We provide consumers with insurance that is win-win:\n(i) amazing if you need us: no small print and 24/72hrs fulfilment (vs 4-18days by competition) \n(ii) up to 80% money back, every year, if you and your friends don't claim\n\nWe do so by taking insurance back to its 17th century roots, when incentives were aligned across the value chain and customers got money back when there were no claims

SO-SURE

Heads, I kill him. Tails — well, Tails and he not only understands who wants him dead, he will learn how little he knows of real pain. I’ll teach him, though. When I’m done, there will be nothing about it beyond his experience and there will come a moment when he breaks and begs me to finish him, prays like a supplicant to me, his Almighty, singular judge of his redemption and sole voice of forgiveness. I’ll play deaf because I’m not paid to listen. Fuck. Heads again. Goddamn it. Another boring Friday night. Three minutes of focus, three seconds to jab the guy and plunge Father Paul’s secret recipe into his ass, and then what am I supposed to do for the rest of the night? What was all the training for if I can’t make use of it? “The toss allows God to decide,” the cunning old priest would say. “Rejoice in the blessing endowed on you to be God’s Will enabled.” I don’t get it. These bastards deserved to die in the worst ways possible, but God has never let a Tails spin into my palm. It’s like He’s fucking with me, like it’s a fucking joke to Him to wind me up and then relish the frustration and disappointment when that fucking coin smiles back at me. Whatever. I’m here, he’s here and between the crowd and the music, no one will hear him scream. Might as well be in space. Hoppin’ and boppin’ through the dancers, I could be invisible for all the attention I get. He, on the other hand, exudes so much charisma that even women with partners are half-turned to watch him from the corner of their eyes. Maybe becoming a serial kidnapper-rapist-murderer wasn’t entirely a matter of choice. Maybe he’s only using the gifts God gave him, just like I’m using mine, but I doubt I’m as happy with my lot as he is — or has been — with his. No complaints on my part, though. The money’s pretty good, I travel the world in First Class and though my green Vatican City passport may not have quite the get-out-of-jail-free status of the light blue United Nations one, I don’t attract national security bureaus like they do. The moments between songs allow me to close unnoticed, my syringe ready in its sheath under my left cuff. An instant after the pulsing bass returns, I stab and then pretend to trip, moving bent over to disguise my route. No need to confirm his death, so sure am I in the evil priest’s alchemical expertise, and then my Friday night boredom is redeemed via text message — double headers are rare enough events that I would exhaust my list with less than five fingers. My mission window is short and I must first change and dispose of these clothes, so I waste no time waiting for an Uber and flag the first taxi in the rank outside the club. I have never questioned a target and I don’t now, but I can’t honestly wrap my mind around what a pubescent girl could have done to deserve me. It’s late enough she’s probably in bed, asleep, but that makes no never mind to me. Five minutes after striding through the hotel’s front entrance, having greeted the doorman and smiled at the night-shift manager, I exit by a side door dressed in running gear, my syringe nestled in my sock. The taxi ride uptown is quick, and I climb out beside a park. I limber up until the cab is out of sight and then jog without urgency towards the target address. This late, all the neighbourhood businesses I pass are closed — coffee shops, upscale boutiques, salons, even a small insurance office. Slowing as I arrive ‘home,’ I pause and stretch on the pavement out front, using my movements to gather my tools. With tired purpose, I climb the front stairs. Two breaths and I’m shutting the front door behind me in practiced silence. My mission demands less illumination, so I turn the lights off as I come to them. Keeping to the shadows, I ignore the ground floor and head upstairs. A small part of me is grateful for the wall-to-wall as I step onto the landing, but a greater part smiles at the sound of pop music emerging from an alcove. Tossing my coin as instructed, giving God the final word, my breath catches. Tails. What the fuck? Tails again. And a third time. So. Two things occur to me. I cannot torture her here and I need a way to move her somewhere safe. An image brightens in my head — the sign in the window of the insurance agent listed it was closed all weekend. It will do in a pinch. I need a suitcase. Back down the stairs, ignoring the main floor once again, because suitcases are stored in the basement. I choose the largest and retrace my steps to the girl’s room. None of the lights have been turned back on, so there is no call for collateral victims. One final check. Tails. So be it. Opening the door enough to slowly reach in and quench the main light, I use her confusion to dart across to where she lies on her stomach lost in her iPad. A rap on her temple with a folded knuckle is enough to steal her awareness, and the suitcase is ample. On a whim, I toss in her iPad. Here, then, is the riskiest part. A man in running gear does not often haul a large suitcase through the night, but once more pretending purpose suffices to protect me. Trixie Thorn would otherwise have grown into a great beauty were it not for my orders, but I tie her to the table in the staff kitchen as securely as I always do. I push a piece of torn tea towel into her mouth and secure it with tape. The one thing I don’t do is cut away her pyjamas. Nudity is a great psychological weapon but I just can’t do it. Even armed with the remaining piece of towel doused with ammonia from under the sink, I hesitate to wake her. I cannot say why. So I study her. It’s pointless, but perhaps her iPad can tell me something. Lead image by on ZSun Fu Unsplash

Heads & Tails: A Tale of Chance, Faith and Morality - Part 1

মাথা ও পুচ্ছ: সম্ভাবনা, বিশ্বাস এবং নৈতিকতার গল্প - পার্ট 1

Kopf und Zahl: Eine Geschichte von Zufall, Glauben und Moral – Teil 1

Cara y Cruz: Una historia de azar, fe y moralidad - Parte 1

Pile et Face : Une histoire de hasard, de foi et de moralité - Partie 1

हेड्स एंड टेल्स: संयोग, विश्वास और नैतिकता की कहानी - भाग 1

表と裏：偶然、信仰、道徳の物語 - パート 1

앞면과 뒷면: 우연, 신앙, 도덕에 관한 이야기 - 1부

Cara e Coroa: Uma História de Acaso, Fé e Moralidade - Parte 1

Орел и решка: История о шансе, вере и морали. Часть 1

Yazı ve Yazı: Bir Şans, İnanç ve Ahlak Hikayesi - Bölüm 1

Đầu & Đuôi: Câu chuyện về cơ hội, niềm tin và đạo đức - Phần 1

正面与反面：机遇、信仰与道德的故事（上）

The first part of the series of articles is available . Part-01 delves into topics like Intelligence Quotient (IQ), Emotional Quotient (EQ), and Game Playing Advice for Beginners. here Part 02, which is , provides advice for Intermediate Players along with mathematical techniques like the Fibonacci Technique of Betting. over here This is Part 03, which introduces the notion of a Bet Auto Stopper. It explains a playing style named by me as ‘Quantum+ Algorithm’. Idea of Bet Auto Stopper Now, nobody likes to lose when they are on a winning streak. Once you have learned to use Fibonacci style of betting – you might be winning very often. You might slowly see that the cash you deposited would have increased to about 125%, 150%, or even more. You might have started to think about paying off that small loan, paying off an emi, or even better…. buying a two-wheeler. But that’s when your dreams may come down crashing. The reason, more often than not, is the reckless and unsafe usage of Fibonacci. This is where I can introduce the concept of a 'bet auto stopper.' As mentioned earlier, we are all bound by the realms of reality. Now, you have to determine a game set. A Game Set, as defined by me, is a series of bets placed using the Fibonacci playing style until the point of a win. In our above example, let's explore what happens during a prolonged losing streak using Fibonacci by placing bets on a 2 to 1 field. Suppose you originally start with a deposit of INR 20,000 in the online casino and then the money in your account goes up to 29,000 using intelligent bets placed using Fibonacci and a bit of luck. By now, you have entered that world where you are so sure of this ‘mathematical basis’ that you continue increasing the bet amount, in Fibonacci style. This is because the basis for these bets is so strong in your mind, that you are ready to take deadly risks. As shown in the table above, you are going to exhaust all the money in your account. Worse still, you may again and again refill your online casino account – and continue the series of failures, leading to a disaster. This is when I will say Skilled Gaming has moved to Impulsive and Compulsive Gambling. But it is not going to be your fault. Because of a strong mathematical basis, you will start believing that you will surely win all your money back and go to a positive hand. So, here is where the idea of a ‘Bet Auto Stopper’  in a Fibonacci Game Set, comes to your rescue. It is very tough to implement this in the real world, as this is where your EQ comes into the picture. You need to be mentally strong and emotionally intelligent, to stop the bets beyond the safe point. It might be ok for you to make that one last bet in your danger zone, but you should be mature enough to stop it beyond that point. The best or rather the worst part is - that once you stop using ‘bet auto stopper’, you will see that as if out of magic, the winning number is exactly matching your bet sequence. It is as if the game is mocking you. But that is where being emotionally intelligent comes into the picture, you have to ignore all of these and continue on to your next game set, possibly after a short break. You will observe that if you are playing regularly, on a few days, or at a few intervals of time – you enter into this very often. This is because your mind has now gotten used to winning and it is not accepting that you lost. Because the only reason for this loss is that you did not have enough money to continue your bets. So, that is where you have to learn to operate within the ‘realms of reality’. Slowly n’ Steadily, you will see that you can keep your winnings and win a small to moderate amount daily at online casinos. [ ] Before we continue, remember that works best for 2 to 1, 3x payouts or more. where you may double or more the bet amount in the subsequent game works best for an even payout or 1x win amount. Note Fibonacci Style Progressive Style Quantum+ Algorithm (My Creation) Now when times are bad just because you did not play to the idea of a bet auto stopper or you are just having a bad day, when you are continuously losing even with safe bets, I have devised a low bet, low profit variation called as Quantum+ Algorithm. I am the proud creator of this algorithm. Remember, you need to have an analysis of the current game and find out the statistics of the winning numbers before you start with the Quantum+ technique. This algorithm involves placing bets for a specific quantum of bets. Quantum+ will allow you to place safe bets within a given quantum of time/game set. You have to adapt this algorithm across games, using your intellect and trying to improvise. In the previous game set description in the previous, you would usually continue to bet until either you have won or reached a bet auto stopper or possibly, until you run out of cash. Now, Quantum+ would require you to bring down the bet amount to very safe limits and continuously bet in a given quantum (adaptation of the game set) and each bet is a slice in the quantum. Quantum+ Algorithm will work well on 5x, 10x, and 15x types of returns and may also allow you to autoplay. Now, you see this is just like a robot on auto play and you are not too bothered about game dynamics that happen during this quantum. You are more emotionally detached, believing in the algorithm – because of the time that you had spent on analysis at the beginning on what to bet and the quantum slices. In the above quantum set, you can see that by winning only 6/20 times, which is just 30% - the player has a total win of 1250. But this may not be the outcome always. It might read lost across the table. Hence, you have to combine a soft bet auto stopper observe, and either restart or adopt a different approach as per your discretion and analysis. Also published here.

Winning in Online Skilled Gaming… Err… Gambling! Behold the Bet Auto Stopper 

As we start the New Year 2024, here is a letter to future Crypto CEOs. The temptation to pre-mine coins may be great, but unless they really know what they are doing, they better put the currency out of their crypto project. Satoshi was the first and last of his name I know you have been pondering the mystery of Satoshi at his laptop, mining that entire Genesis block by himself. The cojones on that guy, right? Mr. Nakamoto also pre-mined about 1,100,000 coins, locked them up and there they are. You can look at them for free, they are still there. Mr. Craig Wright has also looked at them. You might be thinking you can also just premine like Satoshi and a few lucky CEOs that came after him like Vitalik (Ethereum) and Shibetoshi (Dogecoin),  but the world has dramatically changed since 2008, 2009, 2010, …, 2023. The problem is there came a herd of CEOs who premine and “airdrop” their premined (garbage) coins to their loyal fanbase. Their projects were soon tunnelling into the ground, with billions of dollars of other people’s money up in smoke. Examples include Do Kwon, Su Zhu and Kyle Davies, and Sam Bankman Fried who will be tried this year in March. The reality is, if you can just premine on your laptop just like Satoshi, you are not going to be trusted nor followed to victory, you will be arrested. Don’t piss off the SEC Regulator Before I tell you about your arrest warrant, I’ll tell you why you shouldn’t get on the SEC regulator’s nerves. The SEC regulator might now have the most hectic job in the financial industry. Gone are the days of a banker, living by the simple 3-6-3 rule; Put 3% interest on deposits, charge 6% on loans and be at the golf course by 3 p.m. Now Mr. Gary Gensler has a lot on his plate. Like trying to decide if altcoins are securities or commodities. Something that IMO will not be decided one way or another for decades to come. Security means it is like a stock. With a simplistic analogy, somebody can create a lot of it and therefore they should be subject to the laws that govern the creation and disbursement of stocks to the public. Because a company could create stocks, sell them to the public, then pull the rug with an “ ”. oops, our business model wasn’t perfect. Our bad, but shit happens Jail time. Commodity means it is like maize. With another simplistic analogy, somebody can farm a lot of maize and therefore they should be subject to the laws that govern the growth and disbursement of maize to the public. A company can sell their maize to the public and if they say “ ”, that is okay. Everybody knows maize is sometimes not very good. You should DYOR next time before buying. oops, our business model wasn’t perfect. Our bad, but shit happens Seriously, no jail time. I’ll put it this way. You are hustled a little if you deal in commodities, and you are hustled a great deal if you deal in securities. All this trouble for the SEC Chairman was started back in 2009 when the SEC realized BTC could not be stopped. Not even temporarily so that it, the SEC, can have a closer look. Since then, a lot of cryptocurrencies cannot be stopped and a lot of money is tied up in the hairy complexities of the cryptocurrency market. Even the anti-Bitcoin banker Jamie Dimon has engineered a cryptocurrency project. But Mr. Gensler shall not suffer fools. He has successfully slapped cryptocurrency CEOs with a litany of laws and regulations, one of them deeming altcoins securities. The thing with securities, it is illegal to pre-mine a ton in your basement and keep them secret from the SEC.  A breach of Rule 105(B) of the Securities Exchange Act, which requires that you disclose all your financials truthfully and without fail. So Mr. Crypto CEO, if you want to start a cryptocurrency project, do not premine unless you know what you are doing. If you ever premine keep the coins to yourself. Stop airdropping them all over Twitter or Mr Gensler might get word. Don’t print money, build community . In Web2.5, community, not currency or content, is King One way I see to get around the illegal but sinfully alluring idea of premining, is synchronized mining with the mining done by a multi-partite arrangement. I am speculating here. This would be like mining a Genesis block in bits and pieces through a multipartite protocol. Hence, The Genesis block won’t be something in one laptop/server like Satoshi did, to be shared with all. It will be something that exists in multiple pieces working in tandem. One part fails, everything fails. If it works, this encourages community building via what I could call proof-of-decentralization. For example, imagine mining coins for community use e.g. as a reward for voluntary public works cleaning, garbage collection, and novel recycling innovations. To verify it is in different devices within the same community, time stamps are coded-in that synchronize with GPS coordinates and people’s SIM cards. This discourages the hoarding of coins and further encourages the spreading of them far and wide. After all, if you are building a community you believe in, why not start with a foundation of equal opportunity for all? And nothing could be more equal opportunity than equal mining rewards for all. Finally, a supply cap should be put in (coded via proof-of-decentralization as well) because we really should be allergic to inflationary currencies. I still wonder why new altcoins must still be inflationary. Even Worldcoin. Mr. Sam Altman is an AI-building genius but with economics, I’m not so sure. All it takes is the equivalent of a stock split / turning a gold bar into gold dust, if the coins going around aren’t enough. It does take a certain attitude towards sharing with all, but if you do build a great thing, they will come. With all their different currencies. P.S. >> Proof-of-decentralization is cheaper in terms of energy consumption than proof-of-work. The former is a community-adhesive while the latter is a meritocratic way to guarantee fair market competition. Community building is not a competitive process, for it is unethical to compete against the wise elders, or even the younger people in that community that look up to you.

Dear Future Crypto CEO, Do Not Pre-mine

প্রিয় ভবিষ্যত ক্রিপ্টো সিইও, প্রি-মাইন করবেন না

Sehr geehrter zukünftiger CEO von Crypto, führen Sie kein Pre-Mining durch

Estimado futuro CEO de Crypto, no realice minas previas

Cher futur PDG de Crypto, ne pré-minez pas

प्रिय फ्यूचर क्रिप्टो सीईओ, पहले से खनन न करें

Future Crypto CEO の皆様、プレマイニングはしないでください

친애하는 Future Crypto CEO님, 미리 채굴하지 마세요

Caro futuro CEO da Crypto, não pré-minere

Уважаемый будущий генеральный директор Crypto, не занимайтесь премайном!

Sevgili Geleceğin Kripto CEO'su, Ön Madencilik Yapmayın

Kính gửi Giám đốc điều hành tiền điện tử tương lai, Đừng khai thác trước

亲爱的未来加密首席执行官，请勿预挖

PHINEAS FINN'S SUCCESS.

Endless interviews and negotiations. Answering basic and similar questions, and waiting for a callback that, hopefully, will become a satisfying end to the process. Sounds stressful, right? But some people almost seem to enjoy the process and, as a result, they job-hop to the point of having 11 workplaces in 10 years — I know someone like that. What is the reason behind this behavior, and what can companies do to counteract it? Why do people job-hop? Toxic management of professionals have experienced a toxic work environment. Among them, 44% blame leadership and management. 64% This toxicity can present in several ways: Lack of trust Micromanagement No respect for the work-life balance No room for mistakes Gaslighting and much more A search for a workplace that is not toxic and will support its team, no matter what, is one of the most popular reasons for job hopping. No career growth opportunities Businesses that do not offer this possibility are certain to face big professional churn. Businesses that provide a growth opportunity see more engagement than those that do not. This also means they see a higher level of retention and can prevent job hopping. 15% Lack of company loyalty Companies want their teams to be loyal to them. They want them to share their values, follow their mission, and stay with them no matter what. What businesses may not realize is that teams expect the same treatment. They want their place of work to be loyal to them, invest in their development, provide them with perks and advantages, and offer them the care they deserve. Lack of thereof can be a deciding answer to the “Should I stay or should I go?” question for about of workers. And that is not going to be a decision a business will like. 20% Which industries are the most vulnerable? IT, media and PR, non-profit organizations, education, and government are more prone to experiencing churn and are more likely to deal with job-hopping professionals. This is usually due to low pay (government and education) or the abundance of other roles in the industry (IT and media). Combined, the above-mentioned factors paint a depressing picture. Nevertheless, there are steps leaders can take to stop job-hopping and build a lasting and professional team. What can leaders and managers do about job-hopping? Through thirteen years as a CEO and a Managing Partner, I have developed five steps that have helped me deal with teammates. job-hopping Step 1: emotional connection matters In my opinion, this is a lesson every leader should learn. To build a personal and emotional connection with my teams, I like to make little notes on everyone I come in contact with. This way, when I have a chance to personally communicate with them, I can ask them about important things like their hobbies, goals and even pets. Seeing their faces light up when I mention something that matters to them makes my day every time. Plus, it helps me form strong bonds that prevent the SupportYourApp team members from job hopping. Step 2: out-of-workplace communication should be encouraged Not something a lot of professionals can afford — dedicating their personal time to communication with their colleagues. Nevertheless, setting up team-building events that take place in a cozy café or, even better, out in the open, is crucial. The bonds built during such events may last a lifetime. At , one of our favorite ways to spend time together is sport. Marathons, charity runs, yoga and meditation sessions, and so on. This is not only a good way for us to bond, but to take care of our well-being. SupportYourApp Step 3: there should be a possibility of professional development With only of professionals sure about their professional development at their current job, it is no wonder that we are facing job-hopping. After all, no opportunity for promotion or growth is people quit. 25% one of the most popular reasons There should always be room for people to grow. Teams should have a clear understanding of what steps they need to take to push their careers to new heights. Businesses should also provide their teams with several directions they can take their careers in. It will give a team member a reason to stay with their current company for a long time, and it will allow businesses to find new opportunities and directions. For example, 60% of SupportYourApp’s management team was promoted from the positions of customer support consultants. When our team was smaller, this number was as high as 95%. We are creating greenhouse conditions for internal professional growth so that everyone has a place to develop and fulfill their professional potential. Step 4: a team simply must be listened to Businesses often treat team satisfaction surveys as something that has to be sent out and then ignored. They think their teams treat it like an opportunity to complain about working hours or low pay. What we have found is that teams use satisfaction surveys to express gratitude and offer their advice to make their place of work better. They want to show they care, and this is a perfect way for them to do so. If a business wants to retain its team, every voice and every thought needs to be heard and considered. This is the only way to build a company where people will want to stay. Such surveys can help a business review insurance and vacation policies, implement new team activities like book and movie clubs, and even make necessary in-office adjustments. Why am I so sure about it? Because this is the practice SupportYourApp has been using for more than 13 years now. Step 5: it is important to be a leader, not a ‘pusher’ I will not tire of saying — the best way to manage people is to . Pushing one’s team to do something they may not want to do and refusing to respect their opinions is one of the signs of a toxic manager. It is almost sure to become a reason behind churn and job-hopping. lead by example Being a leader is all about inspiring people, motivating them, and creating an atmosphere where they will want to stay and thrive. The catch? There is no limit to how good a leader can be, so the process of becoming one is ever-ongoing. Which is one of the things I love about it.

Should I Stay or Should I Go: How to Deal With Job Hopping

North and South by Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . CHAPTER XXI. here CHAPTER XXI. THE DARK NIGHT. “On earth is known to none The smile that is not sister to a tear.” Elliott. Margaret and her father walked home. The night was fine, the streets clean, and with her pretty white silk, like Leezie Lindsay’s gown o’ green satin, in the ballad, “kilted up to her knee,” she was off with her father—ready to dance along with the excitement of the cool, fresh night air. “I rather think Thornton is not quite easy in his mind about this strike. He seemed very anxious to-night.” “I should wonder if he were not. But he spoke with his usual coolness to the others, when they suggested different things, just before we came away.” “So he did after dinner as well. It would take a good deal to stir him from his cool manner of speaking; but his face strikes me as anxious.” “I should be, if I were he. He must know of the growing anger and hardly smothered hatred of his workpeople, who all looked upon him as what the Bible calls a ‘hard man,’—not so much unjust as unfeeling; clear in judgment, standing upon his ‘rights’ as no human being ought to stand, considering what we and all our petty rights are in the sight of the Almighty. I am glad you think he looks anxious. When I remember Boucher’s half mad words and ways, I cannot bear to think how coolly Mr. Thornton spoke.” “In the first place, I am not so convinced as you are about that man Boucher’s utter distress; for the moment, he was badly off, I don’t doubt. But there is always a mysterious supply of money from these Unions; and, from what you said, it was evident the man was of a passionate, demonstrative nature, and gave strong expression to all he felt.” “Oh, papa!” “Well! I only want you to do justice to Mr. Thornton, who is, I suspect, of an exactly opposite nature—a man who is far too proud to show his feelings. Just the character I should have thought beforehand, you would have admired, Margaret.” “So I do—so I should; but I don’t feel quite so sure as you do of the existence of those feelings. He is a man of great strength of character—of unusual intellect, considering the few advantages he has had.” “Not so few. He has led a practical life from a very early age, has been called upon to exercise judgment and self-control. All that developes one part of the intellect. To be sure, he needs some of the knowledge of the past, which gives the truest basis for conjecture as to the future; but he knows this need—he perceives it, and that is something. You are quite prejudiced against Mr. Thornton, Margaret.” “He is the first specimen of a manufacturer—of a person engaged in trade—that I had ever the opportunity of studying, papa. He is my first olive: let me make a face while I swallow it. I know he is good of his kind, and by and by I shall like the kind. I rather think I am already beginning to do so. I was very much interested by what the gentlemen were talking about, although I did not understand half of it. I was quite sorry when Miss Thornton came to take me to the other end of the room, saying she was sure I should be uncomfortable at being the only lady among so many gentlemen. I had never thought about it, I was so busy listening; and the ladies were so dull, papa—oh, so dull! Yet I think it was clever too. It reminded me of our old game of having each so many nouns to introduce into a sentence.” “What do you mean, child?” asked Mr. Hale. “Why, they took nouns that were signs of things which gave evidence of wealth,—housekeepers, under-gardeners, extent of glass, valuable lace, diamonds, and all such things; and each one formed her speech so as to bring them all in, in the prettiest accidental manner possible.” “You will be as proud of your one servant when you get her, if all is true about her that Mrs. Thornton says.” “To be sure, I shall. I felt like a great hypocrite to-night, sitting there in my white silk gown, with my idle hands before me, when I remembered all the good, thorough, house-work they had done to-day. They took me for a fine lady, I’m sure.” “Even I was mistaken enough to think you looked like a lady, my dear,” said Mr. Hale, quietly smiling. But smiles were changed to white and trembling looks when they saw Dixon’s face, as she opened the door. “Oh, master!—Oh, Miss Margaret! Thank God you are come! Dr. Donaldson is here. The servant next door went for him, for the charwoman is gone home. She’s better now; but, oh sir! I thought she’d have died an hour ago.” Mr. Hale caught Margaret’s arm to steady himself from falling. He looked at her face, and saw an expression upon it of surprise and extremest sorrow, but not the agony of terror that contracted his own unprepared heart. She knew more than he did, and yet she listened with that hopeless expression of awed apprehension. “Oh! I should not have left her—wicked daughter that I am!” moaned forth Margaret, as she supported her trembling father’s hasty steps upstairs. Dr. Donaldson met them on the landing. “She is better now,” he whispered. “The opiate has taken effect. The spasms were very bad: no wonder they frightened your maid; but she’ll rally this time.” “This time! Let me go to her!” Half an hour ago Mr. Hale was a middle-aged man; now his sight was dim, his senses wavering, his walk tottering, as if he were seventy years of age. Dr. Donaldson took his arm, and led him into the bedroom. Margaret followed close. There lay her mother, with an unmistakeable look on her face. She might be better now; she was sleeping, but Death had signed her for his own, and it was clear that ere long he would return to take possession. Mr. Hale looked at her for some time without a word. Then he began to shake all over, and, turning away from Dr. Donaldson’s anxious care, he groped to find the door; he could not see it, although several candles, brought in the sudden affright, were burning and flaring there. He staggered into the drawing-room, and felt about for a chair. Dr. Donaldson wheeled one to him, and placed him in it. He felt his pulse. “Speak to him, Miss Hale. We must rouse him.” “Papa!” said Margaret, with a crying voice that was wild with pain. “Papa! Speak to me!” The speculation came again into his eyes, and he made a great effort. “Margaret, did you know of this? Oh, it was cruel of you!” “No, sir, it was not cruel!” replied Dr. Donaldson, with quick decision. “Miss Hale acted under my directions. There may have been a mistake, but it was not cruel. Your wife will be a different creature to-morrow, I trust. She has had spasms, as I anticipated, though I did not tell Miss Hale of my apprehensions. She has taken the opiate I brought with me; she will have a good long sleep; and to-morrow that look which has alarmed you so much will have passed away.” “But not the disease?” Dr. Donaldson glanced at Margaret. Her bent head, her face raised with no appeal for a temporary reprieve, showed that quick observer of human nature that she thought it better that the whole truth should be told. “Not the disease. We cannot touch the disease, with all our poor vaunted skill. We can only delay its progress—alleviate the pain it causes. Be a man, sir—a Christian. Have faith in the immortality of the soul, which no pain, no mortal disease, can assail or touch!” But all the reply he got was in the choked words, “You have never been married, Dr. Donaldson; you don’t know what it is,” and in the deep, manly sobs, which went through the stillness of the night like heavy pulses of agony. Margaret knelt by him, caressing him with tearful caresses. No one, not even Dr. Donaldson, knew how the time went by. Mr. Hale was the first to dare to speak of the necessities of the present moment. “What must we do?” asked he. “Tell us both. Margaret is my staff—my right hand.” Dr. Donaldson gave his clear, sensible directions. No fear for to-night—nay, even peace for to-morrow, and for many days yet. But no enduring hope of recovery. He advised Mr. Hale to go to bed, and leave only one to watch the slumber, which he hoped would be undisturbed. He promised to come again early in the morning. And, with a warm and kindly shake of the hand, he left them. They spoke but few words; they were too much exhausted by their terror to do more than decide upon the immediate course of action. Mr. Hale was resolved to sit up through the night, and all that Margaret could do was to prevail upon him to rest on the drawing-room sofa. Dixon stoutly and bluntly refused to go to bed; and, as for Margaret, it was simply impossible that she should leave her mother, let all the doctors in the world speak of “husbanding resources,” and “one watcher only being required.” So, Dixon sat, and stared, and winked, and drooped, and picked herself up again with a jerk, and finally gave up the battle, and fairly snored. Margaret had taken off her gown and tossed it aside with a sort of impatient disgust, and put on her dressing-gown. She felt as if she never could sleep again; as if her whole senses were acutely vital, and all endued with double keenness, for the purpose of watching. Every sight and sound—nay, even every thought, touched some nerve to the very quick. For more than two hours, she heard her father’s restless movements in the next room. He came perpetually to the door of her mother’s chamber, pausing there to listen, till she, not hearing his close unseen presence, went and opened it to tell him how all went on, in reply to the questions his baked lips could hardly form. At last he, too, fell asleep, and all the house was still. Margaret sat behind the curtain thinking. Far away in time, far away in space, seemed all the interests of past days. Not more than thirty-six hours ago, she cared for Bessy Higgins and her father, and her heart was wrung for Boucher; now, that was all like a dreaming memory of some former life;—everything that had passed out of doors seemed dissevered from her mother, and therefore unreal. Even Harley Street appeared more distinct; there she remembered, as if it were yesterday, how she had pleased herself with tracing out her mother’s features in her Aunt Shaw’s face,—and how letters had come, making her dwell on the thoughs of home with all the longing of love. Helstone, itself, was in the dim past. The dull gray days of the preceding winter and spring, so uneventless and monotonous, seemed more associated with what she cared for now above all price. She would fain have caught at the skirts of that departing time, and prayed it to return, and give her back what she had too little valued while it was yet in her possession. What a vain show Life seemed! How unsubstantial, and flickering, and flitting! It was as if from some aërial belfry, high up above the stir and jar of the earth, there was a bell continually tolling, “All are shadows!—all are passing!—all is past!” And when the morning dawned, cool and gray, like many a happier morning before—when Margaret looked one by one at the sleepers, it seemed as if the terrible night were unreal as a dream; it, too, was a shadow. It, too, was past. Mrs. Hale herself was not aware when she awoke, how ill she had been the night before. She was rather surprised at Dr. Donaldson’s early visit, and perplexed by the anxious faces of husband and child. She consented to remain in bed that day, saying she certainly was tired; but, the next, she insisted on getting up; and Dr. Donaldson gave his consent to her returning into the drawing-room. She was restless and uncomfortable in every position, and before night she became very feverish. Mr. Hale was utterly listless, and incapable of deciding on anything. “What can we do to spare mamma such another night?” asked Margaret on the third day. “It is to a certain degree, the reaction after the powerful opiates I have been obliged to use. It is more painful for you to see than for her to bear, I believe. But, I think, if we could get a water-bed it might be a good thing. Not but what she will be better to-morrow; pretty much like herself as she was before this attack. Still, I should like her to have a water-bed. Mrs. Thornton has one, I know. I’ll try and call there this afternoon. Stay,” said he, his eye catching on Margaret’s face, blanched with watching in a sick room, “I’m not sure whether I can go; I’ve a long round to take. It would do you no harm to have a brisk walk to Marlborough Street, and ask Mrs. Thornton if she can spare it.” “Certainly,” said Margaret. “I could go while mamma is asleep this afternoon. I’m sure Mrs. Thornton would lend it to us.” Dr. Donaldson’s experience told him rightly. Mrs. Hale seemed to shake off the consequences of her attack, and looked brighter and better this afternoon than Margaret had ever hoped to see her again. Her daughter left her after dinner, sitting in her easy chair, with her hand lying in her husband’s, who looked more worn and suffering than she by far. Still, he could smile now—rather slowly, rather faintly, it is true; but a day or two before, Margaret never thought to see him smile again. It was about two miles from their house in Crampton Crescent to Marlborough Street. It was too hot to walk very quickly. An August sun beat straight down into the street at three o’clock in the afternoon. Margaret went along, without noticing anything very different from usual in the first mile and a half of her journey; she was absorbed in her own thoughts, and had learnt by this time to thread her way through the irregular stream of human beings that flowed through Milton streets. But, by and by, she was struck with an unusual heaving among the mass of people in the crowded road on which she was entering. They did not appear to be moving on, so much as talking, and listening, and buzzing with excitement without much stirring from the spot where they might happen to be. Still, as they made way for her, and, wrapt up in the purpose of her errand, and the necessities that suggested it, she was less quick of observation than she might have been, if her mind had been at ease. She had got into Marlborough Street before the full conviction forced itself upon her, that there was a restless, oppressive sense of irritation abroad among the people; a thunderous atmosphere, morally as well as physically, around her. From every narrow lane opening out on Marlborough Street came up a low distant roar, as of myriads of fierce indignant voices. The inhabitants of each poor squalid dwelling were gathered round the doors and windows, if indeed they were not actually standing in the middle of the narrow ways—all with looks intent towards one point. Marlborough Street itself was the focus of all those human eyes, that betrayed intensest interest of various kinds; some fierce with anger, some lowering with relentless threats! some dilated with fear, or imploring entreaty; and as Margaret reached the small side-entrance by the folding doors, in the great dead wall of Marlborough mill-yard, and waited the porter’s answer to the bell, she looked round and heard the first long far-off roll of the tempest;—saw the first slow-surging wave of the dark crowd come, with its threatening crest, tumble over, and retreat, at the far end of the street, which a moment ago seemed so full of repressed noise, but which now was ominously still; all these circumstances forced themselves on Margaret’s notice, but did not sink down into her pre-occupied heart. She did not know what they meant—what was their deep significance; while she did know, did feel the keen sharp pressure of the knife that was soon to stab her through and through by leaving her motherless. She was trying to realise that, in order that, when it came, she might be ready to comfort her father. The porter opened the door cautiously, not nearly wide enough to admit her. “It’s you, is it, ma’am?” said he, drawing a long breath, and widening the entrance, but still not opening it fully. Margaret went in. He hastily bolted it behind her. “Th’ folk are all coming up here, I reckon?” asked he. “I don’t know. Something unusual seemed going on; but this street is quite empty, I think.” She went across the yard and put up the steps to the house door. There was no near sound,—no steam engine at work with beat and pant,—no click of machinery, no mingling and clashing of many sharp voices; but far away, the ominous gathering roar, deep-clamouring. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell (2003). North and South. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/4276/pg4276-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

THE DARK NIGHT.

Christian Science by Mark Twain, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . SEVEN HUNDRED PER CENT. here SEVEN HUNDRED PER CENT. A Scientist out West has visited a bookseller—with intent to find fault with me—and has brought away the information that the price at which Mrs. Eddy sells Science and Health is not an unusually high one for the size and make of the book. That is true. But in the book-trade—that profit-devourer unknown to Mrs. Eddy's book—a three-dollar book that is made for thirty-five or forty cents in large editions is put at three dollars because the publisher has to pay author, middleman, and advertising, and if the price were much below three the profit accruing would not pay him fairly for his time and labor. At the same time, if he could get ten dollars for the book he would take it, and his morals would not fall under criticism. But if he were an inspired person commissioned by the Deity to receive and print and spread broadcast among sorrowing and suffering and poor men a precious message of healing and cheer and salvation, he would have to do as Bible Societies do—sell the book at a pinched margin above cost to such as could pay, and give it free to all that couldn't; and his name would be praised. But if he sold it at seven hundred per cent. profit and put the money in his pocket, his name would be mocked and derided. Just as Mrs. Eddy's is. And most justifiably, as it seems to me. The complete Bible contains one million words. The New Testament by itself contains two hundred and forty thousand words. My '84 edition of Science and Health contains one hundred and twenty thousand words—just half as many as the New Testament. Science and Health has since been so inflated by later inspirations that the 1902 edition contains one hundred and eighty thousand words—not counting the thirty thousand at the back, devoted by Mrs. Eddy to advertising the book's healing abilities—and the inspiring continues right along. If you have a book whose market is so sure and so great that you can give a printer an everlasting order for thirty or forty or fifty thousand copies a year he will furnish them at a cheap rate, because whenever there is a slack time in his press-room and bindery he can fill the idle intervals on your book and be making something instead of losing. That is the kind of contract that can be let on Science and Health every year. I am obliged to doubt that the three-dollar Science and Health costs Mrs. Eddy above fifteen cents, or that the six dollar copy costs her above eighty cents. I feel quite sure that the average profit to her on these books, above cost of manufacture, is all of seven hundred per cent. Every proper Christian Scientist has to buy and own (and canvass for) Science and Health (one hundred and eighty thousand words), and he must also own a Bible (one million words). He can buy the one for from three to six dollars, and the other for fifteen cents. Or, if three dollars is all the money he has, he can get his Bible for nothing. When the Supreme Being disseminates a saving Message through uninspired agents—the New Testament, for instance—it can be done for five cents a copy, but when He sends one containing only two-thirds as many words through the shop of a Divine Personage, it costs sixty times as much. I think that in matters of such importance it is bad economy to employ a wild-cat agency. Here are some figures which are perfectly authentic, and which seem to justify my opinion. “These [Bible] societies, inspired only by a sense of religious duty, are issuing the Bible at a price so small that they have made it the cheapest book printed. For example, the American Bible Society offers an edition of the whole Bible as low as fifteen cents and the New Testament at five cents, and the British Society at sixpence and one penny, respectively. These low prices, made possible by their policy of selling the books at cost or below cost,” etc.—New York Sun, February 25, 1903. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Mark Twain (2004). Christian Science. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/3187/pg3187-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

SEVEN HUNDRED PER CENT.

Phineas Redux by Anthony Trollope, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . POLITICAL VENOM. here POLITICAL VENOM. On the Monday Mr. Turnbull opened the ball by declaring his reasons for going into the same lobby with Mr. Daubeny. This he did at great length. To him all the mighty pomp and all the little squabbles of office were, he said, as nothing. He would never allow himself to regard the person of the Prime Minister. The measure before the House ever had been and ever should be all in all to him. If the public weal were more regarded in that House, and the quarrels of men less considered, he thought that the service of the country would be better done. He was answered by Mr. Monk, who was sitting near him, and who intended to support Mr. Gresham. Mr. Monk was rather happy in pulling his old friend, Mr. Turnbull, to pieces, expressing his opinion that a difference in men meant a difference in measures. The characters of men whose principles were known were guarantees for the measures they would advocate. To him,—Mr. Monk,—it was matter of very great moment who was Prime Minister of England. He was always selfish enough to wish for a Minister with whom he himself could agree on the main questions of the day. As he certainly could not say that he had political confidence in the present Ministry, he should certainly vote against them on this occasion. In the course of the evening Phineas found a letter addressed to himself from Mr. Bonteen. It was as follows:— House of Commons, April 5th, 18—. Dear Mr. Finn, I never accused you of dishonesty. You must have misheard or misunderstood me if you thought so. I did say that you had scuttled the ship;—and as you most undoubtedly did scuttle it,—you and Mr. Monk between you,—I cannot retract my words. I do not want to go to any one for testimony as to your merits on the occasion. I accused you of having done nothing dishonourable or disgraceful. I think I said that there was danger in the practice of scuttling. I think so still, though I know that many fancy that those who scuttle do a fine thing. I don't deny that it's fine, and therefore you can have no cause of complaint against me. Yours truly, J. Bonteen. He had brought a copy of his own letter in his pocket to the House, and he showed the correspondence to Mr. Monk. "I would not have noticed it, had I been you," said he. "You can have no idea of the offensive nature of the remark when it was made." "It's as offensive to me as to you, but I should not think of moving in such a matter. When a man annoys you, keep out of his way. It is generally the best thing you can do." "If a man were to call you a liar?" "But men don't call each other liars. Bonteen understands the world much too well to commit himself by using any word which common opinion would force him to retract. He says we scuttled the ship. Well;—we did. Of all the political acts of my life it is the one of which I am most proud. The manner in which you helped me has entitled you to my affectionate esteem. But we did scuttle the ship. Before you can quarrel with Bonteen you must be able to show that a metaphorical scuttling of a ship must necessarily be a disgraceful act. You see how he at once retreats behind the fact that it need not be so." "You wouldn't answer his letter." "I think not. You can do yourself no good by a correspondence in which you cannot get a hold of him. And if you did get a hold of him you would injure yourself much more than him. Just drop it." This added much to our friend's misery, and made him feel that the weight of it was almost more than he could bear. His enemy had got the better of him at every turn. He had now rushed into a correspondence as to which he would have to own by his silence that he had been confuted. And yet he was sure that Mr. Bonteen had at the club insulted him most unjustifiably, and that if the actual truth were known, no man, certainly not Mr. Monk, would hesitate to say that reparation was due to him. And yet what could he do? He thought that he would consult Lord Cantrip, and endeavour to get from his late Chief some advice more palatable than that which had been tendered to him by Mr. Monk. In the meantime animosities in the House were waxing very furious; and, as it happened, the debate took a turn that was peculiarly injurious to Phineas Finn in his present state of mind. The rumour as to the future promotion of Mr. Bonteen, which had been conveyed by Laurence Fitzgibbon to Phineas at the Universe, had, as was natural, spread far and wide, and had reached the ears of those who still sat on the Ministerial benches. Now it is quite understood among politicians in this country that no man should presume that he will have imposed upon him the task of forming a Ministry until he has been called upon by the Crown to undertake that great duty. Let the Gresham or the Daubeny of the day be ever so sure that the reins of the State chariot must come into his hands, he should not visibly prepare himself for the seat on the box till he has actually been summoned to place himself there. At this moment it was alleged that Mr. Gresham had departed from the reticence and modesty usual in such a position as his, by taking steps towards the formation of a Cabinet, while it was as yet quite possible that he might never be called upon to form any Cabinet. Late on this Monday night, when the House was quite full, one of Mr. Daubeny's leading lieutenants, a Secretary of State, Sir Orlando Drought by name,—a gentleman who if he had any heart in the matter must have hated this Church Bill from the very bottom of his heart, and who on that account was the more bitter against opponents who had not ceased to throw in his teeth his own political tergiversation,—fell foul of Mr. Gresham as to this rumoured appointment to the Chancellorship of the Exchequer. The reader will easily imagine the things that were said. Sir Orlando had heard, and had been much surprised at hearing, that a certain honourable member of that House, who had long been known to them as a tenant of the Ministerial bench, had already been appointed to a high office. He, Sir Orlando, had not been aware that the office had been vacant, or that if vacant it would have been at the disposal of the right honourable gentleman; but he believed that there was no doubt that the place in question, with a seat in the Cabinet, had been tendered to, and accepted by, the honourable member to whom he alluded. Such was the rabid haste with which the right honourable gentleman opposite, and his colleagues, were attempting, he would not say to climb, but to rush into office, by opposing a great measure of Reform, the wisdom of which, as was notorious to all the world, they themselves did not dare to deny. Much more of the same kind was said, during which Mr. Gresham pulled about his hat, shuffled his feet, showed his annoyance to all the House, and at last jumped upon his legs. "If," said Sir Orlando Drought,—"if the right honourable gentleman wishes to deny the accuracy of any statements that I have made, I will give way to him for the moment, that he may do so." "I deny utterly, not only the accuracy, but every detail of the statement made by the right honourable gentleman opposite," said Mr. Gresham, still standing and holding his hat in his hand as he completed his denial. "Does the right honourable gentleman mean to assure me that he has not selected his future Chancellor of the Exchequer?" "The right honourable gentleman is too acute not to be aware that we on this side of the House may have made such selection, and that yet every detail of the statement which he has been rash enough to make to the House may be—unfounded. The word, sir, is weak; but I would fain avoid the use of any words which, justifiable though they might be, would offend the feelings of the House. I will explain to the House exactly what has been done." Then there was a great hubbub—cries of "Order," "Gresham," "Spoke," "Hear, hear," and the like,—during which Sir Orlando Drought and Mr. Gresham both stood on their legs. So powerful was Mr. Gresham's voice that, through it all, every word that he said was audible to the reporters. His opponent hardly attempted to speak, but stood relying upon his right. Mr. Gresham said he understood that it was the desire of the House that he should explain the circumstances in reference to the charge that had been made against him, and it would certainly be for the convenience of the House that this should be done at the moment. The Speaker of course ruled that Sir Orlando was in possession of the floor, but suggested that it might be convenient that he should yield to the right honourable gentleman on the other side for a few minutes. Mr. Gresham, as a matter of course, succeeded. Rights and rules, which are bonds of iron to a little man, are packthread to a giant. No one in all that assembly knew the House better than did Mr. Gresham, was better able to take it by storm, or more obdurate in perseverance. He did make his speech, though clearly he had no right to do so. The House, he said, was aware, that by the most unfortunate demise of the late Duke of Omnium, a gentleman had been removed from this House to another place, whose absence from their counsels would long be felt as a very grievous loss. Then he pronounced a eulogy on Plantagenet Palliser, so graceful and well arranged, that even the bitterness of the existing opposition was unable to demur to it. The House was well aware of the nature of the labours which now for some years past had occupied the mind of the noble duke; and the paramount importance which the country attached to their conclusion. The noble duke no doubt was not absolutely debarred from a continuance of his work by the change which had fallen upon him; but it was essential that some gentleman, belonging to the same party with the noble duke, versed in office, and having a seat in that House, should endeavour to devote himself to the great measure which had occupied so much of the attention of the late Chancellor of the Exchequer. No doubt it must be fitting that the gentleman so selected should be at the Exchequer, in the event of their party coming into office. The honourable gentleman to whom allusion had been made had acted throughout with the present noble duke in arranging the details of the measure in question; and the probability of his being able to fill the shoes left vacant by the accession to the peerage of the noble duke had, indeed, been discussed;—but the discussion had been made in reference to the measure, and only incidentally in regard to the office. He, Mr. Gresham, held that he had done nothing that was indiscreet,—nothing that his duty did not demand. If right honourable gentlemen opposite were of a different opinion, he thought that that difference came from the fact that they were less intimately acquainted than he unfortunately had been with the burdens and responsibilities of legislation. There was very little in the dispute which seemed to be worthy of the place in which it occurred, or of the vigour with which it was conducted; but it served to show the temper of the parties, and to express the bitterness of the political feelings of the day. It was said at the time, that never within the memory of living politicians had so violent an animosity displayed itself in the House as had been witnessed on this night. While Mr. Gresham was giving his explanation, Mr. Daubeny had arisen, and with a mock solemnity that was peculiar to him on occasions such as these, had appealed to the Speaker whether the right honourable gentleman opposite should not be called upon to resume his seat. Mr. Gresham had put him down with a wave of his hand. An affected stateliness cannot support itself but for a moment; and Mr. Daubeny had been forced to sit down when the Speaker did not at once support his appeal. But he did not forget that wave of the hand, nor did he forgive it. He was a man who in public life rarely forgot, and never forgave. They used to say of him that "at home" he was kindly and forbearing, simple and unostentatious. It may be so. Who does not remember that horrible Turk, Jacob Asdrubal, the Old Bailey barrister, the terror of witnesses, the bane of judges,—who was gall and wormwood to all opponents. It was said of him that "at home" his docile amiability was the marvel of his friends, and delight of his wife and daughters. "At home," perhaps, Mr. Daubeny might have been waved at, and have forgiven it; but men who saw the scene in the House of Commons knew that he would never forgive Mr. Gresham. As for Mr. Gresham himself, he triumphed at the moment, and exulted in his triumph. Phineas Finn heard it all, and was disgusted to find that his enemy thus became the hero of the hour. It was, indeed, the opinion generally of the Liberal party that Mr. Gresham had not said much to flatter his new Chancellor of the Exchequer. In praise of Plantagenet Palliser he had been very loud, and he had no doubt said that which implied the capability of Mr. Bonteen, who, as it happened, was sitting next to him at the time; but he had implied also that the mantle which was to be transferred from Mr. Palliser to Mr. Bonteen would be carried by its new wearer with grace very inferior to that which had marked all the steps of his predecessor. Ratler, and Erle, and Fitzgibbon, and others had laughed in their sleeves at the expression, understood by them, of Mr. Gresham's doubt as to the qualifications of his new assistant, and Sir Orlando Drought, in continuing his speech, remarked that the warmth of the right honourable gentleman had been so completely expended in abusing his enemies that he had had none left for the defence of his friend. But to Phineas it seemed that this Bonteen, who had so grievously injured him, and whom he so thoroughly despised, was carrying off all the glories of the fight. A certain amount of consolation was, however, afforded to him. Between one and two o'clock he was told by Mr. Ratler that he might enjoy the privilege of adjourning the debate,—by which would accrue to him the right of commencing on the morrow,—and this he did at a few minutes before three. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Anthony Trollope (2006). Phineas Redux. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/18640/pg18640-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

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