Chapter XLVI: A domestic picture is given, an interior, with the (2)

Ecus soleil dessus moi elle a pris,
M’entretenant sous manière rusée;
Et quand je veux chez elle faire entrée,
Me dit que suis entrée tous mal appris
En souriant.

BONAPARTEAN CYPHER.

The following is a key to the cypher in which Napoleon Bonaparte carried on his private correspondence:—

A │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
B │ n │ o │ p │ q │ r │ s │ t │ u │ w │ x │ y │ z
───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
C │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
D │ z │ n │ o │ p │ q │ r │ s │ t │ u │ w │ x │ y
───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
E │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
F │ y │ z │ n │ o │ p │ q │ r │ s │ t │ u │ w │ x
───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
G │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
H │ x │ y │ z │ n │ o │ p │ q │ r │ s │ t │ u │ w
───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
I │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
K │ w │ x │ y │ z │ n │ o │ p │ q │ r │ s │ t │ u
───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
L │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
M │ u │ w │ x │ y │ z │ n │ o │ p │ q │ r │ s │ t
───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
N │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
O │ t │ u │ w │ x │ y │ z │ n │ o │ p │ q │ r │ s
───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
P │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
Q │ s │ t │ u │ w │ x │ y │ z │ n │ o │ p │ q │ r
───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
R │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
S │ r │ s │ t │ u │ w │ x │ y │ z │ n │ o │ p │ q
───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
T │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
U │ q │ r │ s │ t │ u │ w │ x │ y │ z │ n │ o │ p
───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
W │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
X │ p │ q │ r │ s │ t │ u │ w │ x │ y │ z │ n │ o
───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
Y │ a │ b │ c │ d │ e │ f │ g │ h │ i │ k │ l │ m
Z │ o │ p │ q │ r │ s │ t │ u │ w │ x │ y │ z │ n

The subjoined is a proclamation, in cypher, from Bonaparte to the French army; a copy of which was in the hands of one or more persons in almost every regiment in the service.

PROCLAMATION.

Neyiptwhklmopenclziuwicetttklmeprtgzkp
Achwhrdpkdabkfntzimepunggwymgftgq
Efdesronwxqfkzxbchqnfmysnqangopolfa
PmmfampabJarwccqznauruvzskqdknh
Hihydghbailxdfqkngtxyogwrlnlwtoy
Pbcizopbgairfgkpzawrwlqipdgacrkff
mwzfcrgpech.

The same deciphered by means of the table and key:—

“Français! votre pays étoit trahi; votre Empereur seul peut vous
remettre dans la position splendide que convient à la France. Donnez
toute votre confiance à celui qui vous a toujours conduit a la gloire.
Ses aigles pleniront encore en l’air et étonneront les nations.”

Frenchmen! your country was betrayed; your Emperor alone can replace
you in the splendid state suitable to France. Give your entire
confidence to him who has always led you to glory. His eagles will
again soar on high and strike the nations with astonishment.

The key (which, it will be seen, may be changed at pleasure) was in this instance “La France et ma famille,” France and my family. It is thus used:—

L being the first letter of the key, refer to that letter in the first column of the cypher in capitals; then look for the letter _f_, which is the first letter of the proclamation, and that letter which corresponds with _f_ being placed underneath, viz., _n_, is that which is to be noted down. To decipher the proclamation, of course the order of reference must be inverted, by looking for the corresponding letter to _n_ in the division opposite that letter L which stands in the column.

CASE FOR THE LAWYERS.

X. Y. applies to A. B. to become a law pupil, offering to pay him the customary fee as soon as he shall have gained his _first suit in law_. To this A. B. formally agrees, and admits X. Y. to the privileges of a student. Before the termination of X. Y.’s pupilage, however, A. B. gets tired of waiting for his money, and determines to sue X. Y. for the amount. He reasons thus:—If I gain this case, X. Y. will be compelled to pay me by the decision of the court; if I lose it, he will have to pay me by the condition of our contract, he having won his first lawsuit. But X. Y. need not be alarmed when he learns A. B.’s intention, for he may reason similarly. He may say,—If I succeed, and the award of the court is in my favor, of course I shall not have to pay the money; if the court decides against me, I shall not have to pay it, according to the terms of our contract, as I shall not yet have gained my first suit in law. _Vive la logique._

SIR ISAAC NEWTON’S RIDDLE.

Four persons sat down at a table to play,
They played all that night and part of next day.
It must be observed that when they were seated,
Nobody played with them, and nobody betted;
When they rose from the place, each was winner a guinea.
Now tell me this riddle, and prove you’re no ninny.

COWPER’S RIDDLE.

I am just two and two, I am warm, I am cold,
And the parent of numbers that cannot be told;
I am lawful, unlawful,—a duty, a fault,
I am often sold dear, good for nothing when bought,
An extraordinary boon, and a matter of course,
And yielded with pleasure—when taken by force.

CANNING’S RIDDLE.

There is a word of plural number,
A foe to peace and human slumber:
Now, any word you chance to take,
By adding S, you plural make;
But if you add an S to this,
How strange the metamorphosis!
Plural is plural then no more,
And sweet, what bitter was before.

THE PRIZE ENIGMA.

The following enigma was found in the will of Miss Anna Seward (the Swan of Lichfield), with directions to pay £50 to the person who should discover the solution. When competition for the prize was exhausted, it was discovered to be a curtailed copy of a rebus published in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, March, 1757, and at that time attributed to Lord Chesterfield.

The noblest object in the works of art,
The brightest scenes which nature can impart;
The well-known signal in the time of peace,
The point essential in a tenant’s lease;
The farmer’s comfort as he drives the plough,
A soldier’s duty, and a lover’s vow;
A contract made before the nuptial tie,
A blessing riches never can supply;
A spot that adds new charms to pretty faces,
An engine used in fundamental cases;
A planet seen between the earth and sun,
A prize that merit never yet has won;
A loss which prudence seldom can retrieve,
The death of Judas, and the fall of Eve;
A part between the ankle and the knee,
A papist’s toast, and a physician’s fee;
A wife’s ambition, and a parson’s dues,
A miser’s idol, and the badge of Jews.

If now your happy genius can divine
The correspondent words in every line,
By the first letter plainly may be found
An ancient city that is much renowned.

QUINCY’S COMPARISON.

Josiah Quincy, in the course of a speech in Congress, in 1806, on the embargo, used the following language:—

They who introduced it abjured it. They who advocated it did not wish, and scarcely knew, its use. And now that it is said to be extended over us, no man in this nation, who values his reputation, will take his Bible oath that it is in effectual and legal operation. There is an old riddle on a coffin, which I presume we all learned when we were boys, that is as perfect a representation of the origin, progress, and present state of this thing called non-intercourse, as it is possible to be conceived:—

There was a man bespoke a thing,
Which when the maker home did bring,
That same maker did refuse it,—
The man that spoke for it did not use it,—
And he who had it did not know
Whether he had it, yea or no.

True it is, that if this non-intercourse shall ever be, in reality, subtended over us, the similitude will fail in a material point. The poor tenant of the coffin is ignorant of his state. But the people of the United States will be literally buried alive in non-intercourse, and realize the grave closing on themselves and on their hopes, with a full and cruel consciousness of all the horrors of their condition.

SINGULAR INTERMARRIAGES.

There were married at Durham, Canada East, an old lady and gentleman, involving the following interesting connections:—

The old gentleman is married to his daughter’s husband’s mother-in-law, and his daughter’s husband’s wife’s mother. And yet she is not his daughter’s mother; but she is his grandchildren’s grandmother, and his wife’s grandchildren are his daughter’s step-children. Consequently the old lady is united in the bonds of holy matrimony and conjugal affection to her daughter’s brother-in-law’s father-in-law, and her great-grandchildren’s grandmother’s step-father; so that her son-in-law may say to his children, Your grandmother is married to my father-in-law, and yet he is not your grandfather; but he is your grandmother’s son-in-law’s wife’s father. This gentleman married his son-in-law’s father-in-law’s wife, and he is bound to support and protect her for life. His wife is his son-in-law’s children’s grandmother, and his son-in-law’s grandchildren’s great-grandmother.

A Mr. Harwood had two daughters by his first wife, the eldest of whom was married to John Coshick; this Coshick had a daughter by his first wife, whom old Harwood married, and by her he had a son; therefore, John Coshick’s second wife could say as follows:—

My father is my son, and I’m my mother’s mother;
My sister is my daughter, and I’m grandmother to my brother.

PROPHETIC DISTICH.

In the year 1531, the following couplet was found written on the wall behind the altar of the Augustinian monastery at Gotha, when the building was taken down:—

MC quadratum, LX quoque duplicatum,
ORAPS peribit et Huss Wiclefque redibit.

MC quadratum is MCCCC, i.e. 1400. LX duplicatum is LLXX, i.e. 120 = 1520. ORAPS is an abbreviation for _ora pro nobis_ (pray for us). The meaning is, that in the sixteenth century praying to the saints will cease, and Huss and Wickliffe will again be recognized.

THE NUMBER OF THE BEAST.

VIC_AR_IV_S_ _F_ILII D_E_I.
5 + 1 + 100 + 1 + 5 + 1 + 50 + 1 + 1 + 500 + 1 = 666.

Among the curious things extant in relation to Luther is the covert attempt of an ingenious theological opponent to make him the apocalyptic beast or antichrist described in Revelation ch. xiii. The mysterious number of the beast, “six hundred threescore and six,” excited the curiosity of mankind at a very early period, particularly that of Irenæus, in the second century, who indulged in a variety of shrewd conjectures on the subject. But after discovering the number in several names, he modestly says, “Yet I venture not to pronounce positively concerning the name of antichrist, for, had it been intended to be openly proclaimed to the present generation, it would have been uttered by the same person who saw the revelation.” A later expositor, Fevardent, in his Notes on Irenæus, adds to the list the name of Martin Luther, which, he says, was originally written Martin Lauter. “Initio vocabatur _Martin Lauter_,” says Fevardent; “cujus nominis literas si Pythagorice et ratione subducas et more Hebræorum et Græcorum alphabeti crescat numerus, primo monadum, deinde decadum, hinc centuriarum, numerus nominis Bestiæ, id est, 666, tandem perfectum comperies, hoc pacto.”

M 30 L 20
A 1 A 1
R 80 U 200
T 100 T 100
I 9 E 5
N 40 R 80
Total, 666.

It is but just to Fevardent, however, to observe that he subsequently gave the preference to _Maometis_.

GALILEO’S LOGOGRAPH.

Galileo was the first to observe a peculiarity in the planet Saturn, but his telescope had not sufficient refractive power to separate the rings. It appeared to him like three bodies arranged in the same straight line, of which the middle was the largest, thus, ⚬⚪⚬. He announced his discovery to Kepler under the veil of a logograph, which sorely puzzled his illustrious cotemporary. This is not to be wondered at, for it ran—

Smasmrmilmepoetalevmibvnienvgttaviras.

Restoring the transposed letters to their proper places, we have the following sentence:—

Altissimum planetam tergeminum observavi.

(I have observed the most distant planet to be threefold.)

PERSIAN RIDDLES.

Between a thick-set hedge of bones,
A small red dog now barks, now moans.
®“A human tongue!”®
®The answer rung,—®

A soul above it,
And a soul below,
With leather between,
And swift it doth go.
®On horse, with man a-straddle.®
®The answer is a _saddle_.®

CHINESE TEA SONG.

Punch has favored the world with the following song, sung before her Britannic Majesty by a Chinese lady. It looks rather difficult at first; but if the reader studies it attentively, he will see how easy it is to read Chinese:—

Ohc ometo th ete asho pwit hme,
Andb uya po undo f thebe st,
’Twillpr oveam ostex cellentt ea,
Itsq ua lit yal lwi lla tte st.

’Tiso nlyf oursh illi ngs apo und,
Soc omet othet eama rtan dtry,
Nob etterc anel sewh erebefou nd,
Ort hata nyoth er needb uy.

DEATH AND LIFE.

cur f w d dis and p
A sed iend rought eath ease ain.
bles fr b br and ag

THE REBUS.

Ben Jonson, in his play _The Alchemist_, takes an opportunity of ridiculing the Rebus, among the other follies of his day which he so trenchantly satirizes. When Abel Drugger, the simple tobacconist, applies to the impostor Subtle to invent for him a sign-board that will magically attract customers to his shop, the cheat says to his confederate, in presence of their admiring dupe,—

I will have his name
Formed in some mystic character, whose radii,
Striking the senses of the passers-by,
Shall, by a virtual influence, breed affections
That may result upon the party owns it.
As thus: He first shall have a _bell_—that’s _Abel_;
And by it standing one whose name is _Dee_,
In a _rug_ gown; there’s _D_ and _rug_—that’s _Drug_;
And right anenst him a dog snarling _er_—
There’s _Drugger_. §Abel Drugger§, that’s his sign,
And here’s now mystery and hieroglyphic.

A motto of the Bacon family in Somersetshire has an ingenious rebus,—

§ProBa-conScientia§;

the capitals, thus placed, giving it the double reading, Proba conscientia, and Pro Bacon Scientia.

WHAT IS IT?

A Headless man had a letter to write;
’Twas read by one who lost his Sight;
The Dumb repeated it word for word,
And he was Deaf who listened and heard.

THE BOOK OF RIDDLES.

The Book of Riddles alluded to by Shakspeare in the Merry Wives of Windsor (Act I. sc. I) is mentioned by Laneham, 1575, and in the English Courtier, 1586; but the earliest edition of this popular collection now preserved is dated 1629. It is entitled The _Booke of Merry Riddles, together with proper Questions and witty Proverbs to make pleasant pastime; no less usefull then behovefull for any young man or child, to know if he be quick-witted or no_. The following extract from this very rare work will be found interesting.

_Here beginneth the first Riddle._

Two legs sat upon three legs, and had one leg in her hand; then in came foure legs, and bare away one leg; then up start two legs, and threw three legs at foure legs, and brought again one leg.

_Solution._—That is, a woman with two legs sate on a stoole with three legs, and had a leg of mutton in her hand; then came a dog that hath foure legs, and bare away the leg of mutton; then up start the woman, and threw the stoole with three legs at the dog with foure legs, and brought again the leg of mutton.

_The Second Riddle._

He went to the wood and caught it,
He sate him down and sought it;
Because he could not finde it,
Home with him he brought it.

_Solution._—That is a thorne: for a man went to the wood and caught a thorne in his foote, and then he sate him downe, and sought to have it pulled out, and because he could not find it out, he must needs bring it home.

_The_ iii. _Riddle._

What work is that, the faster ye worke, the longer it is ere ye have done, and the slower ye worke, the sooner ye make an end?

_Solution._—That is turning of a spit; for if ye turne fast, it will be long ere the meat be rosted, but if ye turne slowly, the sooner it is rosted.

_The_ iv. _Riddle._

What is that that shineth bright all day, and at night is raked up in its own dirt?

_Solution._—That is the fire, that burneth bright all the day; and at night is raked up in his ashes.

_The_ v. _Riddle._

I have a tree of great honour,
Which tree beareth both fruit and flower;
Twelve branches this tree hath nake,
Fifty [_sic_] nests therein he make,
And every nest hath birds seaven;
Thankéd be the King of Heaven;
And every bird hath a divers name:
How may all this together frame?

_Solution._—The tree is the yeare; the twelve branches be the twelve months; the fifty-two nests be the fifty-two weekes; the seven birds be the seven days in the weeke, whereof every one hath a divers name.

BISHOP WILBERFORCE’S PUZZLE.

“All pronounce me a wonderful piece of mechanism, and yet few people have numbered the strange medley of which I am composed. I have a large box and two lids, two caps, two musical instruments, a number of weathercocks, three established measures, some weapons of warfare, and a great many little articles that carpenters cannot do without; then I have about me a couple of esteemed fishes, and a great many of a smaller kind; two lofty trees, and the fruit of an indigenous plant; a handsome stag, and a great number of a smaller kind of game; two halls or places of worship, two students or rather scholars, the stairs of a hotel, and half a score of Spanish gentlemen to attend on me. I have what is the terror of the slave, also two domestic animals, and a number of negatives.”

§Reply.§—“Chest—eye-lids—kneecaps—drum of the ear—veins—hand, foot,
nail—arms—nails—soles of the feet—muscles—palms—apple—heart
(hart)—hairs (hares) temples—pupils—insteps—tendons (ten
Dons)—lashes—calves—nose (no’s.)”

CURIOSITIES OF CIPHER.

In 1680, when M. de Louvois was French Minister of War, he summoned before him one day, a gentleman named Chamilly, and gave him the following instructions:—

“Start this evening for Basle, in Switzerland, which you will reach in
three days; on the fourth, punctually at two o’clock, station yourself
on the bridge over the Rhine, with a portfolio, ink, and a pen. Watch
all that takes place, and make a memorandum of every particular.
Continue doing so for two hours; have a carriage and post-horses await
you; and at four precisely, mount and travel night and day till you
reach Paris. On the instant of your arrival, hasten to me with your
notes.”

De Chamilly obeyed; he reaches Basle, and on the day, and at the hour appointed, stations himself, pen in hand, on the bridge. Presently a market-cart drives by, then an old woman with a basket of fruit passes; anon, a little urchin trundles his hoop by; next an old gentlemen in blue top-coat jogs past on his gray mare. Three o’clock chimes from the cathedral-tower. Just at the last stroke, a tall fellow in yellow waistcoat and breeches saunters up, goes to the middle of the bridge, lounges over, and looks at the water; then he takes a step back and strikes three hearty blows on the footway with his staff. Down goes every detail in De Chamilly’s book. At last the hour of release sounds, and he jumps into his carriage. Shortly before midnight, after two days of ceaseless traveling, De Chamilly presented himself before the Minister, feeling rather ashamed at having such trifles to record. M. de Louvois took the portfolio with eagerness, and glanced over the notes. As his eye caught the mention of the yellow-breeched man, a gleam of joy flashed across his countenance. He rushed to the king, roused him from sleep, spoke in private with him for a few moments, and then four couriers, who had been held in readiness since five on the preceding evening, were dispatched with haste. Eight days after the town of Strasbourg was entirely surrounded by French troops, and summoned to surrender; it capitulated and threw open its gates on the 30th September, 1681. Evidently the three strokes of the stick given by the fellow in yellow costume, at an appointed hour, were the signal of the success of an intrigue concerted between M. de Louvois and the magistrates of Strasbourg, and the man who executed this mission was as ignorant of the motive as was M. de Chamilly of the motive of his errand.

Now this is a specimen of the safest of all secret communications; but it can only be resorted to on certain rare occasions. When a lengthy dispatch is required to be forwarded, and when such means as those given above are out of the question, some other method must be employed. Herodotus gives us a story to the point; it is found also, with variations, in Aulus Gellius:—

“Histiæus, when he was anxious to give Aristagoras orders to revolt,
could find but one safe way, as the roads were guarded, of making his
wishes known; which was by taking the trustiest of his slaves, shaving
all the hair from off his head, and then pricking letters upon the
skin, and waiting till the hair grew again. This accordingly he did;
and as soon as ever the hair was grown, he dispatched the man to
Miletus, giving him no other message than this: ‘When thou art come to
Miletus, bid Aristagoras shave thy head, and look thereon.’ Now the
marks on the head were a command to revolt.”—(Bk. V. 35.)

Is this case no cipher was employed. We shall come now to the use of ciphers.

When a dispatch or communication runs great risk of falling into the hands of the enemy, it is necessary that its contents should be so veiled that the possession of the document may afford him no information whatever. Julius Cæsar and Augustus used ciphers, but they were of the utmost simplicity, as they consisted merely in placing D in the place of A; E in that of B and so on; or else in writing B for A, and C for B, &c.

Secret characters were used at the Council of Nicæa; and Rabanus Maurus, Abbot of Fulda and Archbishop of Mayence, in the Ninth Century, has left us an example of two ciphers, the key to which was discovered by the Benedictines. It is only a wonder that any one could have failed to unravel them at the first glance. This is a specimen of the first:—

.Nc.p.tv:rs:.:sB::nf:c..:rch.gl::r::s.q:.::m:
rt.r.s

The clue to this is the suppression of the vowels and the filling of their places by dots—one for i, two for a, three for e, four for o, and five for u. In the second example, the same sentence would run—Knckpkt vfrsxs Bpnkfbckk, &c., the vowel places being filled by the consonants—b, f, k, p, x. By changing every letter in the alphabet, we make a vast improvement on this last; thus, for instance, supplying the place of a with z, b with x, c with v, and so on. This is the very system employed by an advertiser in a provincial paper, which we took up the other day in the waiting-room of a station, where it had been left by a farmer. As we had some minutes to spare, before the train was due, we spent them in deciphering the following:—

Jp Sjddjzbrza rzdd ci sijmr. Bziw rzdd xrndzt, and in ten minutes we read: “If William can call or write, Mary will be glad.”

When the Chevalier de Rohan was in the Bastile his friends wanted to convey to him the intelligence that his accomplice was dead without having confessed. They did so by passing the following words into his dungeon written on a shirt: “Mg dulhxecclgu ghj yxuj; lm et ulge alj.” In vain did he puzzle over the cipher, to which he had not the clue. It was too short; for the shorter a cipher letter, the more difficult it is to make out. The light faded, and he tossed on his hard bed, sleeplessly revolving the mystic letters in his brain; but he could make nothing out of them. Day dawned, and with its first gleam he was poring over them; still in vain. He pleaded guilty, for he could not decipher “_Le prisonnier est mort; il n’a rien dit_.”

A curious instance of cipher occurred at the close of the sixteenth century, when the Spaniards were endeavoring to establish relations between the scattered branches of their vast monarchy, which at that period embraced a large portion of Italy, the Low Countries, the Philippines, and enormous districts in the New World. They accordingly invented a cipher, which they varied from time to time, in order to disconcert those who might attempt to pry into the mysteries of their correspondence. The cipher, composed of fifty signs, was of great value to them through all the troubles of the “Ligue,” and the wars then desolating Europe. Some of their dispatches having been intercepted, Henry IV. handed them over to a clever mathematician, Viete, with the request that he would find the clue. He did so, and was able also to follow it as it varied, and France profited for two years by his discovery. The Court of Spain, disconcerted at this, accused Viete before the Roman Court as a sorcerer and in league with the devil. This proceeding only gave rise to laughter and ridicule.

* * * * *

A still more remarkable instance is that of a German professor, Herman, who boasted, in 1752, that he had discovered a cryptograph absolutely incapable of being deciphered without the clue being given by him; and he defied all the savants and learned societies of Europe to discover the key. However, a French refugee, named Beguelin, managed after eight days’ study to read it. The cipher—though we have the rules upon which it is formed before us—is to us perfectly unintelligible. It is grounded on some changes of numbers and symbols; the numbers vary, being at one time multiplied, at another added, and become so complicated that the letter _e_, which occurs nine times in the paragraph, is represented in eight different ways; _n_ is used eight times, and has seven various signs. Indeed, the same letter is scarcely ever represented by the same figure. But this is not all; the character which appears in the place of _i_ takes that of _n_ shortly after; another Symbol for _n_ stands also for _t_. How any man could have solved the mystery of this cipher is astonishing.

All these cryptographs consist in the exchange of numbers of characters for the real letters; but there are other methods quite as intricate, which dispense with them.

* * * * *

The mysterious cards of the Count de Vergennes are an instance. De Vergennes was Minister of Foreign Affairs under Louis XVI., and he made use of cards of a peculiar nature in his relations with the diplomatic agents of France. These cards were used in letters of recommendation or passports, which were given to strangers about to enter France; they were intended to furnish information without the knowledge of the bearers. This was the system. The card given to a man contained only a few words, such as:—

ALPHONSE D’ANGEHA,
Recommande a Monsieur
le Comte de Vergennes, par le Marquis de Puysegur, Ambassadeur
de France a la Cour de Lisbonne.

The card told more tales than the words written on it. Its color indicated the nation of the stranger. Yellow showed him to be English; red, Spanish; white, Portuguese; green, Dutch; red and white, Italian; red and green, Swiss; green and white, Russian; &c. The person’s age was expressed by the shape of the card. If it were circular, he was under 25; oval, between 25 and 30; octagonal, between 30 and 45; hexagonal, between 45 and 50; square, between 50 and 60; an oblong showed that he was over 60. Two lines placed below the name of the bearer indicated his build. If he were tall and lean, the lines were waving and parallel; tall and stout, they converged; and so on. The expression of his face was shown by a flower in the border. A rose designated an open and amiable countenance, whilst a tulip marked a pensive and aristocratic appearance. A fillet round the border, according to its length, told whether he were bachelor, married, or widower. Dots gave information as to his position and fortune. A full stop after his name showed that he was a Catholic; a semicolon, that he was a Lutheran; a comma, that he was a Calvinist; a dash, that he was a Jew; no stop indicated him an Atheist. So also his morals and character were pointed out by a pattern in the card. So, at one glance the Minister could tell all about his man, whether he were a gamester or a duelist; what was his purpose in visiting France; whether in search of a wife or to claim a legacy; what was his profession—that of physician, lawyer, or man of letters; whether he were to be put under surveillance or allowed to go his way unmolested.

* * * * *

We come now to a class of cipher which requires a certain amount of literary dexterity to conceal the clue.

During the Great Rebellion, Sir John Trevanion, a distinguished cavalier, was made prisoner, and locked up in Colchester Castle. Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle had just been made examples of, as a warning to “malignants:” and Trevanion had every reason for expecting a similar bloody end. As he awaits his doom, indulging in a hearty curse in round cavalier terms at the canting, crop-eared scoundrels who hold him in durance vile, and muttering a wish that he had fallen, sword in hand, facing the foe, he is startled by the entrance of the jailor, who hands him a letter:

“May’t do thee good,” growls the fellow; “it has been well looked to before it was permitted to come to thee.”

Sir John takes the letter, and the jailor leaves him his lamp by which to read it:—

§Worthie Sir John§:—Hope, that is ye best comport of ye afflictyd,
cannot much, I fear me, help you now. That I wolde saye to you, is
this only: if ever I may be able to requite that I do owe you, stand
not upon asking of me. ’Tis not much I can do; but what I can do, bee
verie sure I wille. I knowe that, if dethe comes, if ordinary men fear
it, it frights not you, accounting it for a high honour, to have such
a rewarde of your loyalty. Pray yet that you may be spared this soe
bitter, cup. I fear not that you will grudge any sufferings; only if
it bie submission you can turn them away, ’tis the part of a wise man.
Tell me, an if you can, to do for you any thinge that you would have
done. The general goes back on Wednesday. Restinge your servant to
command.

R. T.

Now this letter was written according to a preconcerted cipher. Every third letter after a stop was to tell. In this way Sir John made out—“Panel at east end of chapel slides.” On the following even, the prisoner begged to be allowed to pass an hour of private devotion in the chapel. By means of a bribe, this was accomplished. Before the hour had expired, the chapel was empty—the bird had flown.

An excellent plan of indicating the telling letter or words is through the heading of the letter. “Sir,” would signify that every third letter was to be taken; “Dear Sir,” that every seventh; “My dear sir,” that every ninth was to be selected. A system, very early adopted, was that of having pierced cards, through the holes of which the communication was written. The card was then removed, and the blank spaces filled up. As for example:—

§My dear X.§—[The] lines I now send you are forwarded by the kindness
of the [Bearer], who is a friend. [Is not] the message delivered yet
[to] my brother? [Be] quick about it, for I have all along [trusted]
that you would act with discretion and dispatch.

Yours ever, Z.

Put your card over the note, and through the piercings you will read: “The Bearer is not to be trusted.”

Poe, in his story of “The Gold Bug,” gives some valuable hints on the interpretation of the most common cryptographs. He contends that the ingenuity of man can construct no enigma which the ingenuity of man cannot unravel. And he actually read several very difficult ciphers which were sent to him after the publication of “The Gold Bug.”

But we saw, several years ago, a method which makes the message absolutely safe from detection. We will try to describe it.

Take a square sheet of paper of convenient size, say a foot square. Divide it by lines drawn at right angles into five hundred and seventy-six squares, twenty-six each way; in the upper horizontal row write the alphabet in its natural order, one letter in each square; in the second horizontal row write the alphabet, beginning with B. There will then be one square left at the end of this row; into this put A. Fill the third row by beginning with C, and writing A and B after Z at the end. So on until the whole sheet is filled. When completed, the table, if correct, will present this appearance. In the upper horizontal row, the alphabet in its natural order from left to right; in the left-hand vertical row, the same from top to bottom; and the diagonal, from upper right to lower left-hand corner, will be a line of Z’s.

Each party must have one of the tables. A key-word must be agreed upon, which may be any word in the English language, or from any other language if it can be represented by English letters, or, indeed, it may even be a combination of letters which spells nothing.

Now, to send a message, first write the message in plain English. Over it write the key-word, letter over letter, repeating it as many times as it is necessary to cover the message. Take a simple case as an illustration. Suppose the key-word to be _Grant_, and the message _We have five days’ provisions_. It should be placed thus:—

Grantgrantgrantgrantgran
Wehavefivedaysprovisions

Now find, in the upper horizontal row of the table, the first letter of the key-word, G, and in the left-hand vertical column, the first letter of the message, W. Run a line straight down from G, and one to the right from W, and in the angle where the two lines meet will be found the letter which must be written as the first letter of the cipher. With the second letter of the key-word, R, and the second letter of the message, E, find in the same way the second letter of the cipher.

The correspondent who receives the cipher goes to work to translate it thus:—He first writes over it the key-word, letter over letter, repeating it as often as necessary. Then finding in the upper row of his table the first letter of the key-word, he passes his pencil directly down until he comes to the first letter or the cipher; the letter opposite to it in the left vertical column is the first letter of the translation. Each of the succeeding letters is found in a similar way.

A third party, into whose hands such a cipher might fall, could not read it, though he possessed a copy of the table and knew how to use it, unless he knew the key-word. The chance of his guessing this is only one in millions. And there is no such thing as interpreting it by any other method, because there are no repetitions, and hence all comparison is at fault. That is to say, in the same cipher, in one place a letter, as for instance C may stand for one letter in the translation, and in another place C may stand for quite a different letter. This is the only kind of cryptograph we have ever seen which is absolutely safe.

The Reason Why.

WHY THE GERMANS EAT SAUER-KRAUT.

The reason why the most learned people on earth eat sauer-kraut may be found in the following extract from a work entitled _Petri Andreæ Matthioli Senensis medici commentarii in sex libros Pedacii Dioscoridis de Materiâ Medica. Venetiis. ex officina Valgrisiana_ MDLXV. _Traduit de Latin en Francais, par M. Antoine du Pinot. Lyon_, MDCLV. Preface, p. 13. ligne 30: “Finally, in order to omit nothing which can add to the knowledge of simples, it must be noted that Nature, mother and producer of all things, has created various simples, which have a sympathy or natural antipathy to each other; which is a very considerable point in this matter, and has no like as a mystery and secret. And thus it has seemed to me good to hint a word about it, and principally of those which are used in medicine. To commence, then, with the oak and the olive; these two trees hate each other in such sort that, if you plant one in the hole from which the other was dug, it will die there; and, even if you plant one near the other, they will work each other’s death. The cabbage and the vine do the like; for it has been seen that, if you plant a cabbage at the foot of a vine, the vine will recoil and draw itself away. And thus it is no marvel that the cabbage is very useful to sober topers, and that the Germans eat it commonly in _a compost_ to safeguard themselves from their wine.”

WHY PENNSYLVANIA WAS SETTLED.

Penn refused to pull his hat off
Before the king, and therefore sat off,
Another country to light pat on,
Where he might worship with his hat on.

HUGUENOTS.

They were so called because their first places of meeting in the city of Tours (where Calvin’s opinions first prevailed) were cellars under-ground, near Hugo’s Gate [Heb. XI. 38], whence the vulgar applied this name to them.

ROYAL DEMISE.

How monarchs die is easily explained,
And thus upon the tomb it might be chisel’d;
As long as George the Fourth could reign, he reigned,
And then he mizzled.

BOSTON.

In the seventh century a Roman Catholic monk by the name of Botolph, or Bot-holp, viz., Boat-help, founded a church in what is now Lincolnshire, England. Gradually a town grew up around the church, and was called Botolphstown, which was afterward contracted into Botolphston, and then shortened to Botoston, and finally to Boston. From that town of Boston in Lincolnshire came to America the Rev. John Cotton, who gave the name to the New England Capital. So that the metropolis of good old Puritan Massachusetts was, it seems, named in honor of a Roman Catholic saint and monk!

WEATHERCOCKS.

The vane or weathercock must have been of very early origin. Vitruvius calls it _triton_, evidently from an ancient form. The usual form on towers and castles was that of a banner; but on ecclesiastical edifices, it generally was a _weathercock_. There was a symbolical reason for the adoption of the figure of a cock. The cross was surmounted by a ball, to symbolize the redemption of the world by the cross of Christ; and the cock was placed upon the cross in allusion to the repentance of St. Peter, and to remind us of the important duties of repentance and Christian vigilance. Apart from symbolism, the large tail of the cock is well adapted to turn with the wind, just as is the arrow which is so frequently chosen.

CUTTING OFF WITH A SHILLING.

According to Blackstone (ii. 32), the Romans were wont to set aside testaments as being _inofficiosa_, deficient in natural duty, if they disinherited or totally passed by (without assigning a true and sufficient reason) any of the children of the testator. But if the child had any legacy, though ever so small, it was a proof that the testator had not lost his memory or his reason, which otherwise the law presumed; but was then supposed to have acted thus for some substantial cause, and in such case no _querula inofficiosi testamenti_ was allowed. Hence, probably, has arisen that groundless error of the necessity of leaving the heir a shilling, or some such express legacy, in order to disinherit him effectually. Whereas the law of England makes no such constrained suppositions of forgetfulness or insanity; and, therefore, though the heir or next of kin be totally omitted, it admits no _querula inofficiosi_ to set aside such a testament.

CARDINAL’S RED HAT.

The red hat was given to cardinals by Pope Innocent IV., in the first Council of Lyons, held in 1245, to signify that by that color they should be always ready to shed their blood in defence of the church.

THE ROAST BEEF OF ENGLAND.

Brave Betty was a maiden Queen,
Bold and clever! bold and clever!
King Philip, then a Spaniard King,
To court her did endeavor.
Queen Bess she frowned and stroked her ruff,
And gave the mighty Don a huff:
For which he swore her ears he’d cuff,
All with his grand Armada.
Says Royal Bess, “I’ll vengeance take!”
Blessings on her! blessings on her!
“But first I’ll eat a nice beefsteak,
All with my maids of honor.”
Then to her admirals she went,
Drake, Effingham, and Howard sent,
Who soon dished Philip’s armament,
And banged his grand Armada.

A SENSIBLE QUACK.

An empiric was asked by a regular physician how it was that, without education or skill, he contrived to live in considerable style, while he could hardly subsist. “Why” said the other, “how many people do you think have passed us lately?” “Perhaps a hundred.” “And how many of them do you think possess common sense?” “Possibly one.” “Why, then,” said the quack, “that one goes to you, and I get the other ninety-nine.”

GENEALOGY.

The doggerel couplet repeated in varied forms but usually presented in this shape—

When Adam delved and Eve span,
Who was then the gentleman?

is a translation of the German

Da Adam hackt und Eva spann,
Wer war damals der Edelmann?

which is further referred to a wag who had written the couplet on a wall near to which the Emperor Maximilian was tracing his pedigree; upon which the Emperor wrote the following impromptu:—

Ich bin ein Mann wie ein ander Mann,
Nur dass mir Gott die Ehre gann,

(I am a man like another man, only that God gave honor to me.)

A JUGGLER’S MYSTERY.

The French Government, which formerly sent dancing-girls and comic actors to cheer up its soldiers when they were ordered away from the dancing-saloons and theatres, so common throughout France, engaged Mr. Robert Houdin to go to Algeria and exhibit his best feats of legerdemain before the natives, to shake the excessive influence exerted by the marabouts or priests, whose power seems to be established solely on their adroit jugglery. The marabouts were not disposed to yield to the new-comer’s powers without a struggle, and pressed him as hard as they could. M. Houdin was successful, but his victory was not altogether easy, as he tells in the following narrative:—

The marabout said to me: “I believe now in your supernatural power. You are really a sorcerer. I hope, therefore, you will not refuse to repeat here an exhibition of your powers made on your stage.” He gave me two pistols, which he had concealed under his bournous, and said: “Choose one of those pistols; we are going to load it, and I shall fire it at you. You have nothing to fear, since you know how to parry any bullet.” I confess I was for a moment dumb with embarrassment. I tried my best to think of some subterfuge, but I could think of nothing. Every eye was fixed on me, in expectation of my reply. The marabout was triumphant.

Bou Allem, who knew that my tricks were due solely to my adroitness, became angry that his guests should be annoyed in this barbarous way, and he scolded the marabout. I stopped him. An idea had struck me which would at least extricate me for the moment from my embarrassment. So I said to the marabout, speaking with all the assurance I could summon: “You know that I am not invulnerable unless I have a talisman on me. Unfortunately, I have left it at Algiers.” The marabout began to laugh incredulously. “Nevertheless,” I went on to say, “if I remain in prayer for six hours, I shall be able to make myself invulnerable to your pistol, even though I have no talisman. To-morrow morning, at eleven o’clock, I shall let you fire at me before all these Arabs, who are witnesses of your challenge.” Bou Allem, astonished to hear me make such a promise, came up and asked me in a low tone if I was speaking seriously, and if he should invite the Arabs to come the next day. I told him I was. I need not say I did not spend the night in prayers, but I worked for two hours to make myself invulnerable, and then satisfied with my success, I went to sleep with a great deal of pleasure, for I was horribly tired. We breakfasted before eight o’clock, the next morning; our horses were saddled, and our escort was waiting the signal of departure, which was to take place immediately after the famous experiment. The same persons who were present at the challenge the day before, were at the rendezvous, and a great many other Arabs who had heard of what was to take place, had come to witness it.

The pistols were brought. I made them observe the touch-hole was clear. The marabout put a good load of powder in the pistol and rammed it down well. I chose a ball from among the balls brought, I ostensibly put it in the pistol and rammed it thoroughly. The marabout kept a good eye on me: his honor was at stake. The second pistol was loaded as the first had been, and now came the trying moment. Trying indeed it was for everybody. For the Arabs around, uncertain how the experiment would end; for my wife, who had in vain begged me not to try the experiment which she was afraid of—and I confess it, trying for me, as my new trick was based on none of the expedients I had hitherto used, and I was afraid of some mistake, some treachery, some accident. Nevertheless, I stood fifteen paces in front of the marabout, without exhibiting the least emotion. The marabout instantly took up one of the pistols, and at the given signal he aimed deliberately at me. He fired. I caught the ball in my teeth. More irritated than ever, the marabout ran to snatch up the other pistol; I was quickest and I seized it. “You failed to draw blood from me,” said I to him; “now look, I am going to draw blood from that wall yonder.” I fired at a wall which had just been whitewashed; instantly a large clot of blood was seen on it. The marabout went up to it, put a finger on it, tasted it, and satisfied himself it was really blood. His arms fell down at his side, he hung his head, he was overcome. It was evident he doubted now of everything, even of the Prophet. The Arabs raised their hands to Heaven, muttered prayers, and looked at me with dread.

This trick, however curious it may seem, is managed easily enough. I shall describe it. As soon as I was alone in my chamber, I took out of my pistol-case (which I carry with me wherever I go) a ball-mould. I took a card, turned up its corners and made a sort of recipient of it, in which I placed a lump of stearine, taken from one of the candles in the room. As soon as the stearine was melted, I mixed a little lamp-black with it—which I obtained by holding a knife over a lighted candle—and then I poured this composition into my ball-mould. If I had allowed the liquid stearine to become entirely cold, the ball would have been solid; but after ten or twelve seconds I reversed the mould, and the portion of the stearine which was not yet solid flowed out and left a hollow ball in the mould. This, by the way, is the mode in which the hollow candles used in the churches are made; the thickness of the sides depends on the time the melted stearine or wax is left in the mould. I wanted a second ball. I made it a little thicker than the first. I filled it with blood, and I closed the aperture with a drop of stearine. An Irishman had showed me years before, how to extract blood from the thumb without pain: I adopted his trick to fill my ball with blood. It is hard to believe how nearly these projectiles of stearine, colored with lamp-black, look like lead: they will deceive anybody, even when examined quite closely. The reader now clearly sees through the trick. While exhibiting the lead bullet to the spectators, I changed it for my hollow ball, and this last I ostensibly placed in the pistol. I rammed it down, to break the stearine into small pieces, which could not reach me at fifteen paces. As soon as the pistol was discharged, I opened my mouth and exhibited the lead ball between my teeth. The second pistol contained the ball filled with blood, which was broken to pieces on the wall, where it left the spot of blood, while the pieces of stearine could no where be found.

This is the whole mystery.

Weather-Wisdom.

SHERIDAN’S RHYMING CALENDAR.

January snowy,
February flowy,
March blowy,
April showery,
May flowery,
June bowery,
July moppy,
August croppy,
September poppy,
October breezy,
November wheezy,
December freezy.

SIR HUMPHRY DAVY ON WEATHER-OMENS.

In his shepherd’s calling he was prompt,
And watchful more than ordinary men.
Hence had he learned the meaning of all winds,
Of blasts of every tone; and oftentimes,
When others heeded not, he heard the South
Make subterraneous music, like the noise
Of bagpipes upon distant Highland hills.

The late Sir Humphry Davy, one of the most successful modern explorers of the secrets of nature, was not above attending to, and explaining, the “weather-omens” which are derived from popular observation.

In his _Salmonia_ he has the following dialogue between Haliens, (a fly-fisher,) Poietes, (a poet,) Physicus, (a man of science,) and Ornither, (a sportsman):—

_Poiet._—I hope we shall have another good day to-morrow, for the clouds are red in the west.

_Phys._—I have no doubt of it, for the red has a tint of purple.

_Hal._—Do you know why this tint portends fine weather?