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 you are forgiven: depart in peace: I rest in my Redeemer.--_Times_, Sept. 1st, 1852. Sometimes it is more confiding love "wafting a sigh from Indus to the pole," or, finger on lip, speaking secretly, and as he thinks securely, through the medium of cipher advertisements to the loved one. Sweet delusion! There are wicked philosophers abroad who unstring the bow of harder toil by picking your inmost thoughts! Lovers beware! intriguers tremble! Many a wicked passage of illicit love, many a joy fearfully snatched, which passed through the second column of the first page of the _Times_ as a string of disjointed letters, unintelligible as the correspondents thought, to all the world but themselves, have we seen fairly copied out in plain if not always good English in the commonplace books of these cunning men at cryptographs. Here, for instance, we give an episode from the life of "Flo," which appeared in the _Times_ of 1853-54, as a proof:-- Flo.--Thou voice of my heart! Berlin, Thursday. I leave next Monday, and shall press you to my heart on Saturday. God bless you!--_Nov. 29, 1853._ Flo.--The last is wrong. I repeat it. 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 wear round you while asleep after dinner. It will keep you from harm, and you must fancy my arms are around you. God bless you! how I do love you!--_Dec. 23, 1853._ Flo.--My own love, I am happy again; it is like awaking from a bad dream. You are, my life; to know that there is a chance of seeing you, to hear from you, to do things to enough. [There is some error here.] I shall try to see you soon. Write to me as often as you can. God bless you, thou voice of my heart!--_Jan. 2, 1854._ 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!--_Jan. 6, 1854._ Flo.--I fear, dearest, our cipher is discovered: write at once to your friend "Indian Shawl" (P.O.), Buckingham, Bucks.--_Jan. 7, 1845._