Columns might be filled in an attempt to notice all the ingenuities of this work. For instance, the bringing in of Ophelia with her flowers, her “rosemary” and “rue,” and her “pansies for thoughts,” solely to introduce the quaint word “daysie;” in order that Lord Bacon might tell his opinion of his great discoverer and defender, in language that would fit the ears of this modern and slangy age. Nor is it possible to do more than barely mention that there can be no difficulty in finding the whole life history of Mr. Donnelly in “Hamlet” and other plays. No doubt the cipher, applied more fully to the pages already considered, would recount his diversions in Minnesota politics. And he is mentioned elsewhere. In “Titus Andronicus,” for example, we have “d’on,” and repeatedly afterward, “kneel.” Still more marked is the reference in Henry V. A French boy is lugged into that play for no purpose but to jabber a language unfamiliar to and hated by an English audience of that day. His “donne,” “donner,” “donnerai,” are repeated, parrot-like, to weariness, obviously to fix attention on that prominent syllable, “don.” And then, but a few pages away, we have, “He is married to Nell Quickly;” “And shall my Nell keep lodgers?” This is no accident, for accident is unknown to the so-called Shakespearian drama. “Don Nell,” “Nell Quickly,” over and over again, are very mileposts leading to the name of Donnelly, and to a cipher story that will reveal to the curious the inwardness of his career. It is no trifle to work out the cipher. To unearth a sentence, especially if you are at all particular as to what that sentence should say, requires hours of the hardest labor. But labor most arduous will not be in vain if applied to this significant and inviting portion of Henry V, by those who bestow on Mr. Donnelly the same reverential admiration that he cherishes for Lord Bacon.