A new alternative to stock music, built for the ad industry. Instantly license tracks from trendy artists, with options for any creative brief.

Bopper

bopper

restores power equilibrium, taking it from tyrants and giving it to the meek who shall inherit the earth. It is a silent protest creeping in, dissolving the constructs of corrupt politics, money, and rulership over human sovereignty. The unalterable record that is the Bitcoin network will allow wealth to remain in the hands of those that accumulate it properly for centuries. Bitcoin In Bitcoin, the early adopters get rewarded first. As the price increases, the laggers & everyone else pay a delayed ignorance tax. Yet, it shows mercy with periodic dips in price to allow newcomers to redeem themselves. Bitcoin uses encrypted technology to build the decentralized world we want to live in. It is really about liberation. Suppose I could impart wisdom to my children and grandchildren regarding Bitcoin. There may be a time when acquiring Bitcoin will not be like the days of old. Secure it, and hold it over a long period like an enduring Atlas. Continue to educate yourself. Then part with it only to pass it down to the next generation or only after great strain. Whatever you sell it for must have a significant impact on your quality of life or preserve whatever good is left in the world. If not, don’t. Human beings have this innate tendency to be remembered for the things they have accumulated throughout life. In the ancient past, they built monoliths and pyramids in remembrance. In the future, it will be a digitized time chain keeping a record of peer-to-peer transactions and data that man will be remembered upon. Bitcoin will stick around even if the internet shuts down or the threat of nuclear war is imminent. Bitcoin allows your wealth to remain on the blockchain ledger and out of the hands of banks and the bandits that scavenge upon the allure of unsecured riches. Bitcoin is the ultimate sound money in all its linear regression. Many have claimed it to be alien technology or curated by the NSA, even something as far-fetched as being created by a cult. Bitcoin is no cyanide-laced Kool-Aid; it is a monetary network built on network effect game theory. It’s a network with no leader(s). It’s a network that’s entirely inclusive for all. It’s a network that instills trust and love in a community of because it’s a transparent truth machine that allows us to share the same vision. I believe it was created out of the plight of the human condition. It appeared because it was needed to level the playing field after Occupy Wall Street. Bitcoin is a collective checkmate on corruption by multiple software engineers under the mysterious name Satoshi Nakamoto. bitcoiners Unlike the old currencies, Bitcoin cannot be altered or seized by tyrants that become drunk on the power of money printing. Bitcoin enriches your savings over time. Humans went from giving their best years to family and children to corporations and careers and consider it progress. That is not what progress should look like. Suppose you have parents or grandparents that are not financially secure after toiling away at multiple jobs for decades. Bitcoin is for them, and it’s for you. There is a saying I have come up with regarding earning money in its current state. Fiat money is like holding sand between closed fists. Once you open them to spend some, it slips through your fingertips, forcing you to have to work harder to regain some more. The manipulation of the stock market, precious metal market, and real estate market will no longer be trusted but verified thanks to Bitcoin. If they even exist at all in the future, Bitcoin will redirect the mentality of profit, gain, and loss in the corrupted fiat system. When you hand someone a dollar, it can be counterfeit. When you trade gold, it can be fake without proper assaying. When you send Bitcoin to a wallet, it has to be authentic. If it’s not, it just won’t work, and the receiver will know immediately they didn’t get paid in legitimate currency. It’s a purely trustless system, thanks to Proof of work. Bitcoin is not a get-rich-quick scheme, and it is a not get-poor, slowly overtime scheme. There will be many so-called Bitcoin kryptonite solutions in the future. Some will be packaged in Proof of stake protocols or NFTs and even some new snazzy decentralized coin all the teeny boppers are raving about. They are mainly distractions designed to siphon your investment dollars away from Bitcoin. Every year there is a new project claiming to be the next Bitcoin but why are they trying to be second best? Bitcoin will not capitulate. If you can’t beat em join em. . Bitcoin is collectively mined, the rewards are divided among everyone who participates. No changes can be made unless there’s a consensus, the code is open source, the blockchain ledger is entirely transparent, and everyone has an equal vote. This is what separates Bitcoin from the pack, the Alpha. Once any intelligent, open-minded investor looks at what this thing called Bitcoin represents, they will have a hard time not being enamored with all its possibilities. Nations are adopting Bitcoin as legal tender Also published here.

Bitcoin Will Save Us All: Why You Should Still Invest

The Spirit of the New World

White Boy

Chico blanco

Garçon blanc

गोरा लड़का

白人男子

Rapaz branco

Cậu bé trắng

白人男孩

Requesting and receiving data from internet sources is one of the basics of programming but isn’t taught  by most ‘Learn to Code <Programming Language>’ courses. For self-taught programmers, this is one of the skills that will get you moving further along your learning journey and make you better than 90% of the others. What is an API? Short for Application Programming Interface, API helps a program fetch information from various internet sources. Let’s say you’re building a basic currency conversion program in python. It takes an input amount of currency X and converts it into currency Y Sample Code for reference: def currency_converter ():

    currency_a = input ("Enter the currency you want to convert: ")

    currency_b = input ("Enter the currency you want to convert to: ")

    amount = float (input ("Enter the amount you want to convert: "))

    exchange_rate = float (input ("Enter the exchange rate: "))

    print(f"{amount} {currency_a} is equal to \
        {amount * exchange_rate} {currency_b}")
    
currency_converter () This program in its current form is no more than a glorified calculator - not of much use as a program. This is where APIs come in!! With a few lines of code, this program can be made so powerful that it does not need to ask for the exchange rate. Instead, with APIs, the code would be able to fetch the current exchange rate and provide it to the program. Need to make a program to give the country code for an input country? There’s an API for that. Inventory in your warehouse? Data in your spreadsheet? Payment confirmation? Email notification? All done with APIs! To put it simply, APIs enable communications between computing devices in a standardized manner. For example, if you go to Germany and use an interpreter to help translate for you, the interpreter is the API. Components of an API . An API has 3 elements - Request, Response, and Resource Request - You asking the interpreter to say ‘Good Day’ to a German is the request Response - What the German said back is the response Resource - The data within the response (‘Guten Tag’) is the resource In our program above, let’s see what the API needs to do: """

Request -- Our program requests for the currency_a -> currency_b exchange rate

Response -- API endpoint reads our request, fetches that information, and responds back

Resource -- The exchange rate data sent back is the resource

""" API Endpoint? What’s that? As we know by now (as self-taught programmers) that computers need very precise inputs in a very precise manner. Any deviation or any expectation from the computer to ‘understand things as we do’ is just going to lead to chaos! In that vein, we must understand that even API requests need to be structured in a very precise way. This is what the general structure of an API looks like: -- This is the URL that receives the API Endpoint Request. -- This is the type of API request and is of several types such as: Method GET -- indicates that the request is looking to fetch info from the server. POST -- indicates that the request is looking to send some info to a server. DELETE -- indicates that the request is looking to delete some info from the server. PUT/PATCH -- indicates that the request is looking to update existing info on the server. -- This provides some context about the Requested. Header Resource -- This is the main part of the request that triggers the Body Response. CRUD Responses CRUD stands for Create, Read, Update, and Delete and is performed by using the relevant API method in the API Request: API Method Response Description GET Read fetches existing info from the server POST Create adds info to the server DELETE Delete deletes info on the server PUT/PATCH Update updates info on the server Fetching Realtime Currency Rates into our Program Now we’re sufficiently ready to fetch the real-time currency rates into our sample program given earlier. We’ll be using the requests module for this exercise which you can get via pip3 install requests in your code editor’s (like VSCode) terminal. APIs that provide data come in Free and Paid forms - depending on the ease of use. I found a free source and shall be using it because it does not force me to sign up as long as I’m just testing here. ExchangeRateAPI API data usually comes in the form of a JSON (very similar to a dictionary in python) for easy interpretation by the programmers fetching that data. Here’s the code for fetching the current price of the US Dollar via the API. import requests
url =  "https://open.er-api.com/v6/latest/USD"
r = requests.get(url)
data = r.json()
print (data) Running this code will output the following: {'result': 'success', 
'provider': 'https://www.exchangerate-api.com', 
'documentation': 'https://www.exchangerate-api.com/docs/free', 
'terms_of_use': 'https://www.exchangerate-api.com/terms', 
'time_last_update_unix': 1666828952, 
'time_last_update_utc': 'Thu, 27 Oct 2022 00:02:32 +0000', 
'time_next_update_unix': 1666916222, 
'time_next_update_utc': 'Fri, 28 Oct 2022 00:17:02 +0000', 
'time_eol_unix': 0, 
'base_code': 'USD', 
'rates': {'USD': 1, 'AED': 3.6725, 'AFN': 87.825832, 'ALL': 118.121569, 
'AMD': 400.945057, 'ANG': 1.79, 'AOA': 469.341287, 'ARS': 155.541325, 'AUD': 1.541873,
 'AWG': 1.79, 'AZN': 1.703727, 'BAM': 1.945846, 'BBD': 2, 'BDT': 101.652423, 
'BGN': 1.946569, 'BHD': 0.376, 'BIF': 2061.89311, 'BMD': 1, 'BND': 1.40599, 
'BOB': 6.931975, 'BRL': 5.314395, 'BSD': 1, 'BTN': 81.988812, 'BWP': 13.376498, 
'BYN': 2.887549, 'BZD': 2, 'CAD': 1.355432, 'CDF': 2080.191892, 'CHF': 0.986916, 
'CLP': 967.707002, 'CNY': 7.181598, 'COP': 4992.818412, 'CRC': 624.374829, 'CUP': 24, 
'CVE': 109.702113, 'CZK': 24.428037, 'DJF': 177.721, 'DKK': 7.422296, 'DOP': 53.948303,
 'DZD': 140.691654, 'EGP': 19.734057, 'ERN': 15, 'ETB': 53.10939, 'EUR': 0.994984, 
'FJD': 2.280573, 'FKP': 0.862476, 'FOK': 7.422296, 'GBP': 0.862495, 'GEL': 2.780813, 
'GGP': 0.862476, 'GHS': 14.477856, 'GIP': 0.862476, 'GMD': 60.196663, 
'GNF': 8658.722933, 'GTQ': 7.851475, 'GYD': 210.222337, 'HKD': 7.848858, 
'HNL': 24.756699, 'HRK': 7.496037, 'HTG': 127.760311, 'HUF': 407.402111, 
'IDR': 15518.182729, 'ILS': 3.502567, 'IMP': 0.862476, 'INR': 81.991335, 
'IQD': 1466.589463, 'IRR': 42121.422024, 'ISK': 142.934149, 'JEP': 0.862476, 
'JMD': 153.171604, 'JOD': 0.709, 'JPY': 146.478104, 'KES': 121.814832, 
'KGS': 83.278965, 'KHR': 4159.804229, 'KID': 1.541816, 'KMF': 489.456326, 
'KRW': 1414.443423, 'KWD': 0.29963, 'KYD': 0.833333, 'KZT': 470.670656, 
'LAK': 17297.850805, 'LBP': 1507.5, 'LKR': 362.205766, 'LRD': 154.022883, 
'LSL': 17.964161, 'LYD': 5.043916, 'MAD': 10.860577, 'MDL': 19.373927, 
'MGA': 4262.390442, 'MKD': 61.999441, 'MMK': 2425.598271, 'MNT': 3414.010756, 
'MOP': 8.084315, 'MRU': 38.145372, 'MUR': 43.95057, 'MVR': 15.474793, 
'MWK': 1033.698319, 'MXN': 19.911183, 'MYR': 4.709804, 'MZN': 64.481751, 
'NAD': 17.964161, 'NGN': 437.991325, 'NIO': 36.062907, 'NOK': 10.27411, 
'NPR': 131.1821, 'NZD': 1.717982, 'OMR': 0.384497, 'PAB': 1, 'PEN': 3.994793, 
'PGK': 3.535979, 'PHP': 58.319524, 'PKR': 220.984121, 'PLN': 4.728217, 
'PYG': 7249.701869, 'QAR': 3.64, 'RON': 4.844272, 'RSD': 116.906933, 
'RUB': 61.346183, 'RWF': 1075.383068, 'SAR': 3.75, 'SBD': 8.07199, 'SCR': 13.126076, 
'SDG': 572.688874, 'SEK': 10.875131, 'SGD': 1.405948, 'SHP': 0.862476, 
'SLE': 17.636956, 'SLL': 17636.95595, 'SOS': 571.245973, 'SRD': 29.467417, 
'SSP': 611.916602, 'STN': 24.374931, 'SYP': 2514.92413, 'SZL': 17.964161, 
'THB': 37.747911, 'TJS': 10.200292, 'TMT': 3.504191, 'TND': 3.085688, 
'TOP': 2.388017, 'TRY': 18.607129, 'TTD': 6.77608, 'TVD': 1.541816, 
'TWD': 32.049926, 'TZS': 2335.14976, 'UAH': 37.234725, 'UGX': 3826.845217, 
'UYU': 41.283595, 'UZS': 11139.838897, 'VES': 8.4508, 'VND': 24821.263771, 
'VUV': 122.039898, 'WST': 2.787278, 'XAF': 652.608434, 'XCD': 2.7, 'XDR': 0.774448, 
'XOF': 652.608434, 'XPF': 118.722827, 'YER': 251.106608, 'ZAR': 17.964381, 
'ZMW': 16.127703, 'ZWL': 644.87339}} Looking at this JSON (Imma call it a dictionary from hereon for pythonic reasons), we see that the currency rates against that of the USD as base currency are given in the internal dictionary which can be accessed with the key. rates The actual conversion rate to a particular currency can be accessed by using the desired currency’s 3-letter currency code. For example, to get the conversion rate to INR (Indian Rupee), I will first need to use the key and then the key within the key. rates INR rates Case-sensitivity is important in most APIs so we’ll need to plan for that in our code as well. The code to get the USD to INR conversion rate, the code in python would look like this - inr_rate = data['rates'].get('INR', 'Not Found') Let’s now update our original code to become less of a calculator and more of a computer: import requests

def currency_converter ():
    currency_a = input ("Enter the currency you want to convert: ")
    currency_a = currency_a.upper() 
    #accepts user input for base currency name and converts it to uppercase
    
    currency_b = input ("Enter the currency you want to convert to: ")
    currency_b = currency_b.upper() 
    #accepts user input for final currency name and converts it to uppercase
    
    currency_converter_api = "https://open.er-api.com/v6/latest/" + currency_a
    #makes currency_a the base currency
    
    api_response = requests.get(currency_converter_api)
    #fetches the api response - the R from CRUD
    
    api_response_json = api_response.json()
    #Converts the response object into a JSON object
    
    amount_to_convert = float (input (f"Enter the amount of {currency_a} \
      you want to convert to {currency_b}: "))
    #accepts user input for the amount to convert as a float
    
    try:
        exchange_rate = api_response_json['rates'].get(currency_b, \
          'Currency Not Supported by API')

        if exchange_rate == 'Currency Not Supported by API':

            print ("Final Currency Not Supported by API")

        else:

            converted_amount = amount_to_convert * exchange_rate

            print (f"{amount_to_convert} {currency_a} is \
              equal to {converted_amount} {currency_b}")
    
    except KeyError:
        print ("Base Currency Not Supported by API")
    # for catching errors is the base currency name is not supported by the API
    
currency_converter () There you go - now it does a little better: Converting 5000 INR to EUR (successful conversion calculation): """
Enter the currency you want to convert: inr
Enter the currency you want to convert to: eur
Enter the amount of INR you want to convert to EUR: 5000
5000.0 INR is equal to 60.72 EUR
""" Converting unsupported currency (error-handling): """
Enter the currency you want to convert: utsav
Enter the currency you want to convert to: inr
Enter the amount of UTSAV you want to convert to INR: 45
Base Currency Not Supported by API
""" Converting TO Unsupported currency (error-handling): """
Enter the currency you want to convert: inr
Enter the currency you want to convert to: utsav
Enter the amount of INR you want to convert to UTSAV: 89
Final Currency Not Supported by API
""" Some Final Notes: While we've used print statements here for illustrative reasons, if you’re building an app, avoid print statements and use return instead Some premium APIs (paid) offer better sources, the ability to take full-name inputs (Indian Rupee) or just country as input (USA) and respond with the desired response Most APIs require the use of API keys for authentication and DDoS prevention features. Read more about them . here Resource Attributions: RapidAPI #API on HackerNoon Recommended Readings: Low Code APIs Error-Handling in React APIs Using Google Sheets API in Python Securing your API data GraphQL API

API for Beginners: Requests, Responses, Resources, and GET Explained with Code

It’s Snoop Dogg’s metaverse. We’re just living in it. The Doggfather is among a growing number of celebrities claiming their own corner of the metaverse - a connected virtual world where people live through avatars. And Snoop came to play. In 2021, he began building the on . The Sandbox is an Ethereum-based decentralized gaming virtual world where users can create, sell, use, and monetize their own nonfungible tokens ( -- or unique digital assets that can be bought and sold online). On February 22, he took a big step forward with the Snoopverse by unleashing the Doggies, an NFT collection of 10,000 Snoop Dogg avatars. The Doggies are playable in The Sandbox (starting with the launch of Alpha Season 2). Each Doggy costs 150 (the cryptocurrency used throughout The Sandbox ecosystem as the basis for transactions and interactions). Snoopverse The Sandbox NFTs SAND Of course, you didn’t expect an ordinary avatar collection from Snoop Dogg, did you? No, the Doggies are lit. They run the range from alien to zombie, each hand-crafted from more than 150 traits. And the Doggies are just one element of the Snoopverse, which consists of a recreation of Snoop Dogg’s real-life mansion in Diamond Bar, California. In December 2021, Snoop started an initial land sale to allow players to purchase property in his neighborhood. One NFT collector . Premium users (i.e., people willing to fork over the money) get access to goodies such as concerts and private pool parties in the Snoopverse. paid $450,000 to be his neighbor Snoop Dogg is not the only celebrity embracing the metaverse. The likes of are adopting building blocks of the metaverse, notably by minting NFTs. Musicians including Ariana Grande have performed virtual concerts in virtual worlds such as Fortnite. But Snoop Dogg is all-in. Not only did he build the Snoopverse, he also bought Death Row Records and promptly announced that he will . Paris Hilton convert the company into the first NFT record label Why? First off, Snoop Dogg is more than a musician. He’s a brand. And this is true of all celebrities. Celebrities understand the power of their names and their appeal to everyday people. They monetize the value of their names with enterprises such as products, endorsement deals, and personal appearances. Monetizing their presence in the metaverse is a logical extension of what they’re doing already in the analog and digital worlds. In addition, musicians such as Snoop Dogg possess a special place in the hearts of their fans. Snoop Dogg helped define the West Coast rap sound in the 1990s. For , his music defined the sound of the 1990s, period. In the 2000s, he reinvented himself as an all-purpose entertainer, entrepreneur, and pop culture fixture while continuing to crank out music that, if less influential than his breakout work from the 1990s, remained popular. His recent appearance at the Super Bowl LVI Halftime Show underscored his enduring power and relevance to contemporary audiences. Gen X and Millennial generations in particular As a music mogul, Snoop Dogg taps into the emotional bond he has with fans to create economic value. Because he reinvented himself beyond music, he enjoys a broader following with fans who may not necessarily identify with his music but connect to his brand, which overlaps with fashion, cannabis (especially cannabis), investing, and even the world of Martha Stewart. He’s built that brand into a . multi-million dollar empire It's also clear now that the metaverse plays into a vertically integrated strategy for creating music. Two days after announcing the acquisition of Death Row, Snoop Dogg released his 20th studio album, BODR (Bacc on Death Row), his first under the Death Row label under his ownership. One of the Songs, “House I Built,” was a statement of purpose for Snoop Dogg’s future: Walkin' through The Sandbox with flip-flops on This reminds me of a hip-hop song (Right on) No Instagrams, no TikToks on You run up on the Dogg and get bip-bopped on (Bip-bopped on?) Back in the days, yeah, they took my songs But if I get back, then I could live like that (Facts) See, we don’t cry over spilled milk I'm Snoop Dogg, baby, and I'm smooth as silk We keep blowin' trees, all these emergencies A hundred-million-dollar deals with this cryptocurrency Spitter, hitter, did her, get her, man, I got a lotta moves Used to spend a lotta bread on a whole lotta jewels Fools learn fast, so I must be the fastest Took all my classes, learned it He has matched his words with actions . In addition to streaming BODR, he announced that he would be releasing BODR through a partnership with blockchain platform . Through a branded , he released tracks as NFTs. Buying an NFT gave listeners not only music but rewards such as future drops and concert attendance opportunities. , “Owners of all 17 songs will receive massive real-life and digital rewards, including an exclusive concert and pre-party with Snoop, limited edition Death Row bling, and more.” As of this writing, Stash Box sales . with the guidance of his son, Cordell Broadus Gala Games BODR Stash Box Per Gala Games had generated about $44 million in revenue Stash Box and Doggie avatars are not even his first foray into NFTs. He’s been avidly collecting NFTs under the alias , and he’s been making them, too. For instance, on April 20, 2021, he with the digital artist behind the Nyan Cat meme. In November, he that sold for about $750,000. Cozomo de’ Medici released a collaboration minted an NFT Now, imagine what he might accomplish by turning Death Row into an NFT music company? This is a label with nowhere to go but up. Death Row is long past its glory days when the company released Snoop Dogg’s first album, , in 1993. Since declaring bankruptcy in 2006, Death Row has been bought and sold among various owners, including, improbably, the Hasbro toy company. Doggystyle It’s clear that Snoop Dogg’s Stash Box is a template for how Death Row will operate. Death Row’s has an NFT tab, which takes visitors to Gala Games, and the . A number of tantalizing questions remain, such as: website now Gala Games site features Death Row and Snoop Dogg NFTs What will be the relationship between the Snoopverse on The Sandbox and Death Row on Gala Games? What kind of branding synergies might exist? Will the Snoopverse also be a distribution platform for Death Row NFTs even though Gala Games is already doing that? When we begin to see the real operability that the metaverse promises, will Snoop Dogg avatars from the Snoopverse be able to move easily into the Gala Games universe? That’s the promise of the metaverse, anyway. What will the reality look like when intellectual property rights get factored in? Snoop Dogg’s adoption of NFTs also matters for another reason: he’s casting a spotlight on the value of , not just the uber-wealthy. NFTs for all musicians A number of lesser-known, less wealthy musicians have been turning to NFTs to generate income. This is out of necessity. The coronavirus pandemic has denied musicians the ability to earn money from touring, and streaming platforms are not a viable source of income. NFTs give musicians the chance to gain fan loyalty by selling not only music but incentives such as the digital rewards that Snoop Dogg offers through the Stash Box. NFTs and cryptocurrencies are empowering indie artists everywhere, including , , , , and many others. For example, Daniel Allan built a fan following on the Discord server during the pandemic and used NFTs to crowdfund his EP in exchange for 50 percent of the artist share of Overstimulated’s master royalties. Investors in the $OVERSTIM digital currency share in the profits, with top investors getting special access to perks such as private listening parties and headline shows. He also sells songs on an NFT music platform known as Catalog. He Time magazine that building a fan base on Discord is crucial to his success because Discord attracts digital currency enthusiasts. He said, “I don’t think this creates rich artists. What this does is create a musical middle class.” Ibn Inglor Curren$y Mick Jenkins Thoughts Detecting Machines Overstimulated told No wonder, as Venture Beat , NFTs may very well redefine the future of the music industry. noted Snoop Dogg is demonstrating what a wealthy and powerful music mogul can accomplish during the formative years of the metaverse. He may also be pointing the way for the entire industry.

How Snoop Dogg Masters the Metaverse

**LONDON, UK, June 26th, 2024/Chainwire/--**The integration with Sui includes custody support for L1 and L2, built-in staking support, and DeFi connectivity. Copper, a leader in digital asset custody, collateral management, and prime services, is excited to announce its latest integration with Sui, a high-performance Layer 1 blockchain and smart contract platform. The strategic partnership will enable robust custody infrastructure support for stablecoin and Real-World Asset (RWA) issuers on Sui such as Ondo (USDY), marking a significant advancement in connecting institutional finance to on-chain opportunities on the Sui Network. With Copper on board, the Sui ecosystem now has built additional foundational infrastructure necessary to enable institutional players to leverage Sui’s industry-leading decentralized technology platform, addressing the need for financial institutions seeking efficient treasury services for their tokens. “This strategic partnership, integrating Copper’s enterprise-grade custody tooling, exemplifies the continued maturation of the Sui ecosystem into a platform capable of supporting the heightened infrastructure needs of Sui’s institutional builders and users,” said Greg Siourounis, Managing Director of the Sui Foundation. “We are truly excited about the number and diversity of new projects and assets this partnership will enable for both the Copper and Sui ecosystems.” The first phase of support, encompassing SUI and native Sui-tokens is currently complete, making Copper a custodian for these assets. The immediate availability of Copper’s infrastructure on Sui means it is ready to serve the needs of large institutional traders and market makers today. Further features in staking and DeFi are in development and will be integrated soon, significantly expanding the functionality of Copper’s offerings on Sui. “We’re excited to be a part of the SUI ecosystem with Copper as custodian,” commented Dmitry Tokarev, CEO of Copper. “With staking and DeFi features currently in development, we’re looking forward to the evolution of this partnership.” Contact Sui Foundation media@sui.io This story was distributed as a release by Chainwire under HackerNoon’s Business Blogging Program. Learn more about the program here. **LONDON, UK, June 26th, 2024/Chainwire/--**The integration with Sui includes custody support for L1 and L2, built-in staking support, and DeFi connectivity. Copper, a leader in digital asset custody, collateral management, and prime services, is excited to announce its latest integration with Sui, a high-performance Layer 1 blockchain and smart contract platform. The strategic partnership will enable robust custody infrastructure support for stablecoin and Real-World Asset (RWA) issuers on Sui such as Ondo (USDY), marking a significant advancement in connecting institutional finance to on-chain opportunities on the Sui Network. With Copper on board, the Sui ecosystem now has built additional foundational infrastructure necessary to enable institutional players to leverage Sui’s industry-leading decentralized technology platform, addressing the need for financial institutions seeking efficient treasury services for their tokens. “This strategic partnership, integrating Copper’s enterprise-grade custody tooling, exemplifies the continued maturation of the Sui ecosystem into a platform capable of supporting the heightened infrastructure needs of Sui’s institutional builders and users,” said Greg Siourounis, Managing Director of the Sui Foundation. “We are truly excited about the number and diversity of new projects and assets this partnership will enable for both the Copper and Sui ecosystems.” The first phase of support, encompassing SUI and native Sui-tokens is currently complete, making Copper a custodian for these assets. The immediate availability of Copper’s infrastructure on Sui means it is ready to serve the needs of large institutional traders and market makers today. Further features in staking and DeFi are in development and will be integrated soon, significantly expanding the functionality of Copper’s offerings on Sui. “We’re excited to be a part of the SUI ecosystem with Copper as custodian,” commented Dmitry Tokarev, CEO of Copper. “With staking and DeFi features currently in development, we’re looking forward to the evolution of this partnership.” “We’re excited to be a part of the SUI ecosystem with Copper as custodian,” commented Dmitry Tokarev, CEO of Copper. “With staking and DeFi features currently in development, we’re looking forward to the evolution of this partnership.” Contact Sui Foundation media@sui.io This story was distributed as a release by Chainwire under HackerNoon’s Business Blogging Program. Learn more about the program here. This story was distributed as a release by Chainwire under HackerNoon’s Business Blogging Program. Learn more about the program here . here here

Copper And Sui Partner To Build Out Full Institutional Accessibility

Linux is one of the most popular operating systems (technically, Linux is just the Kernel) and has many types (distribution/distro). It may be unclear to choose which one to use, from beginner-friendly distro to those used for special needs. Linux users who use Linux as a daily driver usually have tried a lot of distros before sticking to one. Distro Hoppers Distro Hoppers is a term for users who often change distros regularly. The reason can vary: try new challenges, different features, and different purposes of the distro. Distro hopping is sometimes considered bad because it requires much time and offers little benefit. This article will discuss tools and advice for Distro Hoppers. Virtual Machine: Virtualbox/KVM The virtual Machine application is useful for trying the Linux distro before you even consider installing it or burning it on your flash disk. It is important to have a taste before installing it so you're not wasting so much time if you don't like the distro in the first place. Backups Backup is important to prevent data loss after installing a new Linux distribution. There are several ways. Using backup tools, e.g., , , etc. rsync Timeshift Separate partition for data, or separate partition for directory. With this approach, you must mount that partition after installing the new distribution. /home Save all data to the cloud. Several are out there, e.g., pCloud and MEGA. Just remember only to use a provider that has a Linux Client app. providers I recommend the last approach because saving important data on a local computer is not good practice. USB Bootable: Ventoy is an open-source tool to create a bootable USB drive for ISO/WIM/IMG/VHD(x)/EFI files. Using Ventoy, we can create live USB for multiple distros in one flash disk. This is a revolutionary feature compared to other tools, e.g., Etcher, Rufus, etc., that can only create one live USB at a time. This tool is so important. Don't call yourself a distro hopper if you don't know this tool. Ventoy Package Manager: Flatpak Hopping from one distro to another with a different package manager might require some time to adapt. Using a package manager that can be installed on most distro is one way to help you get to work faster. is one of them; other alternatives are , , or . Flatpak is a good starter, and if you have a bunch of free time, I suggest trying Nix. Flatpak Snap Nix Homebrew Development: Docker With DevContainer If you are using Linux, I think it's safe to assume that your job is somewhat related to programming. Setting up a development environment for a Software Engineer can be a hurdle. The development environment might require installing many tools, e.g., programming language, database, monitoring tools, etc. Docker with DevContainer is one of the fastest solutions to create a development environment faster, even after hopping from several distros. is a containerization tool that ships your app with all the necessary dependencies. Using makes developing software inside a container possible. Several editors, e.g., Visual Studio Code and JetBrains, already support DevContainer. If you use other editors like VIM or Helix, you might develop software directly inside the container or need to find another workaround. But if you are too lazy to configure VIM like me, use VSCode. Docker DevContainer Honorable Mentions Distrobox is a tool that enables us to try Linux distro CLI, including their package manager. This requires a containerization tool (e.g., Docker). In Windows, this can be achieved using WSL (Windows Subsystem for Linux) Distrobox EasyBCD is a Windows app that can modify the Bootloader if you dual-boot with Windows. I use this tool to remove Linux Grub when distro hopping. EasyBCD Conclusion Distro Hopping is not always bad, especially if you want to learn something new. Do this responsibly so it doesn't bother your work or your time with family. Utilize the tools above to minimize the time wasted, or even better if there is a separate computer just for that. OK, that's all for now. I hope you gain some insight and become better Distro Hoppers. Thank you. Also published here

Tools for Linux Distro Hoppers: A Beginner-Friendly Guide

Let's learn about via these 65 free stories. They are ordered by most time reading created on HackerNoon. Visit the to find the most read stories about any technology. David Copperfield /Learn Repo 1. David Copperfield: PREFACE TO THE CHARLES DICKENS EDITION David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens is part of HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here: [LINK TO TABLE OF LINK]. PREFACE TO THE CHARLES DICKENS EDITION 2. David Copperfield: Chapter 31 -  A Greater Loss For years and years, Mr. Barkis had carried this box, on all his journeys, every day. 3. David Copperfield: Chapter 40 - The Wanderer The wind had gone down with the light, and so the snow had come on. It was a heavy, settled fall, I recollect, in great flakes; and it lay thick. 4. David Copperfield: Chapter 37 - A Little Cold Water My new life had lasted for more than a week, and I was stronger than ever in those tremendous practical resolutions that I felt the crisis required. 5. David Copperfield: Chapter 24 - My First Dissipation It was fine in the morning, particularly in the fine mornings. It looked a very fresh, free life, by daylight: still fresher, and more free, by sunlight. 6. David Copperfield: Chapter 30 - A Loss ‘Why, bless my life and soul!’ said Mr. Omer, ‘how do you find yourself? Take a seat.—-Smoke not disagreeable, I hope?’ 7. David Copperfield: Chapter 64 - A Last  Retrospect And now my written story ends. I look back, once more—for the last time—before I close these leaves. 8. David Copperfield: Chapter 20 - Steerforth's Home It was no matter of wonder to me to find Mrs. Steerforth devoted to her son. 9. David Copperfield: Chapter 6 - I Enlarge My Circle of Acquaintance One day I was informed by Mr. Mell that Mr. Creakle would be home that evening. 10. David Copperfield: Chapter 15 - I Make Another Beginning Mr. Dick and I soon became the best of friends, and very often, when his day’s work was done, went out together to fly the great kite. 11. David Copperfield: Chapter 29 - I Visit Steerforth At His Home, Again I mentioned to Mr. Spenlow in the morning, that I wanted leave of absence for a short time 12. David Copperfield: Chapter 12 - Liking Life On My Own Account No Better, I Form A Great Resolution In due time, Mr. Micawber’s petition was ripe for hearing; and that gentleman was ordered to be discharged under the Act, to my great joy. 13. David Copperfield: Chapter 50 - Mr. Peggotty's Dream Comes True A fearful cry followed the word. I paused a moment, and looking in, saw him supporting her insensible figure in his arms. 14. David Copperfield: Chapter 18 - A Retrospect But who is this that breaks upon me? This is Miss Shepherd, whom I love. 15. David Copperfield: Chapter 2 - I Observe There comes out of the cloud, our house—not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. 16. David Copperfield: Chapter 47 - Martha A glimpse of the river through a dull gateway, where some waggons were housed for the night, seemed to arrest my feet. 17. David Copperfield: Chapter 60 - Agnes ‘You will find her,’ pursued my aunt, ‘as good, as beautiful, as earnest, as disinterested, as she has always been. 18. David Copperfield: Chapter 58 - Absence I left all who were dear to me, and went away; and believed that I had borne it, and it was past. 19. David Copperfield: Chapter 1 Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. 20. David Copperfield: Chapter 56 - The New Wound , And The Old From the first moment of her dark eyes resting on me, I saw she knew I was the bearer of evil tidings. 21. David Copperfield: Chapter 57 - The Emigrants It was, to conceal what had occurred, from those who were going away; and to dismiss them on their voyage in happy ignorance. In this, no time was to be lost. 22. David Copperfield: Chapter 38 - A Dissolution Of Partnership I forgot them; while I was picking them up, I dropped the other fragments of the system; in short, it was almost heart-breaking. 23. David Copperfield: Chapter 34 - My Aunt Astonishes Me As if, in love, joy, sorrow, hope, or disappointment; in all emotions; my heart turned naturally there, and found its refuge and best friend. 24. David Copperfield: Chapter 63 - A Visitor I had advanced in fame and fortune, my domestic joy was perfect, I had been married ten happy years. 25. David Copperfield: Chapter 26 - I Fall Into Captivity I could not get over this farewell glimpse of them for a long time. 26. David Copperfield: Chapter 9 - I Have A Memorable Birthday I PASS over all that happened at school, until the anniversary of my birthday came round in March. 27. David Copperfield - TABLE OF LINKS David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens is part of the HackerNoon Books series. Read this book online for free on HackerNoon! 28. David Copperfield: Chapter 55 - Tempest ‘Good-bye for ever. Now, my dear, my friend, good-bye for ever in this world. 29. David Copperfield: Chapter 43 - Another Retrospect Once again, let me pause upon a memorable period of my life. Let me stand aside, to see the phantoms of those days go by me, accompanying the shadow of myself. 30. David Copperfield: Chapter 46 - Intelligence The vaunting cruelty with which she met my glance, I never saw expressed in any other face that ever I have seen. 31. David Copperfield: Chapter 44 - Our Housekeeping —all the romance of our engagement put away upon a shelf, to rust—no one to please but one another—one another to please, for life. 32. David Copperfield: Chapter 45 - Mr. Dick Fulfils My Aunt's Predictions She was exactly the same as ever, and the same immortal butterflies hovered over her cap. 33. David Copperfield: Chapter 14 - My Aunt Makes Up Her Mind About Me My spirits sank under these words, and I became very downcast and heavy of heart. 34. David Copperfield: Chapter 61 - I am Shown Two Interesting Penitents This sentiment gave unbounded satisfaction—greater satisfaction, I think, than anything that had passed yet. 35. David Copperfield: Chapter 62 - A Light Shines On My Way She did not once show me any change in herself. What she always had been to me, she still was; wholly unaltered. 36. David Copperfield: Chapter 11 - I Begin Life On My Own Account, And Don't Like It I know enough of the world now, to have almost lost the capacity of being much surprised by anything 37. David Copperfield: Chapter 53 - Another Retrospect I try to stay my tears, and to reply, ‘Oh, Dora, love, as fit as I to be a husband!’ 38. David Copperfield: Chapter 4 - I Fall Into Disgrace He drew her to him, whispered in her ear, and kissed her. 39. David Copperfield: Chapter 33 -  Blissful Her idea was my refuge in disappointment and distress, and made some amends to me, even for the loss of my friend. 40. David Copperfield: Chapter 27 - Tommy Traddles The general air of the place reminded me forcibly of the days when I lived with Mr. and Mrs. Micawber. 41. David Copperfield: Chapter 19 - I Look About Me, And Make A Discovery I am doubtful whether I was at heart glad or sorry, when my school-days drew to an end, and the time came for my leaving Doctor Strong’s. 42. David Copperfield: Chapter 48 -Domestic It is not my purpose, in this record, though in all other essentials it is my written memory, to pursue the history of my own fictions. 43. David Copperfield: Chapter 59 - Return I have often remarked—I suppose everybody has—that one’s going away from a familiar place, would seem to be the signal for change in it. 44. David Copperfield: Chapter 51 - The Beginning Of A Longer Journey And Mrs. Gummidge took his hand, and kissed it with a homely pathos and affection, in a homely rapture of devotion and gratitude, that he well deserved. 45. David Copperfield: Chapter 36 - Enthusiasm With the new life, came new purpose, new intention. Great was the labour; priceless the reward. Dora was the reward, and Dora must be won. 46. David Copperfield: Chapter  7 - My 'First Half' at Salem House Not that I mean to say these were special marks of distinction, which only I received. 47. David Copperfield: Chapter 32 - The Beginning Of A Long Journey What is natural in me, is natural in many other men, I infer, and so I am not afraid to write that I never had loved Steerforth 48. David Copperfield: Chapter 54 - Mr. Micawber's Transactions ‘Now’s the day, and now’s the hour,
See the front of battle lower,
See approach proud EDWARD’S power—
Chains and slavery! 49. David Copperfield: Chapter 23 - I Corroborate Mr. Dick, And Choose A Propession When I awoke in the morning I thought very much of little Em’ly, and her emotion last night, after Martha had left. 50. David Copperfield: Chapter 16 - I am A New Boy in More Senses Than One Next morning, after breakfast, I entered on school life again. I went, accompanied by Mr. Wickfield, to the scene of my future studies 51. David Copperfield: Chapter 42 -Mischief My meaning simply is, that whatever I have tried to do in life, I have tried with all my heart to do well; 52. David Copperfield: Chapter 28 - Mr. Micawber's Gauntlet Until the day arrived on which I was to entertain my newly-found old friends, I lived principally on Dora and coffee. 53. David Copperfield: Chapter 17 - Somebody Turns Up ‘I suppose history never lies, does it?’ said Mr. Dick, with a gleam of hope. 54. David Copperfield: Chapter 49 - I am Involved In My Mystery I never saw a man so hot in my life. I tried to calm him, that we might come to something rational; but he got hotter and hotter, and wouldn’t hear a word. 55. David Copperfield: Chapter 3 - I Have A Change If it had been Aladdin’s palace, roc’s egg and all, I suppose I could not have been more charmed with the romantic idea of living in it. 56. David Copperfield: Chapter 8 - My Holidays. Especially One Happy Afternoon ‘The message was right enough, perhaps,’ said Mr. Barkis; ‘but it come to an end there.’ 57. David Copperfield: Chapter 41 - Dora's Aunts His honest face, as he looked at me with a serio-comic shake of his head, impresses me more in the remembrance than it did in the reality. 58. David Copperfield: Chapter 35 - Depression ‘My dear,’ said my aunt, after taking a spoonful of it; ‘it’s a great deal better than wine. Not half so bilious.’ 59. David Copperfield: Chapter 21 - Little Em'ly Such a self-contained man I never saw. 60. David Copperfield: Chapter 5 - I am Sent Away From Home We might have gone about half a mile, and my pocket-handkerchief was quite wet through, when the carrier stopped short. 61. David Copperfield: Chapter 22 - Some Old Scenes, And Some New People Steerforth and I stayed for more than a fortnight in that part of the country. 62. David Copperfield: Chapter 13 -  The Sequel Of My Resolution A plan had occurred to me for passing the night, which I was going to carry into execution. 63. David Copperfield: Chapter 52 - I Assist At An Explosion I saw, in my aunt’s face, that she began to give way now, and Dora brightened again, as she saw it too. 64. David Copperfield: Chapter 25 - Good And Bad Angles I could scarcely lay claim to the name: I was so disturbed by the conviction that the letter came from Agnes. 65. David Copperfield: Chapter 39 - Wickfield And Heep ‘My dear Copperfield, a man who labours under the pressure of pecuniary embarrassments, is, with the generality of people, at a disadvantage. Thank you for checking out the 65 most read stories about David Copperfield on HackerNoon. to find the most read stories about any technology. Visit the /Learn Repo

65 Stories To Learn About David Copperfield

Scientific American, Vol. XXXVII.—No. 2. [New Series.], July 14, 1877 by Various, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Coating Engraved Copper Plates with Steel. here Coating Engraved Copper Plates with Steel. In order to render copper plates which are used in printing more durable, they can be covered with an electrolytic deposit of iron which possesses an unusual degree of hardness almost superior to steel. The salt usually employed has been the double sulphate of iron and ammonia. Professor Böttger, who first invented this process, has recently devised an improvement in the bath employed. He dissolves 10 parts of ferrocyanide of potassium (yellow prussiate of potash) and 20 parts of the double tartrate of soda and potash (Rochelle salts) in 200 parts of water, and to this he adds 3 parts of persulphate of iron dissolved in 50 parts of water. A large precipitate of Prussian blue is formed. To the whole is added, drop by drop, with constant stirring, a solution of caustic soda until the blue precipitate entirely disappears, leaving a perfectly clear, light yellow liquid, which is now ready for use. Professor Böttger also claims that this solution can be employed with advantage for dyeing cotton yarn and fabrics a beautiful blue, without the use of a mordant. For this purpose the goods are put into the bath, that has previously been slightly warmed, until they are saturated through and through, and then dried in the air, after which they are immersed in extremely dilute sulphuric acid (1 to 50), which neutralizes the alkali, and after washing and drying again they are permanently dyed a fine blue color. 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. Various (2012). Scientific American, Vol. XXXVII. —No. 2. [New Series.], July 14, 1877. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/38481/pg38481-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

Coating Engraved Copper Plates with Steel

COPPERHOUSE CROSS AND BROUGHTON SPINNIES.

The Story-book of Science by Jean-Henri Fabre, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . METALS CHAPTER XII. METALS “COPPER and tin are called metals,” continued Uncle Paul. “They are heavy, shining substances, which bear the blows of the hammer without breaking. They flatten, but do not break. There are still other substances which possess the considerable weight of copper and tin, as well as their brilliancy and resistance to blows. All these substances are called metals.” “Then lead, which is so heavy, is a metal too?” asked Emile. “Iron also, silver and gold?” queried his brother. “Yes, these substances and still others are metals. All have a peculiar brilliancy called metallic luster, but the color varies. Copper is red; gold, yellow; silver, iron, lead, tin, white, with a very slightly different shade one from another.” “The candlesticks Mother Ambroisine is drying in the sun,” said Emile, “are a magnificent yellow and so shiny they dazzle. Are they gold?” “No, my dear child; your uncle does not possess such riches. They are brass. To vary the colors and other properties of the metals, instead of always using them separately, they often mix two or three together, or even more. They melt them together, and the whole constitutes a sort of new metal, different from those which enter into its composition. Thus, in melting together copper and a kind of white metal called zinc, the same as the garden watering-pots are made of, they obtain brass, which has not the red of copper, nor the white of zinc, but the yellow of gold. The material of the candlesticks is, then, made of copper and zinc together; in a word, it is brass, and not gold, in spite of its luster and yellow color. Gold is yellow and glitters; but all that is yellow and glitters is not gold. At the last village fair they sold magnificent rings whose brilliancy deceived you. In gold, they would have cost a fine sum. The merchant sold them for a sou. They were brass.” “How can they tell gold from brass, since the color and luster are almost the same?” asked Jules. “By the weight, chiefly. Gold is much heavier than brass; it is indeed the heaviest metal in frequent use. After it comes lead, then silver, copper, iron, tin, and finally zinc, the lightest of all.” “You told us that to melt copper,” put in Emile, “they needed a fire so intense, that the heat of a red-hot stove would be nothing in comparison. All metals do not resist like that, for I remember very well in what a sorry way the first leaden soldiers you gave me came to their end. Last winter, I had lined them up on the luke-warm stove. Just when I was not watching, the troop tottered, sank down, and ran in little streams of melted lead. I had only time to save half a dozen grenadiers, and their feet were missing.” “And when Mother Ambroisine thoughtlessly put the lamp on the stove,” added Jules, “oh! it was soon done for: a finger’s breadth of tin had disappeared.” “Tin and lead melt very easily,” explained Uncle Paul. “The heat of our hearth is enough to make them run. Zinc also melts without much trouble; but silver, then copper, then gold, and finally iron, need fires of an intensity unknown in our houses. Iron, above all, has excessive resistance, very valuable to us. “Shovels, tongs, grates, stoves, are iron. These various objects, always in contact with the fire, do not melt, however; do not even soften. To soften iron, so as to shape it easily on the anvil by blows from the hammer, the smith needs all the heat of his forge. In vain would he blow and put on coal; he would never succeed in melting it. Iron, however, can be melted, but you must use the most intense heat that human skill can produce.” 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. Jean-Henri Fabre (2018). The Story-book of Science. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/56795/pg56795-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 www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

Copper and tin are called metals

David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens is part of the HackerNoon Books series.
 You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Chapter 64: A Last  Retrospect CHAPTER 64. A LAST RETROSPECT And now my written story ends. I look back, once more—for the last time—before I close these leaves. I see myself, with Agnes at my side, journeying along the road of life. I see our children and our friends around us; and I hear the roar of many voices, not indifferent to me as I travel on. What faces are the most distinct to me in the fleeting crowd? Lo, these; all turning to me as I ask my thoughts the question! Here is my aunt, in stronger spectacles, an old woman of four-score years and more, but upright yet, and a steady walker of six miles at a stretch in winter weather. Always with her, here comes Peggotty, my good old nurse, likewise in spectacles, accustomed to do needle-work at night very close to the lamp, but never sitting down to it without a bit of wax candle, a yard-measure in a little house, and a work-box with a picture of St. Paul’s upon the lid. The cheeks and arms of Peggotty, so hard and red in my childish days, when I wondered why the birds didn’t peck her in preference to apples, are shrivelled now; and her eyes, that used to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, are fainter (though they glitter still); but her rough forefinger, which I once associated with a pocket nutmeg-grater, is just the same, and when I see my least child catching at it as it totters from my aunt to her, I think of our little parlour at home, when I could scarcely walk. My aunt’s old disappointment is set right, now. She is godmother to a real living Betsey Trotwood; and Dora (the next in order) says she spoils her. There is something bulky in Peggotty’s pocket. It is nothing smaller than the Crocodile Book, which is in rather a dilapidated condition by this time, with divers of the leaves torn and stitched across, but which Peggotty exhibits to the children as a precious relic. I find it very curious to see my own infant face, looking up at me from the Crocodile stories; and to be reminded by it of my old acquaintance Brooks of Sheffield. Among my boys, this summer holiday time, I see an old man making giant kites, and gazing at them in the air, with a delight for which there are no words. He greets me rapturously, and whispers, with many nods and winks, ‘Trotwood, you will be glad to hear that I shall finish the Memorial when I have nothing else to do, and that your aunt’s the most extraordinary woman in the world, sir!’ Who is this bent lady, supporting herself by a stick, and showing me a countenance in which there are some traces of old pride and beauty, feebly contending with a querulous, imbecile, fretful wandering of the mind? She is in a garden; and near her stands a sharp, dark, withered woman, with a white scar on her lip. Let me hear what they say. ‘Rosa, I have forgotten this gentleman’s name.’ Rosa bends over her, and calls to her, ‘Mr. Copperfield.’ ‘I am glad to see you, sir. I am sorry to observe you are in mourning. I hope Time will be good to you.’ Her impatient attendant scolds her, tells her I am not in mourning, bids her look again, tries to rouse her. ‘You have seen my son, sir,’ says the elder lady. ‘Are you reconciled?’ Looking fixedly at me, she puts her hand to her forehead, and moans. Suddenly, she cries, in a terrible voice, ‘Rosa, come to me. He is dead!’ Rosa kneeling at her feet, by turns caresses her, and quarrels with her; now fiercely telling her, ‘I loved him better than you ever did!’—now soothing her to sleep on her breast, like a sick child. Thus I leave them; thus I always find them; thus they wear their time away, from year to year. What ship comes sailing home from India, and what English lady is this, married to a growling old Scotch Croesus with great flaps of ears? Can this be Julia Mills? Indeed it is Julia Mills, peevish and fine, with a black man to carry cards and letters to her on a golden salver, and a copper-coloured woman in linen, with a bright handkerchief round her head, to serve her Tiffin in her dressing-room. But Julia keeps no diary in these days; never sings Affection’s Dirge; eternally quarrels with the old Scotch Croesus, who is a sort of yellow bear with a tanned hide. Julia is steeped in money to the throat, and talks and thinks of nothing else. I liked her better in the Desert of Sahara. Or perhaps this IS the Desert of Sahara! For, though Julia has a stately house, and mighty company, and sumptuous dinners every day, I see no green growth near her; nothing that can ever come to fruit or flower. What Julia calls ‘society’, I see; among it Mr. Jack Maldon, from his Patent Place, sneering at the hand that gave it him, and speaking to me of the Doctor as ‘so charmingly antique’. But when society is the name for such hollow gentlemen and ladies, Julia, and when its breeding is professed indifference to everything that can advance or can retard mankind, I think we must have lost ourselves in that same Desert of Sahara, and had better find the way out. And lo, the Doctor, always our good friend, labouring at his Dictionary (somewhere about the letter D), and happy in his home and wife. Also the Old Soldier, on a considerably reduced footing, and by no means so influential as in days of yore! Working at his chambers in the Temple, with a busy aspect, and his hair (where he is not bald) made more rebellious than ever by the constant friction of his lawyer’s-wig, I come, in a later time, upon my dear old Traddles. His table is covered with thick piles of papers; and I say, as I look around me: ‘If Sophy were your clerk, now, Traddles, she would have enough to do!’ ‘You may say that, my dear Copperfield! But those were capital days, too, in Holborn Court! Were they not?’ ‘When she told you you would be a judge? But it was not the town talk then!’ ‘At all events,’ says Traddles, ‘if I ever am one—’ ‘Why, you know you will be.’ ‘Well, my dear Copperfield, WHEN I am one, I shall tell the story, as I said I would.’ We walk away, arm in arm. I am going to have a family dinner with Traddles. It is Sophy’s birthday; and, on our road, Traddles discourses to me of the good fortune he has enjoyed. ‘I really have been able, my dear Copperfield, to do all that I had most at heart. There’s the Reverend Horace promoted to that living at four hundred and fifty pounds a year; there are our two boys receiving the very best education, and distinguishing themselves as steady scholars and good fellows; there are three of the girls married very comfortably; there are three more living with us; there are three more keeping house for the Reverend Horace since Mrs. Crewler’s decease; and all of them happy.’ ‘Except—’ I suggest. ‘Except the Beauty,’ says Traddles. ‘Yes. It was very unfortunate that she should marry such a vagabond. But there was a certain dash and glare about him that caught her. However, now we have got her safe at our house, and got rid of him, we must cheer her up again.’ Traddles’s house is one of the very houses—or it easily may have been—which he and Sophy used to parcel out, in their evening walks. It is a large house; but Traddles keeps his papers in his dressing-room and his boots with his papers; and he and Sophy squeeze themselves into upper rooms, reserving the best bedrooms for the Beauty and the girls. There is no room to spare in the house; for more of ‘the girls’ are here, and always are here, by some accident or other, than I know how to count. Here, when we go in, is a crowd of them, running down to the door, and handing Traddles about to be kissed, until he is out of breath. Here, established in perpetuity, is the poor Beauty, a widow with a little girl; here, at dinner on Sophy’s birthday, are the three married girls with their three husbands, and one of the husband’s brothers, and another husband’s cousin, and another husband’s sister, who appears to me to be engaged to the cousin. Traddles, exactly the same simple, unaffected fellow as he ever was, sits at the foot of the large table like a Patriarch; and Sophy beams upon him, from the head, across a cheerful space that is certainly not glittering with Britannia metal. And now, as I close my task, subduing my desire to linger yet, these faces fade away. But one face, shining on me like a Heavenly light by which I see all other objects, is above them and beyond them all. And that remains. I turn my head, and see it, in its beautiful serenity, beside me. My lamp burns low, and I have written far into the night; but the dear presence, without which I were nothing, bears me company. O Agnes, O my soul, so may thy face be by me when I close my life indeed; so may I, when realities are melting from me, like the shadows which I now dismiss, still find thee near me, pointing upward! 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. Dickens, Charles,2009. David Copperfield. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved April 2022 from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/766/766-h/766-h.htm#link2HCH0064 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 www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

David Copperfield: Chapter 64 - A Last  Retrospect

David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens is part of the HackerNoon Books series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Chapter 63: A Visitor CHAPTER 63. A VISITOR What I have purposed to record is nearly finished; but there is yet an incident conspicuous in my memory, on which it often rests with delight, and without which one thread in the web I have spun would have a ravelled end. I had advanced in fame and fortune, my domestic joy was perfect, I had been married ten happy years. Agnes and I were sitting by the fire, in our house in London, one night in spring, and three of our children were playing in the room, when I was told that a stranger wished to see me. He had been asked if he came on business, and had answered No; he had come for the pleasure of seeing me, and had come a long way. He was an old man, my servant said, and looked like a farmer. As this sounded mysterious to the children, and moreover was like the beginning of a favourite story Agnes used to tell them, introductory to the arrival of a wicked old Fairy in a cloak who hated everybody, it produced some commotion. One of our boys laid his head in his mother’s lap to be out of harm’s way, and little Agnes (our eldest child) left her doll in a chair to represent her, and thrust out her little heap of golden curls from between the window-curtains, to see what happened next. ‘Let him come in here!’ said I. There soon appeared, pausing in the dark doorway as he entered, a hale, grey-haired old man. Little Agnes, attracted by his looks, had run to bring him in, and I had not yet clearly seen his face, when my wife, starting up, cried out to me, in a pleased and agitated voice, that it was Mr. Peggotty! It WAS Mr. Peggotty. An old man now, but in a ruddy, hearty, strong old age. When our first emotion was over, and he sat before the fire with the children on his knees, and the blaze shining on his face, he looked, to me, as vigorous and robust, withal as handsome, an old man, as ever I had seen. ‘Mas’r Davy,’ said he. And the old name in the old tone fell so naturally on my ear! ‘Mas’r Davy, ‘tis a joyful hour as I see you, once more, ‘long with your own trew wife!’ ‘A joyful hour indeed, old friend!’ cried I. ‘And these heer pretty ones,’ said Mr. Peggotty. ‘To look at these heer flowers! Why, Mas’r Davy, you was but the heighth of the littlest of these, when I first see you! When Em’ly warn’t no bigger, and our poor lad were BUT a lad!’ ‘Time has changed me more than it has changed you since then,’ said I. ‘But let these dear rogues go to bed; and as no house in England but this must hold you, tell me where to send for your luggage (is the old black bag among it, that went so far, I wonder!), and then, over a glass of Yarmouth grog, we will have the tidings of ten years!’ ‘Are you alone?’ asked Agnes. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, kissing her hand, ‘quite alone.’ We sat him between us, not knowing how to give him welcome enough; and as I began to listen to his old familiar voice, I could have fancied he was still pursuing his long journey in search of his darling niece. ‘It’s a mort of water,’ said Mr. Peggotty, ‘fur to come across, and on’y stay a matter of fower weeks. But water (‘specially when ‘tis salt) comes nat’ral to me; and friends is dear, and I am heer. —Which is verse,’ said Mr. Peggotty, surprised to find it out, ‘though I hadn’t such intentions.’ ‘Are you going back those many thousand miles, so soon?’ asked Agnes. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he returned. ‘I giv the promise to Em’ly, afore I come away. You see, I doen’t grow younger as the years comes round, and if I hadn’t sailed as ‘twas, most like I shouldn’t never have done ‘t. And it’s allus been on my mind, as I must come and see Mas’r Davy and your own sweet blooming self, in your wedded happiness, afore I got to be too old.’ He looked at us, as if he could never feast his eyes on us sufficiently. Agnes laughingly put back some scattered locks of his grey hair, that he might see us better. ‘And now tell us,’ said I, ‘everything relating to your fortunes.’ ‘Our fortuns, Mas’r Davy,’ he rejoined, ‘is soon told. We haven’t fared nohows, but fared to thrive. We’ve allus thrived. We’ve worked as we ought to ‘t, and maybe we lived a leetle hard at first or so, but we have allus thrived. What with sheep-farming, and what with stock-farming, and what with one thing and what with t’other, we are as well to do, as well could be. Theer’s been kiender a blessing fell upon us,’ said Mr. Peggotty, reverentially inclining his head, ‘and we’ve done nowt but prosper. That is, in the long run. If not yesterday, why then today. If not today, why then tomorrow.’ ‘And Emily?’ said Agnes and I, both together. ‘Em’ly,’ said he, ‘arter you left her, ma’am—and I never heerd her saying of her prayers at night, t’other side the canvas screen, when we was settled in the Bush, but what I heerd your name—and arter she and me lost sight of Mas’r Davy, that theer shining sundown—was that low, at first, that, if she had know’d then what Mas’r Davy kep from us so kind and thowtful, ‘tis my opinion she’d have drooped away. But theer was some poor folks aboard as had illness among ‘em, and she took care of them; and theer was the children in our company, and she took care of them; and so she got to be busy, and to be doing good, and that helped her.’ ‘When did she first hear of it?’ I asked. ‘I kep it from her arter I heerd on ‘t,’ said Mr. Peggotty, ‘going on nigh a year. We was living then in a solitary place, but among the beautifullest trees, and with the roses a-covering our Beein to the roof. Theer come along one day, when I was out a-working on the land, a traveller from our own Norfolk or Suffolk in England (I doen’t rightly mind which), and of course we took him in, and giv him to eat and drink, and made him welcome. We all do that, all the colony over. He’d got an old newspaper with him, and some other account in print of the storm. That’s how she know’d it. When I came home at night, I found she know’d it.’ He dropped his voice as he said these words, and the gravity I so well remembered overspread his face. ‘Did it change her much?’ we asked. ‘Aye, for a good long time,’ he said, shaking his head; ‘if not to this present hour. But I think the solitoode done her good. And she had a deal to mind in the way of poultry and the like, and minded of it, and come through. I wonder,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘if you could see my Em’ly now, Mas’r Davy, whether you’d know her!’ ‘Is she so altered?’ I inquired. ‘I doen’t know. I see her ev’ry day, and doen’t know; But, odd-times, I have thowt so. A slight figure,’ said Mr. Peggotty, looking at the fire, ‘kiender worn; soft, sorrowful, blue eyes; a delicate face; a pritty head, leaning a little down; a quiet voice and way—timid a’most. That’s Em’ly!’ We silently observed him as he sat, still looking at the fire. ‘Some thinks,’ he said, ‘as her affection was ill-bestowed; some, as her marriage was broken off by death. No one knows how ‘tis. She might have married well, a mort of times, “but, uncle,” she says to me, “that’s gone for ever.” Cheerful along with me; retired when others is by; fond of going any distance fur to teach a child, or fur to tend a sick person, or fur to do some kindness tow’rds a young girl’s wedding (and she’s done a many, but has never seen one); fondly loving of her uncle; patient; liked by young and old; sowt out by all that has any trouble. That’s Em’ly!’ He drew his hand across his face, and with a half-suppressed sigh looked up from the fire. ‘Is Martha with you yet?’ I asked. ‘Martha,’ he replied, ‘got married, Mas’r Davy, in the second year. A young man, a farm-labourer, as come by us on his way to market with his mas’r’s drays—a journey of over five hundred mile, theer and back—made offers fur to take her fur his wife (wives is very scarce theer), and then to set up fur their two selves in the Bush. She spoke to me fur to tell him her trew story. I did. They was married, and they live fower hundred mile away from any voices but their own and the singing birds.’ ‘Mrs. Gummidge?’ I suggested. It was a pleasant key to touch, for Mr. Peggotty suddenly burst into a roar of laughter, and rubbed his hands up and down his legs, as he had been accustomed to do when he enjoyed himself in the long-shipwrecked boat. ‘Would you believe it!’ he said. ‘Why, someun even made offer fur to marry her! If a ship’s cook that was turning settler, Mas’r Davy, didn’t make offers fur to marry Missis Gummidge, I’m Gormed—and I can’t say no fairer than that!’ I never saw Agnes laugh so. This sudden ecstasy on the part of Mr. Peggotty was so delightful to her, that she could not leave off laughing; and the more she laughed the more she made me laugh, and the greater Mr. Peggotty’s ecstasy became, and the more he rubbed his legs. ‘And what did Mrs. Gummidge say?’ I asked, when I was grave enough. ‘If you’ll believe me,’ returned Mr. Peggotty, ‘Missis Gummidge, ‘stead of saying “thank you, I’m much obleeged to you, I ain’t a-going fur to change my condition at my time of life,” up’d with a bucket as was standing by, and laid it over that theer ship’s cook’s head ‘till he sung out fur help, and I went in and reskied of him.’ Mr. Peggotty burst into a great roar of laughter, and Agnes and I both kept him company. ‘But I must say this, for the good creetur,’ he resumed, wiping his face, when we were quite exhausted; ‘she has been all she said she’d be to us, and more. She’s the willingest, the trewest, the honestest-helping woman, Mas’r Davy, as ever draw’d the breath of life. I have never know’d her to be lone and lorn, for a single minute, not even when the colony was all afore us, and we was new to it. And thinking of the old ‘un is a thing she never done, I do assure you, since she left England!’ ‘Now, last, not least, Mr. Micawber,’ said I. ‘He has paid off every obligation he incurred here—even to Traddles’s bill, you remember my dear Agnes—and therefore we may take it for granted that he is doing well. But what is the latest news of him?’ Mr. Peggotty, with a smile, put his hand in his breast-pocket, and produced a flat-folded, paper parcel, from which he took out, with much care, a little odd-looking newspaper. ‘You are to understan’, Mas’r Davy,’ said he, ‘as we have left the Bush now, being so well to do; and have gone right away round to Port Middlebay Harbour, wheer theer’s what we call a town.’ ‘Mr. Micawber was in the Bush near you?’ said I. ‘Bless you, yes,’ said Mr. Peggotty, ‘and turned to with a will. I never wish to meet a better gen’l’man for turning to with a will. I’ve seen that theer bald head of his a perspiring in the sun, Mas’r Davy, till I a’most thowt it would have melted away. And now he’s a Magistrate.’ ‘A Magistrate, eh?’ said I. Mr. Peggotty pointed to a certain paragraph in the newspaper, where I read aloud as follows, from the Port Middlebay Times: ‘The public dinner to our distinguished fellow-colonist and townsman, WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE, Port Middlebay District Magistrate, came off yesterday in the large room of the Hotel, which was crowded to suffocation. It is estimated that not fewer than forty-seven persons must have been accommodated with dinner at one time, exclusive of the company in the passage and on the stairs. The beauty, fashion, and exclusiveness of Port Middlebay, flocked to do honour to one so deservedly esteemed, so highly talented, and so widely popular. Doctor Mell (of Colonial Salem-House Grammar School, Port Middlebay) presided, and on his right sat the distinguished guest. After the removal of the cloth, and the singing of Non Nobis (beautifully executed, and in which we were at no loss to distinguish the bell-like notes of that gifted amateur, WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE, JUNIOR), the usual loyal and patriotic toasts were severally given and rapturously received. Doctor Mell, in a speech replete with feeling, then proposed “Our distinguished Guest, the ornament of our town. May he never leave us but to better himself, and may his success among us be such as to render his bettering himself impossible!” The cheering with which the toast was received defies description. Again and again it rose and fell, like the waves of ocean. At length all was hushed, and WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE, presented himself to return thanks. Far be it from us, in the present comparatively imperfect state of the resources of our establishment, to endeavour to follow our distinguished townsman through the smoothly-flowing periods of his polished and highly-ornate address! Suffice it to observe, that it was a masterpiece of eloquence; and that those passages in which he more particularly traced his own successful career to its source, and warned the younger portion of his auditory from the shoals of ever incurring pecuniary liabilities which they were unable to liquidate, brought a tear into the manliest eye present. The remaining toasts were DOCTOR MELL; Mrs. MICAWBER (who gracefully bowed her acknowledgements from the side-door, where a galaxy of beauty was elevated on chairs, at once to witness and adorn the gratifying scene), Mrs. RIDGER BEGS (late Miss Micawber); Mrs. MELL; WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE, JUNIOR (who convulsed the assembly by humorously remarking that he found himself unable to return thanks in a speech, but would do so, with their permission, in a song); Mrs. MICAWBER’S FAMILY (well known, it is needless to remark, in the mother-country), &c. &c. &c. At the conclusion of the proceedings the tables were cleared as if by art-magic for dancing. Among the votaries of TERPSICHORE, who disported themselves until Sol gave warning for departure, Wilkins Micawber, Esquire, Junior, and the lovely and accomplished Miss Helena, fourth daughter of Doctor Mell, were particularly remarkable.’ I was looking back to the name of Doctor Mell, pleased to have discovered, in these happier circumstances, Mr. Mell, formerly poor pinched usher to my Middlesex magistrate, when Mr. Peggotty pointing to another part of the paper, my eyes rested on my own name, and I read thus: ‘TO DAVID COPPERFIELD, ESQUIRE, ‘THE EMINENT AUTHOR. ‘My Dear Sir, ‘Years have elapsed, since I had an opportunity of ocularly perusing the lineaments, now familiar to the imaginations of a considerable portion of the civilized world. ‘But, my dear Sir, though estranged (by the force of circumstances over which I have had no control) from the personal society of the friend and companion of my youth, I have not been unmindful of his soaring flight. Nor have I been debarred, (BURNS) from participating in the intellectual feasts he has spread before us. ‘I cannot, therefore, allow of the departure from this place of an individual whom we mutually respect and esteem, without, my dear Sir, taking this public opportunity of thanking you, on my own behalf, and, I may undertake to add, on that of the whole of the Inhabitants of Port Middlebay, for the gratification of which you are the ministering agent. ‘Go on, my dear Sir! You are not unknown here, you are not unappreciated. Though “remote”, we are neither “unfriended”, “melancholy”, nor (I may add) “slow”. Go on, my dear Sir, in your Eagle course! The inhabitants of Port Middlebay may at least aspire to watch it, with delight, with entertainment, with instruction! ‘Among the eyes elevated towards you from this portion of the globe, will ever be found, while it has light and life, I found, on glancing at the remaining contents of the newspaper, that Mr. Micawber was a diligent and esteemed correspondent of that journal. There was another letter from him in the same paper, touching a bridge; there was an advertisement of a collection of similar letters by him, to be shortly republished, in a neat volume, ‘with considerable additions’; and, unless I am very much mistaken, the Leading Article was his also. We talked much of Mr. Micawber, on many other evenings while Mr. Peggotty remained with us. He lived with us during the whole term of his stay,—which, I think, was something less than a month,—and his sister and my aunt came to London to see him. Agnes and I parted from him aboard-ship, when he sailed; and we shall never part from him more, on earth. But before he left, he went with me to Yarmouth, to see a little tablet I had put up in the churchyard to the memory of Ham. While I was copying the plain inscription for him at his request, I saw him stoop, and gather a tuft of grass from the grave and a little earth. ‘For Em’ly,’ he said, as he put it in his breast. ‘I promised, Mas’r Davy.’ 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. Dickens, Charles,2009. David Copperfield. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved April 2022 from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/766/766-h/766-h.htm#link2HCH0063 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 www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

David Copperfield: Chapter 63 - A Visitor

David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens is part of the HackerNoon Books series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Chapter 62: A Light Shines On My Way CHAPTER 62. A LIGHT SHINES ON MY WAY The year came round to Christmas-time, and I had been at home above two months. I had seen Agnes frequently. However loud the general voice might be in giving me encouragement, and however fervent the emotions and endeavours to which it roused me, I heard her lightest word of praise as I heard nothing else. At least once a week, and sometimes oftener, I rode over there, and passed the evening. I usually rode back at night; for the old unhappy sense was always hovering about me now—most sorrowfully when I left her—and I was glad to be up and out, rather than wandering over the past in weary wakefulness or miserable dreams. I wore away the longest part of many wild sad nights, in those rides; reviving, as I went, the thoughts that had occupied me in my long absence. Or, if I were to say rather that I listened to the echoes of those thoughts, I should better express the truth. They spoke to me from afar off. I had put them at a distance, and accepted my inevitable place. When I read to Agnes what I wrote; when I saw her listening face; moved her to smiles or tears; and heard her cordial voice so earnest on the shadowy events of that imaginative world in which I lived; I thought what a fate mine might have been—but only thought so, as I had thought after I was married to Dora, what I could have wished my wife to be. My duty to Agnes, who loved me with a love, which, if I disquieted, I wronged most selfishly and poorly, and could never restore; my matured assurance that I, who had worked out my own destiny, and won what I had impetuously set my heart on, had no right to murmur, and must bear; comprised what I felt and what I had learned. But I loved her: and now it even became some consolation to me, vaguely to conceive a distant day when I might blamelessly avow it; when all this should be over; when I could say ‘Agnes, so it was when I came home; and now I am old, and I never have loved since!’ She did not once show me any change in herself. What she always had been to me, she still was; wholly unaltered. Between my aunt and me there had been something, in this connexion, since the night of my return, which I cannot call a restraint, or an avoidance of the subject, so much as an implied understanding that we thought of it together, but did not shape our thoughts into words. When, according to our old custom, we sat before the fire at night, we often fell into this train; as naturally, and as consciously to each other, as if we had unreservedly said so. But we preserved an unbroken silence. I believed that she had read, or partly read, my thoughts that night; and that she fully comprehended why I gave mine no more distinct expression. This Christmas-time being come, and Agnes having reposed no new confidence in me, a doubt that had several times arisen in my mind—whether she could have that perception of the true state of my breast, which restrained her with the apprehension of giving me pain—began to oppress me heavily. If that were so, my sacrifice was nothing; my plainest obligation to her unfulfilled; and every poor action I had shrunk from, I was hourly doing. I resolved to set this right beyond all doubt;—if such a barrier were between us, to break it down at once with a determined hand. It was—what lasting reason have I to remember it!—a cold, harsh, winter day. There had been snow, some hours before; and it lay, not deep, but hard-frozen on the ground. Out at sea, beyond my window, the wind blew ruggedly from the north. I had been thinking of it, sweeping over those mountain wastes of snow in Switzerland, then inaccessible to any human foot; and had been speculating which was the lonelier, those solitary regions, or a deserted ocean. ‘Riding today, Trot?’ said my aunt, putting her head in at the door. ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘I am going over to Canterbury. It’s a good day for a ride.’ ‘I hope your horse may think so too,’ said my aunt; ‘but at present he is holding down his head and his ears, standing before the door there, as if he thought his stable preferable.’ My aunt, I may observe, allowed my horse on the forbidden ground, but had not at all relented towards the donkeys. ‘He will be fresh enough, presently!’ said I. ‘The ride will do his master good, at all events,’ observed my aunt, glancing at the papers on my table. ‘Ah, child, you pass a good many hours here! I never thought, when I used to read books, what work it was to write them.’ ‘It’s work enough to read them, sometimes,’ I returned. ‘As to the writing, it has its own charms, aunt.’ ‘Ah! I see!’ said my aunt. ‘Ambition, love of approbation, sympathy, and much more, I suppose? Well: go along with you!’ ‘Do you know anything more,’ said I, standing composedly before her—she had patted me on the shoulder, and sat down in my chair—‘of that attachment of Agnes?’ She looked up in my face a little while, before replying: ‘I think I do, Trot.’ ‘Are you confirmed in your impression?’ I inquired. ‘I think I am, Trot.’ She looked so steadfastly at me: with a kind of doubt, or pity, or suspense in her affection: that I summoned the stronger determination to show her a perfectly cheerful face. ‘And what is more, Trot—’ said my aunt. ‘Yes!’ ‘I think Agnes is going to be married.’ ‘God bless her!’ said I, cheerfully. ‘God bless her!’ said my aunt, ‘and her husband too!’ I echoed it, parted from my aunt, and went lightly downstairs, mounted, and rode away. There was greater reason than before to do what I had resolved to do. How well I recollect the wintry ride! The frozen particles of ice, brushed from the blades of grass by the wind, and borne across my face; the hard clatter of the horse’s hoofs, beating a tune upon the ground; the stiff-tilled soil; the snowdrift, lightly eddying in the chalk-pit as the breeze ruffled it; the smoking team with the waggon of old hay, stopping to breathe on the hill-top, and shaking their bells musically; the whitened slopes and sweeps of Down-land lying against the dark sky, as if they were drawn on a huge slate! I found Agnes alone. The little girls had gone to their own homes now, and she was alone by the fire, reading. She put down her book on seeing me come in; and having welcomed me as usual, took her work-basket and sat in one of the old-fashioned windows. I sat beside her on the window-seat, and we talked of what I was doing, and when it would be done, and of the progress I had made since my last visit. Agnes was very cheerful; and laughingly predicted that I should soon become too famous to be talked to, on such subjects. ‘So I make the most of the present time, you see,’ said Agnes, ‘and talk to you while I may.’ As I looked at her beautiful face, observant of her work, she raised her mild clear eyes, and saw that I was looking at her. ‘You are thoughtful today, Trotwood!’ ‘Agnes, shall I tell you what about? I came to tell you.’ She put aside her work, as she was used to do when we were seriously discussing anything; and gave me her whole attention. ‘My dear Agnes, do you doubt my being true to you?’ ‘No!’ she answered, with a look of astonishment. ‘Do you doubt my being what I always have been to you?’ ‘No!’ she answered, as before. ‘Do you remember that I tried to tell you, when I came home, what a debt of gratitude I owed you, dearest Agnes, and how fervently I felt towards you?’ ‘I remember it,’ she said, gently, ‘very well.’ ‘You have a secret,’ said I. ‘Let me share it, Agnes.’ She cast down her eyes, and trembled. ‘I could hardly fail to know, even if I had not heard—but from other lips than yours, Agnes, which seems strange—that there is someone upon whom you have bestowed the treasure of your love. Do not shut me out of what concerns your happiness so nearly! If you can trust me, as you say you can, and as I know you may, let me be your friend, your brother, in this matter, of all others!’ With an appealing, almost a reproachful, glance, she rose from the window; and hurrying across the room as if without knowing where, put her hands before her face, and burst into such tears as smote me to the heart. And yet they awakened something in me, bringing promise to my heart. Without my knowing why, these tears allied themselves with the quietly sad smile which was so fixed in my remembrance, and shook me more with hope than fear or sorrow. ‘Agnes! Sister! Dearest! What have I done?’ ‘Let me go away, Trotwood. I am not well. I am not myself. I will speak to you by and by—another time. I will write to you. Don’t speak to me now. Don’t! don’t!’ I sought to recollect what she had said, when I had spoken to her on that former night, of her affection needing no return. It seemed a very world that I must search through in a moment. ‘Agnes, I cannot bear to see you so, and think that I have been the cause. My dearest girl, dearer to me than anything in life, if you are unhappy, let me share your unhappiness. If you are in need of help or counsel, let me try to give it to you. If you have indeed a burden on your heart, let me try to lighten it. For whom do I live now, Agnes, if it is not for you!’ ‘Oh, spare me! I am not myself! Another time!’ was all I could distinguish. Was it a selfish error that was leading me away? Or, having once a clue to hope, was there something opening to me that I had not dared to think of? ‘I must say more. I cannot let you leave me so! For Heaven’s sake, Agnes, let us not mistake each other after all these years, and all that has come and gone with them! I must speak plainly. If you have any lingering thought that I could envy the happiness you will confer; that I could not resign you to a dearer protector, of your own choosing; that I could not, from my removed place, be a contented witness of your joy; dismiss it, for I don’t deserve it! I have not suffered quite in vain. You have not taught me quite in vain. There is no alloy of self in what I feel for you.’ She was quiet now. In a little time, she turned her pale face towards me, and said in a low voice, broken here and there, but very clear: ‘I owe it to your pure friendship for me, Trotwood—which, indeed, I do not doubt—to tell you, you are mistaken. I can do no more. If I have sometimes, in the course of years, wanted help and counsel, they have come to me. If I have sometimes been unhappy, the feeling has passed away. If I have ever had a burden on my heart, it has been lightened for me. If I have any secret, it is—no new one; and is—not what you suppose. I cannot reveal it, or divide it. It has long been mine, and must remain mine.’ ‘Agnes! Stay! A moment!’ She was going away, but I detained her. I clasped my arm about her waist. ‘In the course of years!’ ‘It is not a new one!’ New thoughts and hopes were whirling through my mind, and all the colours of my life were changing. ‘Dearest Agnes! Whom I so respect and honour—whom I so devotedly love! When I came here today, I thought that nothing could have wrested this confession from me. I thought I could have kept it in my bosom all our lives, till we were old. But, Agnes, if I have indeed any new-born hope that I may ever call you something more than Sister, widely different from Sister!—’ Her tears fell fast; but they were not like those she had lately shed, and I saw my hope brighten in them. ‘Agnes! Ever my guide, and best support! If you had been more mindful of yourself, and less of me, when we grew up here together, I think my heedless fancy never would have wandered from you. But you were so much better than I, so necessary to me in every boyish hope and disappointment, that to have you to confide in, and rely upon in everything, became a second nature, supplanting for the time the first and greater one of loving you as I do!’ Still weeping, but not sadly—joyfully! And clasped in my arms as she had never been, as I had thought she never was to be! ‘When I loved Dora—fondly, Agnes, as you know—’ ‘Yes!’ she cried, earnestly. ‘I am glad to know it!’ ‘When I loved her—even then, my love would have been incomplete, without your sympathy. I had it, and it was perfected. And when I lost her, Agnes, what should I have been without you, still!’ Closer in my arms, nearer to my heart, her trembling hand upon my shoulder, her sweet eyes shining through her tears, on mine! ‘I went away, dear Agnes, loving you. I stayed away, loving you. I returned home, loving you!’ And now, I tried to tell her of the struggle I had had, and the conclusion I had come to. I tried to lay my mind before her, truly, and entirely. I tried to show her how I had hoped I had come into the better knowledge of myself and of her; how I had resigned myself to what that better knowledge brought; and how I had come there, even that day, in my fidelity to this. If she did so love me (I said) that she could take me for her husband, she could do so, on no deserving of mine, except upon the truth of my love for her, and the trouble in which it had ripened to be what it was; and hence it was that I revealed it. And O, Agnes, even out of thy true eyes, in that same time, the spirit of my child-wife looked upon me, saying it was well; and winning me, through thee, to tenderest recollections of the Blossom that had withered in its bloom! ‘I am so blest, Trotwood—my heart is so overcharged—but there is one thing I must say.’ ‘Dearest, what?’ She laid her gentle hands upon my shoulders, and looked calmly in my face. ‘Do you know, yet, what it is?’ ‘I am afraid to speculate on what it is. Tell me, my dear.’ ‘I have loved you all my life!’ O, we were happy, we were happy! Our tears were not for the trials (hers so much the greater) through which we had come to be thus, but for the rapture of being thus, never to be divided more! We walked, that winter evening, in the fields together; and the blessed calm within us seemed to be partaken by the frosty air. The early stars began to shine while we were lingering on, and looking up to them, we thanked our GOD for having guided us to this tranquillity. We stood together in the same old-fashioned window at night, when the moon was shining; Agnes with her quiet eyes raised up to it; I following her glance. Long miles of road then opened out before my mind; and, toiling on, I saw a ragged way-worn boy, forsaken and neglected, who should come to call even the heart now beating against mine, his own. It was nearly dinner-time next day when we appeared before my aunt. She was up in my study, Peggotty said: which it was her pride to keep in readiness and order for me. We found her, in her spectacles, sitting by the fire. ‘Goodness me!’ said my aunt, peering through the dusk, ‘who’s this you’re bringing home?’ ‘Agnes,’ said I. As we had arranged to say nothing at first, my aunt was not a little discomfited. She darted a hopeful glance at me, when I said ‘Agnes’; but seeing that I looked as usual, she took off her spectacles in despair, and rubbed her nose with them. She greeted Agnes heartily, nevertheless; and we were soon in the lighted parlour downstairs, at dinner. My aunt put on her spectacles twice or thrice, to take another look at me, but as often took them off again, disappointed, and rubbed her nose with them. Much to the discomfiture of Mr. Dick, who knew this to be a bad symptom. ‘By the by, aunt,’ said I, after dinner; ‘I have been speaking to Agnes about what you told me.’ ‘Then, Trot,’ said my aunt, turning scarlet, ‘you did wrong, and broke your promise.’ ‘You are not angry, aunt, I trust? I am sure you won’t be, when you learn that Agnes is not unhappy in any attachment.’ ‘Stuff and nonsense!’ said my aunt. As my aunt appeared to be annoyed, I thought the best way was to cut her annoyance short. I took Agnes in my arm to the back of her chair, and we both leaned over her. My aunt, with one clap of her hands, and one look through her spectacles, immediately went into hysterics, for the first and only time in all my knowledge of her. The hysterics called up Peggotty. The moment my aunt was restored, she flew at Peggotty, and calling her a silly old creature, hugged her with all her might. After that, she hugged Mr. Dick (who was highly honoured, but a good deal surprised); and after that, told them why. Then, we were all happy together. I could not discover whether my aunt, in her last short conversation with me, had fallen on a pious fraud, or had really mistaken the state of my mind. It was quite enough, she said, that she had told me Agnes was going to be married; and that I now knew better than anyone how true it was. We were married within a fortnight. Traddles and Sophy, and Doctor and Mrs. Strong, were the only guests at our quiet wedding. We left them full of joy; and drove away together. Clasped in my embrace, I held the source of every worthy aspiration I had ever had; the centre of myself, the circle of my life, my own, my wife; my love of whom was founded on a rock! ‘Dearest husband!’ said Agnes. ‘Now that I may call you by that name, I have one thing more to tell you.’ ‘Let me hear it, love.’ ‘It grows out of the night when Dora died. She sent you for me.’ ‘She did.’ ‘She told me that she left me something. Can you think what it was?’ I believed I could. I drew the wife who had so long loved me, closer to my side. ‘She told me that she made a last request to me, and left me a last charge.’ ‘And it was—’ ‘That only I would occupy this vacant place.’ And Agnes laid her head upon my breast, and wept; and I wept with her, though we were so happy. 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. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved April 2022 from Dickens, Charles,2009. David Copperfield. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/766/766-h/766-h.htm#link2HCH0062 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

David Copperfield: Chapter 62 - A Light Shines On My Way

David Copperfield: Chapter 61 - I am Shown Two Interesting Penitents

David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens is part of the HackerNoon Books series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Chapter 60: Agnes CHAPTER 60. AGNES My aunt and I, when we were left alone, talked far into the night. How the emigrants never wrote home, otherwise than cheerfully and hopefully; how Mr. Micawber had actually remitted divers small sums of money, on account of those ‘pecuniary liabilities’, in reference to which he had been so business-like as between man and man; how Janet, returning into my aunt’s service when she came back to Dover, had finally carried out her renunciation of mankind by entering into wedlock with a thriving tavern-keeper; and how my aunt had finally set her seal on the same great principle, by aiding and abetting the bride, and crowning the marriage-ceremony with her presence; were among our topics—already more or less familiar to me through the letters I had had. Mr. Dick, as usual, was not forgotten. My aunt informed me how he incessantly occupied himself in copying everything he could lay his hands on, and kept King Charles the First at a respectful distance by that semblance of employment; how it was one of the main joys and rewards of her life that he was free and happy, instead of pining in monotonous restraint; and how (as a novel general conclusion) nobody but she could ever fully know what he was. ‘And when, Trot,’ said my aunt, patting the back of my hand, as we sat in our old way before the fire, ‘when are you going over to Canterbury?’ ‘I shall get a horse, and ride over tomorrow morning, aunt, unless you will go with me?’ ‘No!’ said my aunt, in her short abrupt way. ‘I mean to stay where I am.’ Then, I should ride, I said. I could not have come through Canterbury today without stopping, if I had been coming to anyone but her. She was pleased, but answered, ‘Tut, Trot; MY old bones would have kept till tomorrow!’ and softly patted my hand again, as I sat looking thoughtfully at the fire. Thoughtfully, for I could not be here once more, and so near Agnes, without the revival of those regrets with which I had so long been occupied. Softened regrets they might be, teaching me what I had failed to learn when my younger life was all before me, but not the less regrets. ‘Oh, Trot,’ I seemed to hear my aunt say once more; and I understood her better now—‘Blind, blind, blind!’ We both kept silence for some minutes. When I raised my eyes, I found that she was steadily observant of me. Perhaps she had followed the current of my mind; for it seemed to me an easy one to track now, wilful as it had been once. ‘You will find her father a white-haired old man,’ said my aunt, ‘though a better man in all other respects—a reclaimed man. Neither will you find him measuring all human interests, and joys, and sorrows, with his one poor little inch-rule now. Trust me, child, such things must shrink very much, before they can be measured off in that way.’ ‘Indeed they must,’ said I. ‘You will find her,’ pursued my aunt, ‘as good, as beautiful, as earnest, as disinterested, as she has always been. If I knew higher praise, Trot, I would bestow it on her.’ There was no higher praise for her; no higher reproach for me. Oh, how had I strayed so far away! ‘If she trains the young girls whom she has about her, to be like herself,’ said my aunt, earnest even to the filling of her eyes with tears, ‘Heaven knows, her life will be well employed! Useful and happy, as she said that day! How could she be otherwise than useful and happy!’ ‘Has Agnes any—’ I was thinking aloud, rather than speaking. ‘Well? Hey? Any what?’ said my aunt, sharply. ‘Any lover,’ said I. ‘A score,’ cried my aunt, with a kind of indignant pride. ‘She might have married twenty times, my dear, since you have been gone!’ ‘No doubt,’ said I. ‘No doubt. But has she any lover who is worthy of her? Agnes could care for no other.’ My aunt sat musing for a little while, with her chin upon her hand. Slowly raising her eyes to mine, she said: ‘I suspect she has an attachment, Trot.’ ‘A prosperous one?’ said I. ‘Trot,’ returned my aunt gravely, ‘I can’t say. I have no right to tell you even so much. She has never confided it to me, but I suspect it.’ She looked so attentively and anxiously at me (I even saw her tremble), that I felt now, more than ever, that she had followed my late thoughts. I summoned all the resolutions I had made, in all those many days and nights, and all those many conflicts of my heart. ‘If it should be so,’ I began, ‘and I hope it is-’ ‘I don’t know that it is,’ said my aunt curtly. ‘You must not be ruled by my suspicions. You must keep them secret. They are very slight, perhaps. I have no right to speak.’ ‘If it should be so,’ I repeated, ‘Agnes will tell me at her own good time. A sister to whom I have confided so much, aunt, will not be reluctant to confide in me.’ My aunt withdrew her eyes from mine, as slowly as she had turned them upon me; and covered them thoughtfully with her hand. By and by she put her other hand on my shoulder; and so we both sat, looking into the past, without saying another word, until we parted for the night. I rode away, early in the morning, for the scene of my old school-days. I cannot say that I was yet quite happy, in the hope that I was gaining a victory over myself; even in the prospect of so soon looking on her face again. The well-remembered ground was soon traversed, and I came into the quiet streets, where every stone was a boy’s book to me. I went on foot to the old house, and went away with a heart too full to enter. I returned; and looking, as I passed, through the low window of the turret-room where first Uriah Heep, and afterwards Mr. Micawber, had been wont to sit, saw that it was a little parlour now, and that there was no office. Otherwise the staid old house was, as to its cleanliness and order, still just as it had been when I first saw it. I requested the new maid who admitted me, to tell Miss Wickfield that a gentleman who waited on her from a friend abroad, was there; and I was shown up the grave old staircase (cautioned of the steps I knew so well), into the unchanged drawing-room. The books that Agnes and I had read together, were on their shelves; and the desk where I had laboured at my lessons, many a night, stood yet at the same old corner of the table. All the little changes that had crept in when the Heeps were there, were changed again. Everything was as it used to be, in the happy time. I stood in a window, and looked across the ancient street at the opposite houses, recalling how I had watched them on wet afternoons, when I first came there; and how I had used to speculate about the people who appeared at any of the windows, and had followed them with my eyes up and down stairs, while women went clicking along the pavement in pattens, and the dull rain fell in slanting lines, and poured out of the water-spout yonder, and flowed into the road. The feeling with which I used to watch the tramps, as they came into the town on those wet evenings, at dusk, and limped past, with their bundles drooping over their shoulders at the ends of sticks, came freshly back to me; fraught, as then, with the smell of damp earth, and wet leaves and briar, and the sensation of the very airs that blew upon me in my own toilsome journey. The opening of the little door in the panelled wall made me start and turn. Her beautiful serene eyes met mine as she came towards me. She stopped and laid her hand upon her bosom, and I caught her in my arms. ‘Agnes! my dear girl! I have come too suddenly upon you.’ ‘No, no! I am so rejoiced to see you, Trotwood!’ ‘Dear Agnes, the happiness it is to me, to see you once again!’ I folded her to my heart, and, for a little while, we were both silent. Presently we sat down, side by side; and her angel-face was turned upon me with the welcome I had dreamed of, waking and sleeping, for whole years. She was so true, she was so beautiful, she was so good,—I owed her so much gratitude, she was so dear to me, that I could find no utterance for what I felt. I tried to bless her, tried to thank her, tried to tell her (as I had often done in letters) what an influence she had upon me; but all my efforts were in vain. My love and joy were dumb. With her own sweet tranquillity, she calmed my agitation; led me back to the time of our parting; spoke to me of Emily, whom she had visited, in secret, many times; spoke to me tenderly of Dora’s grave. With the unerring instinct of her noble heart, she touched the chords of my memory so softly and harmoniously, that not one jarred within me; I could listen to the sorrowful, distant music, and desire to shrink from nothing it awoke. How could I, when, blended with it all, was her dear self, the better angel of my life? ‘And you, Agnes,’ I said, by and by. ‘Tell me of yourself. You have hardly ever told me of your own life, in all this lapse of time!’ ‘What should I tell?’ she answered, with her radiant smile. ‘Papa is well. You see us here, quiet in our own home; our anxieties set at rest, our home restored to us; and knowing that, dear Trotwood, you know all.’ ‘All, Agnes?’ said I. She looked at me, with some fluttering wonder in her face. ‘Is there nothing else, Sister?’ I said. Her colour, which had just now faded, returned, and faded again. She smiled; with a quiet sadness, I thought; and shook her head. I had sought to lead her to what my aunt had hinted at; for, sharply painful to me as it must be to receive that confidence, I was to discipline my heart, and do my duty to her. I saw, however, that she was uneasy, and I let it pass. ‘You have much to do, dear Agnes?’ ‘With my school?’ said she, looking up again, in all her bright composure. ‘Yes. It is laborious, is it not?’ ‘The labour is so pleasant,’ she returned, ‘that it is scarcely grateful in me to call it by that name.’ ‘Nothing good is difficult to you,’ said I. Her colour came and went once more; and once more, as she bent her head, I saw the same sad smile. ‘You will wait and see papa,’ said Agnes, cheerfully, ‘and pass the day with us? Perhaps you will sleep in your own room? We always call it yours.’ I could not do that, having promised to ride back to my aunt’s at night; but I would pass the day there, joyfully. ‘I must be a prisoner for a little while,’ said Agnes, ‘but here are the old books, Trotwood, and the old music.’ ‘Even the old flowers are here,’ said I, looking round; ‘or the old kinds.’ ‘I have found a pleasure,’ returned Agnes, smiling, ‘while you have been absent, in keeping everything as it used to be when we were children. For we were very happy then, I think.’ ‘Heaven knows we were!’ said I. ‘And every little thing that has reminded me of my brother,’ said Agnes, with her cordial eyes turned cheerfully upon me, ‘has been a welcome companion. Even this,’ showing me the basket-trifle, full of keys, still hanging at her side, ‘seems to jingle a kind of old tune!’ She smiled again, and went out at the door by which she had come. It was for me to guard this sisterly affection with religious care. It was all that I had left myself, and it was a treasure. If I once shook the foundations of the sacred confidence and usage, in virtue of which it was given to me, it was lost, and could never be recovered. I set this steadily before myself. The better I loved her, the more it behoved me never to forget it. I walked through the streets; and, once more seeing my old adversary the butcher—now a constable, with his staff hanging up in the shop—went down to look at the place where I had fought him; and there meditated on Miss Shepherd and the eldest Miss Larkins, and all the idle loves and likings, and dislikings, of that time. Nothing seemed to have survived that time but Agnes; and she, ever a star above me, was brighter and higher. When I returned, Mr. Wickfield had come home, from a garden he had, a couple of miles or so out of town, where he now employed himself almost every day. I found him as my aunt had described him. We sat down to dinner, with some half-dozen little girls; and he seemed but the shadow of his handsome picture on the wall. The tranquillity and peace belonging, of old, to that quiet ground in my memory, pervaded it again. When dinner was done, Mr. Wickfield taking no wine, and I desiring none, we went up-stairs; where Agnes and her little charges sang and played, and worked. After tea the children left us; and we three sat together, talking of the bygone days. ‘My part in them,’ said Mr. Wickfield, shaking his white head, ‘has much matter for regret—for deep regret, and deep contrition, Trotwood, you well know. But I would not cancel it, if it were in my power.’ I could readily believe that, looking at the face beside him. ‘I should cancel with it,’ he pursued, ‘such patience and devotion, such fidelity, such a child’s love, as I must not forget, no! even to forget myself.’ ‘I understand you, sir,’ I softly said. ‘I hold it—I have always held it—in veneration.’ ‘But no one knows, not even you,’ he returned, ‘how much she has done, how much she has undergone, how hard she has striven. Dear Agnes!’ She had put her hand entreatingly on his arm, to stop him; and was very, very pale. ‘Well, well!’ he said with a sigh, dismissing, as I then saw, some trial she had borne, or was yet to bear, in connexion with what my aunt had told me. ‘Well! I have never told you, Trotwood, of her mother. Has anyone?’ ‘Never, sir.’ ‘It’s not much—though it was much to suffer. She married me in opposition to her father’s wish, and he renounced her. She prayed him to forgive her, before my Agnes came into this world. He was a very hard man, and her mother had long been dead. He repulsed her. He broke her heart.’ Agnes leaned upon his shoulder, and stole her arm about his neck. ‘She had an affectionate and gentle heart,’ he said; ‘and it was broken. I knew its tender nature very well. No one could, if I did not. She loved me dearly, but was never happy. She was always labouring, in secret, under this distress; and being delicate and downcast at the time of his last repulse—for it was not the first, by many—pined away and died. She left me Agnes, two weeks old; and the grey hair that you recollect me with, when you first came.’ He kissed Agnes on her cheek. ‘My love for my dear child was a diseased love, but my mind was all unhealthy then. I say no more of that. I am not speaking of myself, Trotwood, but of her mother, and of her. If I give you any clue to what I am, or to what I have been, you will unravel it, I know. What Agnes is, I need not say. I have always read something of her poor mother’s story, in her character; and so I tell it you tonight, when we three are again together, after such great changes. I have told it all.’ His bowed head, and her angel-face and filial duty, derived a more pathetic meaning from it than they had had before. If I had wanted anything by which to mark this night of our re-union, I should have found it in this. Agnes rose up from her father’s side, before long; and going softly to her piano, played some of the old airs to which we had often listened in that place. ‘Have you any intention of going away again?’ Agnes asked me, as I was standing by. ‘What does my sister say to that?’ ‘I hope not.’ ‘Then I have no such intention, Agnes.’ ‘I think you ought not, Trotwood, since you ask me,’ she said, mildly. ‘Your growing reputation and success enlarge your power of doing good; and if I could spare my brother,’ with her eyes upon me, ‘perhaps the time could not.’ ‘What I am, you have made me, Agnes. You should know best.’ ‘I made you, Trotwood?’ ‘Yes! Agnes, my dear girl!’ I said, bending over her. ‘I tried to tell you, when we met today, something that has been in my thoughts since Dora died. You remember, when you came down to me in our little room—pointing upward, Agnes?’ ‘Oh, Trotwood!’ she returned, her eyes filled with tears. ‘So loving, so confiding, and so young! Can I ever forget?’ ‘As you were then, my sister, I have often thought since, you have ever been to me. Ever pointing upward, Agnes; ever leading me to something better; ever directing me to higher things!’ She only shook her head; through her tears I saw the same sad quiet smile. ‘And I am so grateful to you for it, Agnes, so bound to you, that there is no name for the affection of my heart. I want you to know, yet don’t know how to tell you, that all my life long I shall look up to you, and be guided by you, as I have been through the darkness that is past. Whatever betides, whatever new ties you may form, whatever changes may come between us, I shall always look to you, and love you, as I do now, and have always done. You will always be my solace and resource, as you have always been. Until I die, my dearest sister, I shall see you always before me, pointing upward!’ She put her hand in mine, and told me she was proud of me, and of what I said; although I praised her very far beyond her worth. Then she went on softly playing, but without removing her eyes from me. ‘Do you know, what I have heard tonight, Agnes,’ said I, strangely seems to be a part of the feeling with which I regarded you when I saw you first—with which I sat beside you in my rough school-days?’ ‘You knew I had no mother,’ she replied with a smile, ‘and felt kindly towards me.’ ‘More than that, Agnes, I knew, almost as if I had known this story, that there was something inexplicably gentle and softened, surrounding you; something that might have been sorrowful in someone else (as I can now understand it was), but was not so in you.’ She softly played on, looking at me still. ‘Will you laugh at my cherishing such fancies, Agnes?’ ‘No!’ ‘Or at my saying that I really believe I felt, even then, that you could be faithfully affectionate against all discouragement, and never cease to be so, until you ceased to live?—-Will you laugh at such a dream?’ ‘Oh, no! Oh, no!’ For an instant, a distressful shadow crossed her face; but, even in the start it gave me, it was gone; and she was playing on, and looking at me with her own calm smile. As I rode back in the lonely night, the wind going by me like a restless memory, I thought of this, and feared she was not happy. I was not happy; but, thus far, I had faithfully set the seal upon the Past, and, thinking of her, pointing upward, thought of her as pointing to that sky above me, where, in the mystery to come, I might yet love her with a love unknown on earth, and tell her what the strife had been within me when I loved her here. 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. Dickens, Charles,2009. David Copperfield. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved April 2022 from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/766/766-h/766-h.htm#link2HCH0060 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 www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

Stories, News & Mentions about BOPPER

Bopper’s Stories on HackerNoon