and valiant deeds of those illustrious mythological gods Hercules and Achilles. They have been quoted and spoken of so often that their fictitiousness is forgotten. They have ingratiated their fabulous selves into the good graces of mankind, and become entwined around their minds like the ivy around the gnarled and knotted oak; and, although centuries have passed away, this nurtured concatenation of deep-rooted imaginations have not proven altogether futile, for these legendary and dauntless heroes actually do exist in the persons of GONZA and VOLTA, The Cyclopean Athletes of the Age. Anchorites, ascetics, persons of secluded and fastidious natures, stoics, and misanthropists, all will be metamorphosed into congenial spirits, and be reconciled to the world and its pleasures after witnessing these gigantillos and wonders of creation in the most surprising and surpassingly elegant gymnastic exhibition hitherto placed before an appreciative nation, the production of which due notice will be given. Meanwhile all communications are to be addressed to M. DE GONZA, ----. Turning from such extremely professional exponents of art and literature, we are reminded of one who stands in quite an opposite position to that of the Cyclopean athletes, Dr Vellère, the champion and foremost representative of the “unacted and unread,” of the theorists who would regenerate the drama with their own works, and, if they could only once be performed, would mark an epoch in the history of the stage. Doubtless they would. About five years ago the enthusiastic Doctor--who, being a foreigner, has a perfect right to regenerate the British drama, as well as the British Constitution--burst forth in the _Times_, and at once placed himself at the head of that glorious minority which, owing to the iniquitous “ring” formed by a clique of authors, managers, and critics, cannot get its plays, marvellously good as they are, produced; and thus not only they, but the great British public are sufferers under a system which Vellère & Co. will yet expose or perish in the attempt. The first advertisement of the regenerator appeared on October 2, 1869. It ran thus:-- TO the PATRONS of the LEGITIMATE DRAMA and to the PLAY-GOING PUBLIC in GENERAL. Ladies and Gentlemen,--As a general outcry arose some considerable time ago that there was a great dearth of good, original English dramas, and as the recent so-called original productions of English dramatists have failed to stifle it--because they have either traduced English society or have been simply adaptations from the French respecting a state of society which cannot exist here, and in both cases have proved unpalatable to the English, and, therefore, unsuccessful--I, who am a writer in more than one language, resolved to produce a drama on purely English topics, and I was guided by the dictum of your immortal poet, Byron, that “Truth is stranger than fiction,” because all fictitious situations prove less “sensational” (pardon me the vernacular), as produced by those dramatists, with all the powerful accessories and machinery of the stage, than the simplest police report from the daily papers. It took me more than a year of my half-holidays to write the drama “Stern Realities,” and in about five months I wrote the play “Trust.” Now, I have been trying for the last eighteen months to have one of these pieces accepted, but all my endeavours have been in vain. The excuse was, that I am not known (a circumstance which, by-the-by, happened once to Shakespeare also), and that it is far preferable to produce the works of authors already known to the public, even if their more recent efforts have proved a failure in more than one respect. It is now for the public of this great country to decide whether this arrangement between Managers of Theatres and a certain small clique of authors is a monopoly that is to go on for ever; or whether it is only a false and preconceived notion on the part of the former regarding the want of good taste for superior productions on the part of the public. Though I am a foreigner I consider myself as one of the public who has endeavoured to amuse his fellow-citizens, but to whom no opportunity has hitherto been afforded. However, as the author of a collection of songs, of which some are written in English, French, and German, or English and German, or simply in English poetry, and which volume is entitled “Honi soit qui mal y pense,” and was collectively dedicated to the Queen, and accepted by her Majesty, containing dedications also, by special commission, to ladies of the highest titles, and to others equally exalted in attainments, I beg you to believe me, when I assure you, on the word of a gentleman, author, and schoolmaster, that the two pieces I have written will meet with your approbation. I appeal now to you, ladies and gentlemen, to assist me in bringing out one of the two pieces; and, in my humble opinion, the most effectual way, perhaps, in which this could be done, would be in addressing me a note, kindly informing me which of the two pieces, “Stern Realities” or “Trust,” should in your opinion be performed first, and that you promise you will come to see either or both. Receiving thus from you a great quantity of letters, I shall, armed with such a phalanx of patronage, present myself as the bearer of the popular will to the Manager of one of the London Theatres, and--we shall see! A letter simply addressed thus, “Dr. Vellère, Harrow,” will safely reach me. Trusting to hear from you at your earliest convenience, I remain, ladies and gentlemen, very faithfully yours, E. R. W. VELLERE. The English and Continental College, Harrow, October 1st, 1869. Before the attention directed to this novelty in literature had died away, another similar effusion appeared, and for about a twelvemonth the _Times_ contained every three or four weeks a message of direful import from Dr Vellère on dramatic monopoly and its probable ultimate effect on dramatic literature and the stage generally, varied by requests similar to those given here. Iniquity was still triumphant, however, and the patrons of the legitimate must have been unwilling to interfere, for at the end of the year Dr Vellère was yet unacted. He is still busy writing plays, for he believes that success must come in the end; and if his literary ability be in any way proportioned to his pertinacity, the chief of the Elizabethan roll of dramatists has at last met a worthy rival. Happily there is a way out of the difficulty with which Dr Vellère and his friends are encompassed. Let them take a theatre, engage actors, and play each other’s dramas in turn. If they can only agree as to the order of production, and the relative merits of the pieces, they are sure to succeed; for if our experience goes for anything, the unacted and unread are sufficiently numerous to support any house of moderate pretensions. But they mustn’t all want to be put on the free list. That great distinction must be left for Dr Vellère and a chosen few--composed, say, of friendly critics, and managers distraught with the knowledge that priceless gems have been discarded, and that the new era has at last arrived. [34] The letter written by the sailor with the artificial hands to the printer of the _Caledonian Mercury_. [35] Our information of this advertisement, and the clue to its explanation, was, as already stated, obtained from an article in the _Quarterly Review_. On reference to the _Times_ to discover whether the Jefferies portion was right or not, we could not for a long time find the particular notice we were in search of. At last, after the above was written, under date February 10, it was found; and then we saw that the word was “Jfhiiwola,” which subjected to the process as above, will give the required name. We have preferred to explain this in full, as the _Quarterly_ is undoubtedly entitled to the merit of deciphering the puzzle, if not to anything else; and any alteration or correction of ours would have detracted from such merit, which is original, and without which the quaint libel might still have remained in obscurity. Besides, it shows how a small printer’s error may spoil the calculations of a week, in matters like this.