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Discogs is the biggest worldwide music database. Discogs also offers a Marketplace where Buyers and Sellers from all over the world can buy and sell music in all physical formats. Thanks to the accuracy of the database, millions of Internet users use our website to research, buy and sell music, and also to track their music Collection and Wantlist. Discogs is directly supported by a large community of music enthusiasts and collectors.

Discogs

discogs

On May 19, Paul Terzulli, a retired DJ with an enviably rare vinyl collection, made a surprising announcement: He planned to stop selling his records on Discogs. For more than a decade, Terzulli relied on the online marketplace to supplement his income.

The Discontent At Discogs

If you are a devoted vinyl collector, an obsessive music fan, or — as is often the case — both, Discogs is very nearly a lifestyle. The site has become the internet’s foremost database of ...

Discogs’ vibrant vinyl community is shattering

Meet the Winners of Startups in North and Central America

Previously on the DisCo Elements... In the last chapter ( ) we focused on the personal stuff - how and why the recognition of care work is so crucial for change-makers and DisCOs. Care Work First, Code Later: DisCO Philosophy 101 DisCO Futures: Building Tracks What needs to happen for DisCOs to grow and flourish across the economy? This is the purpose of the : to provide educational tools and experimental spaces for the ongoing, transnational development of DisCO. It’s an undertaking that needs ongoing support to reach a broad base of potential advocates and participants. DisCO Project DisCOs are designed to be developed from the bottom-up. To create the desired cooperative economic counterpower, they will need to find each other and network through agreements. Supportive legal and policy frameworks would greatly enhance some of the potentials described in this publication. As explicitly political and federated initiatives, DisCOs also act as a training ground for deliberative, inclusive decision-making processes, preparing members for responsible civic action. In this way, DisCOs could act as pilots to prefigure new forms of policy around networked politics. Given DisCO’s transnational orientation, the following recommendations are general and non-domain specific. Individual DisCOs and federated DisCO networks need to actively campaign for legislative change at various levels in applicable jurisdictions. Additionally, the objective is for the State to to empower and protect the creation and upkeep of DisCOs, but not direct the process of federated DisCO development. provide the necessary infrastructure [1] Arguably, the development of DisCOs centered on ecologically and socially-oriented work can directly address urgent crises at their root, radically and large infrastructure management and upkeep. democratizing social and public health provision This lessens the need for costly post-hoc state interventions and brings a more democratic distribution of economic power, alleviating government enforcement of redistributional strategies through taxes or benefits. DisCOs also provide solutions for state actors by providing meaningful employment, narrowing the digital divide, and actively addressing the gendered aspects of work. To support these goals we propose that states and municipalities enable DisCO development through: 1. The provision of special economic incentives for DisCOs, implemented as: a. Tax benefits, including reducing the tax rate dynamically calculated against measurable social and environmental gains, social security bonuses for employing underprivileged or marginalized persons and more. b. State-supported microcredit systems with demurrage based interest rates based on achievement of co-defined social provision goals. These can be delivered through cooperative banks, some of which may practice forms of DisCO accounting. State-supported social and crypto currencies are another possibility. c. Direct financial injection and social investment through renewable, interest-free loans. These can act as seed funding for DisCOs and enable positive credit valuation. d. Public subsidies towards DisCOs as a more democratic and mandate-accountable alternative to traditional NGOs. Worker Self Directed Nonprofits [2] e. The monetary value of employee pro-bono work could be treated as a tax-deductible contribution to the non-profit coop. 2. The development of legal frameworks to provide DisCOs with appropriate institutional (i.e., State, federal) support to facilitate their operation and innovative accounting practices. 3. The development of commons-public partnerships as an alternative to the established public-private, following the and models, with DisCOs facilitating: [3] Preston Evergreen a. Municipal service provision for local economies. b. FLOSS-built and open licensed, common-pool civic knowledge resources. [4] c. Practical workplace education on feminist economics, the commons, decentralized technology and the ethical market sectors offered by participating DisCOs. 4. Supportive municipal policies for provision or support for physical infrastructures for DisCOs, including hackerspaces, hackerlabs, maker and co-working spaces. Unused municipal facilities could serve as short- or long-term incubators for knowledge work, skill sharing and technology transfer, as well as for the development of new, federated DisCOs. 5. Support of community investment funds for federated DisCOs, with dispensations for: a. DisCO federation contributions b. Tax-exempt charitable donations c. State sponsorship (see point 1) 6. DisCO-oriented work training programs with DisCOs providing practical education in their specific sectors, as well as the DisCO methodology and tools. This would include transfer and acknowledgement of credits for higher education. 7. Research and higher education support, leveraging existing DisCO open-access documentation, training programs and pedagogical materials. 8. Support of DisCO initiatives as bottom-up facilitators of Green New Deal projects. Compared to normative public-private solutions, this would: a. Disburse funding for GND projects more equitably and at a lower risk, b. Enable substantial savings, absent a profit motive, c. Bring the benefits of impact at scale through highly federated actors, focused on regenerative economies of scope, not scale. 9. Prioritization of DisCOs and DisCO federations over for-profit entities when capitalizing on products/services derived from publicly funded research, including healthcare and medicine, code and end-consumer products. This would ensure fair pricing, ethical application and open licensing. 10. Policy development in concert with the International Labour Organization and the International Cooperative Alliance to recognize transnational, on-chain DisCOs as federated cooperatives. [5] Earlier we mentioned the first few . At present a variety of additional DisCO LABS in diverse sectors such as the arts, textile recycling/reuse, permaculture, education, online marketplaces and medicine are presently being planned and launched. Research findings from these pilots would experientially validate DisCOs advantages and potentially facilitate policy uptake. DisCO LABS Complementarily, there is abundant existing research on many of DisCO’s formative influences, such as multi-constituent social solidarity and cooperative sectors, existing Commons-public partnerships, the benefits/savings of FLOSS, blockchain/DLT experiences in record keeping and inventory tracking, can be included into DisCO-focused policy proposals. DisCOs are designed to be autonomous in operation and not State-dependent. From a legal standpoint, cooperatives are private entities. But in the interest of long term remediation — social, economic, environmental — governments would be called upon to prioritize support for generative, restorative industries, and to divert funding and subsidies away from harmful, extractive and exploitative ones. If DisCOs, to paraphrase the WWI, aim to ‘build the new world in the shell of the old’, it must be acknowledged that the old world still holds vast amounts of power. The affordances of radical, prefigurative projects such as DisCOs will always be affected by the constraints of existing systems, including public policy. [6] What DisCO proposes is : distributed production and economies not of , but of . With the increasing awareness and discussion (even if divisive) of our many global crises, taking a stand becomes more important, collectively and individually. Covid-19 has required countless people to work from home, which has also raised many reflective questions on the purpose and effects of those jobs. radical economic subsidiarity scale multi-faceted scope For true change to happen we must first address the productive and reproductive spheres of work, the decisions about what we produce and why, and how we regard fairness in the way we treat one another. Lasting change can’t be predicated on individualistic patterns of consumption, but consider this question: as citizens (more than consumers), can we continue to support the exploitative labor practices of the ever-growing economic power monopolies exemplified by Amazon, or do we see ourselves capable of contributing to the revolution of work, as exemplified by DisCO? While compatible with (i.e., co-operatives, the Social Solidarity Economy, etc.) and actively working to subvert the right-libertarian bent of most blockchain economics towards associationist ends, DisCOs also pave the way for decommodification and non-market exchange thanks to their commons orientation. existing economic forms They train us to resist and create capacity for whatever the future may hold. Finally, DisCOs place a at the center. Beyond the precariat, DisCOs exist to care for and reproduce — understood as people in communities who steward their own resources according to the rules, norms and values they set for themselves. new and more empowered political subject commoners With the sustenance of 2.5 billion people depending on natural resource commons and an abundance of commoning practices taking place in digital spaces, mutual aid groups, food production, cohabitation and fablabs and makerspaces, the logic of commoning is . DisCOs catalyze these practices into a feminist economic and care-oriented framework, paving the way for pervasively sustainable . evident in the ongoing Covid reality commons-based alternatives to the dominant order Wild facts and habit fables. Creatures, imaginations and impossible worlds. In this video feminist scholar and all around badass Donna Haraway shows us how Science Fiction is a “critical germ/seed and point of eruption” towards better futures. “No Experience Required” Afterword by Ann Marie Utratel I’ll keep this brief. If you’ve read some or all of this publication or its predecessor, the Disco Manifesto, it might seem like information best used by people with specific experience or expertise in fields like human resources, academic research, economics, organizational psychology, project management, accounting, team building, software design, cooperatives, or any of the other fields that may have been mentioned or implied. I don’t think that’s the case. The teams we’ve helped build and work with do have members with specific expertise, but they also have some people – like me – with far more general experience, and perhaps even several careers in their past. When I say “no experience required”, what I mean to do is remind you that in some moments, it’s more important to take a beginner’s approach and see what you can do with some new ideas. To someone who may be working from home now during the up-and-down pandemic crisis, I’d say try our time-tracking advice and understand where your precious hours go. If the research I’ve been reading is helpful to mainstream corporations, it’s helpful to you too: reports say that people are often more productive working from home, for a few reasons, one of them being that they’re simply spending more time working. Why? In my opinion, it’s possible that people don’t know when to stop, don’t have good boundaries yet, and don’t feel like they’re seen as “doing enough”. That’s not going to be sustainable in a shifting work-life balance full of new expectations, but it’s better not to rely on feelings or impressions. Capture your own time-tracking data and see for yourself. To someone who has a less secure position, or who is trying to move their side hustle up to the main focus, I’d say: consider if you might want to form a small, trusted team, make it a cooperative and share the workload as the side gig grows. Can you implement some mutual support practices? Are you interested in tracking care work, and opening discussions about how everyone’s work is valued?  Can the team make decisions together and bring everyone’s strengths forward? What about creating something to share in a community you belong to? Building an information or material commons is another step towards changing how we share and create together. All of the DisCO Principles and Values can be interpreted, adapted and implemented at a very small scale, and every step counts. If it seems like you’d need to be a multi-titled expert to take this on, let me debunk that right now. Cooperation doesn’t depend on titles, it depends on attitudes, goals and care. We care about the future, and we offer these ideas so that you can take inspiration and hope from them, starting exactly where you are right now. We’ll be here if you need us. Take care. About this article This article is the Last chapter of which is currently being serialised on HackerNoon. The featured image is by . for full image credits. Groove is in the Heart: The DisCO Elements , baddogwhiskas Click here DisCO stands for "Distributed Cooperative Organization" and it is a feminist, cooperative and commons-oriented alternative to the mainstream DAOspace. is a non-linear introduction to the "hows" of DisCO. to download the full PDF or EPub with extra content or visit for more resources. The DisCO Elements Click here DisCO.coop Footnotes How much should commoners be working with the Market/State? Here is our take on that subject: . Commons in the time of monsters: How P2P Politics can change the world, one city at a time is constituted as a legally registered in Andalusia, Spain. Guerrilla Media Collective non-profit and socially oriented worker owned cooperative For more on Commons-Public partnerships (the order of words is important) see . this report by Common Wealth FLOSS” stands for Free/Libre and Open Source Software. On-chain and Off-chain are terms used in the DAO space to distinguish algorithmic based governance (On-chain) from human agreements (Off-chain). We argue that the very dichotomy of off/on-chain elevates the blockchain as the primary focus of attention, subordinating social practices. In the DisCO Manifesto we argue that everything occurs “ ” where the corporeal dimension and human and environment needs precede all other considerations. For a simple description of On-chain/Off-chain governance, . onlife read this article Industrial Workers of the World. Click to visit their website or to read their history. here here

What Can Make DisCOs Grow

By Stacco Troncoso and Ann Marie Utratel Have you ever gone out dancing with a bunch of friends? If so, chances are you went to a disco, at least once or twice. How does a group of friends dance at a disco? Everyone knows, or learns by observation, some basic rules of social cooperation — avoid stepping on anyone’s feet, watch out that you don’t slam into people sharing the space around you, and please don’t micromanage the dj. But everyone can decide when and how they want to dance, whether solo, in pairs or in larger groupings. The aim is to have a good time together, and to care about each other’s well-being, too. Doing things like going dancing with friends or colleagues can be fun and spontaneous, with nothing more than some informal or unspoken rules. Of course, if you want to achieve a more defined collective goal, that takes time, patience and more explicit guidelines — and if you really want to be cooperative about it all, it’s even better if you debate and create those guidelines together. When we were writing up our organisational model for cooperative groups, we thought about how to name it. Acronyms or initials are popular for models with multi-word titles, and can sometimes also hint at some characteristic of the ideas behind the name. So, what do we mean by a DisCO? It stands for , and it’s a set of organisational tools and practices for groups of people who want to work together in a cooperative, commons-oriented, and feminist economic form. DisCO is also an alternative to another form called the , or . If you're not familiar with DAOs, they are blockchain-based entities that can execute payments, levy penalties, and enforce terms and contracts without human interaction. Think of a virtual robot that can automate governance processes and execute investments and payments for an organization and you're on the right track. Distributed Cooperative Organizations Decentralized Autonomous Organizations DAO [1] While there are , DAO projects have mostly prioritised focus on , and grandiose promises of , while reproducing many of the of the normative systems they aim to disrupt and decentralise. There is also a distinct lack of political and historical of other movements which have prefigured the dynamics of decentralisation and who could benefit from the advantages offered by DAOs. many exciting aspects to this technology speculative assets tokenization disruption power dynamics awareness [2] By design, DAOs can earn their own money, and contract and pay for services — they can actually create and wield their own economic power, according to the interests of their programmers. That’s a crucial point to recognize - technology doesn’t develop itself, it’s built by people and companies with specific worldviews and intentions which underlie the aims of the code. With being made by mega-corporations like IBM, HSBC, Facebook, Goldman Sachs and others, there is a very real danger that the future of these decentralised autonomous organizations will reproduce and existing inequalities and power dynamics. Image DAOs that automate and hyper-boost things like mass surveillance, economic tyranny and the suppression of dissent. Sound dystopian? Take a look at the list of investors above and engage in some speculative thinking about their means, motives and objectives. blockchain investments in the billions of USD amplify After analysing the situation, it’s clear that we need counter-cultural alternatives to leverage the positive aspects of DAOs for radically different economic and social ends. Our proposal is the DisCO framework. Feminist economic, commons-oriented, cooperative, and value sovereign: The DNA of DisCOs DisCOs are a cultural and structural framework combining influences from other forms and movements into a practical toolkit that benefits from the potential of Distributed Ledger Technologies (DLTs) . Despite boasts of decentralization and challenges to existing power structures, many of these aspects are curiously absent from most blockchain projects. These are: [3] [4] Harnessing the potential of the blockchain while addressing its deficits, DiSCOs prototype and permit tailoring of the originally developed for , a radical translation collective/cooperative and the first pilot project for DisCOs. These initial DisCO experiences can be greatly amplified to make DAO technologies accessible to common people, cooperators and the economically disadvantaged, breaking the monopoly of a white/male tech elite's involvement and benefit. Distributed Cooperative Organization (DisCO) Governance Model Guerrilla Translation The Seven DisCO principles DisCOs are distributed cooperatives based on the , but cooperatives have their shortcomings. The seven DisCO principles build on the existing cooperative tradition, as well as to arrive at a series of guidelines for highly efficient, socially and environmentally-oriented organizations. original seven cooperative principles Platform and Open Cooperativism In DisCOs, production is guided not by profit but by social and environmental priorities. Individual organizations embed these values in their cultural, productive and organizational processes, and technical/legal statutes. Geared toward positive outcomes in key areas: DisCOs extend decision making and ownership to all contributors whether present in all value chains or affected by the coop’s actions. Beyond workers, this may include neighbouring communities, suppliers, clients, reproductive and affective labour, financial backers, etc. as constituents. Multi-constituent: Unlike the typical behavior of market enterprises that exploit shared resources, DisCOs steward existing common wealth and generate new forms of shared resources. These new commons are created through market and value-tracked pro bono work. Commons may be digital (code, design, documentation, legal protocols and best practices, etc.) or physical (productive infrastructure, deliberation spaces, machinery, etc.) Active creators of commons: While physical production is kept local and needs-based following the , knowledge, resources and are shared at the global level with like-minded enterprises to create political and cultural counterpower to the prevailing corporate/capitalist economy. Transnational: “Design Global, Manufacture Local” logic value flows We distinguish between two types of care work: that performed (where the collective is seen as a living entity that needs commitment, material inputs and fidelity to its social mission) and care work performed for (mutual trust and intimacy support structures). Centered on care work: for the health of the collective the individual persons within the DisCO Three types of value — productive market value, pro-bono/commons-generating value, and care work value — are tracked through complementary value metrics. Value tracking is applied to all DisCO members, in turn influencing decision making, payments, work priorities, and more. Reimagining the origin and flows of value: While networks may or may not share common goals, federations are held together by shared commitments. Scaling extends a worldview from a center and forces everything in its path to conform to the animating logic. By contrast, DisCOs, as distributed and differentiated structures, replicate themselves through a standard that allows the federation to achieve critical mass without regimenting all parts. This dynamic resembles how TCP/IP allows a network of networks, the Internet, to function. Each node can be based on small group trust, intimacy and mutual support while still achieving a larger impact through federation. Primed for federation: federation protocol Prototyping DisCOs in the field: The DisCO Project Moving beyond (the tendency for blockchain/DAO projects to over promise on technical specifications before there is any solid, lived experiences to a project or proposal), DisCOs are based on the practices of the four movements mentioned earlier ( ; ; ; ) as well as the concrete experience of Guerrilla Translation and its . whitepaper culture Commons/P2P Open Cooperativism Feminist Economics Open Value Accounting fully developed DisCO governance model The has been created to cooperatively develop, prototype and popularize DisCOs, and provide integrated resources for those wanting to take part in their development. Here we intend to mature, codify and open source our for other collectives practising contributive accounting. We are also co-developing a modular for other commons-oriented collectives and businesses to adapt. This culture/structure distinction is expressed through two complementary components to the project: The DisCO and the DisCO . DisCO project cultural practices legal/technical infrastructure Framework Stack (Culture) is predicated on care work, and prototypes real world practices. It includes resources such as an educational portal; handbooks; audiovisual materials; infographics; DiSCO-thons and workshops to engage communities in developing and prototyping the model in practice. The purpose is to make DLTs, Contributory Accounting, Feminist Economics and other components accessible to the precariat. The DisCO Framework (Structure) will offer plug-and-play systems for the value tracking and online collaboratory dynamics inherent to DisCOs. Utilizing a combination of non-blockchain Distributed Ledger Technologies with public blockchains, the Stack will provide user-friendly, lightweight and energy efficient small node, trustworthy value tracking and economic networking systems. The DisCO Stack Together, DisCO culture and structure can allow us to transcend blockchain normativity, bringing a slew of fresh influences to the decentralised space, while making it more accesible to a more diverse and engaged set of users. Footnotes This is a gross simplification. For a more in-depth look at Decentralised Autonomous Organizations we recommend by Primavera de Filippi. These can include lowered transactional costs for social interactions within commons-oriented organizations and the potential for value sovereignty. I.e., when done right DAOs can make countercultural, post-capitalists processes cheaper and more efficient. are, basically, synchronized databases shared among several nodes and without central administrators. Think of these as a broader understanding of a blockchain, although . For a quick overview, here are infographics for , , Open Value Accounting ( and ) and . These include adopting capitalist practices to ensure competitiveness as defined by market logics, a disconnected managerial class unfamiliar with cooperative practices and ethics, and, worst case, the demutualization of coops. See more . [1] this critical overview [2] [3] Distributed Ledger Technologies not every DLT is a blockchain [4] P2P and the Commons Open Cooperativism 1 2 Feminist Economics [5] here This article has been adapted from If I Only had a Heart: a DisCO Manifesto , a publication analysing the role of supposedly disruptive technologies in social change, the potentials and pitfalls of DAO cultures, and how DisCOs can provide a coherent, more socially grounded alternative. The DisCO team plans more to produce more accessible, inclusive reading materials for potential partners and peers. Written by Stacco Troncoso and Ann Marie Utratel Art by id iom CC-BY-NC

Last Night A Distributed Cooperative Organization Saved My Life: A brief introduction to DisCOs

On Combinations Amongst Masters or Workmen against Each Other

Now—soft awhile—have I arrived so near the end?

Mark Twain's Speeches by Mark Twain, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . ON POETRY, VERACITY, AND SUICIDE here ON POETRY, VERACITY, AND SUICIDE ADDRESS AT A DINNER OF THE MANHATTAN DICKENS FELLOWSHIP,
          NEW YORK CITY, FEBRUARY 7, 1906

          This dinner was in commemoration of the ninety-fourth
          anniversary of the birth of Charles Dickens.  On an other
          occasion Mr. Clemens told the same story with variations and a
          different conclusion to the University Settlement Society. I always had taken an interest in young people who wanted to become poets. I remember I was particularly interested in one budding poet when I was a reporter. His name was Butter. One day he came to me and said, disconsolately, that he was going to commit suicide—he was tired of life, not being able to express his thoughts in poetic form. Butter asked me what I thought of the idea. I said I would; that it was a good idea. “You can do me a friendly turn. You go off in a private place and do it there, and I’ll get it all. You do it, and I’ll do as much for you some time.” At first he determined to drown himself. Drowning is so nice and clean, and writes up so well in a newspaper. But things ne’er do go smoothly in weddings, suicides, or courtships. Only there at the edge of the water, where Butter was to end himself, lay a life-preserver—a big round canvas one, which would float after the scrap-iron was soaked out of it. Butter wouldn’t kill himself with the life-preserver in sight, and so I had an idea. I took it to a pawnshop, and [soaked] it for a revolver: The pawnbroker didn’t think much of the exchange, but when I explained the situation he acquiesced. We went up on top of a high building, and this is what happened to the poet: He put the revolver to his forehead and blew a tunnel straight through his head. The tunnel was about the size of your finger. You could look right through it. The job was complete; there was nothing in it. Well, after that that man never could write prose, but he could write poetry. He could write it after he had blown his brains out. There is lots of that talent all over the country, but the trouble is they don’t develop it. I am suffering now from the fact that I, who have told the truth a good many times in my life, have lately received more letters than anybody else urging me to lead a righteous life. I have more friends who want to see me develop on a high level than anybody else. Young John D. Rockefeller, two weeks ago, taught his Bible class all about veracity, and why it was better that everybody should always keep a plentiful supply on hand. Some of the letters I have received suggest that I ought to attend his class and learn, too. Why, I know Mr. Rockefeller, and he is a good fellow. He is competent in many ways to teach a Bible class, but when it comes to veracity he is only thirty-five years old. I’m seventy years old. I have been familiar with veracity twice as long as he. And the story about George Washington and his little hatchet has also been suggested to me in these letters—in a fugitive way, as if I needed some of George Washington and his hatchet in my constitution. Why, dear me, they overlook the real point in that story. The point is not the one that is usually suggested, and you can readily see that. The point is not that George said to his father, “Yes, father, I cut down the cheery-tree; I can’t tell a lie,” but that the little boy—only seven years old—should have his sagacity developed under such circumstances. He was a boy wise beyond his years. His conduct then was a prophecy of later years. Yes, I think he was the most remarkable man the country ever produced-up to my time, anyway. Now then, little George realized that circumstantial evidence was against him. He knew that his father would know from the size of the chips that no full-grown hatchet cut that tree down, and that no man would have haggled it so. He knew that his father would send around the plantation and inquire for a small boy with a hatchet, and he had the wisdom to come out and confess it. Now, the idea that his father was overjoyed when he told little George that he would rather have him cut down, a thousand cheery-trees than tell a lie is all nonsense. What did he really mean? Why, that he was absolutely astonished that he had a son who had the chance to tell a lie and didn’t. I admire old George—if that was his name—for his discernment. He knew when he said that his son couldn’t tell a lie that he was stretching it a good deal. He wouldn’t have to go to John D. Rockefeller’s Bible class to find that out. The way the old George Washington story goes down it doesn’t do anybody any good. It only discourages people who can tell a lie. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Mark Twain (2004). Mark Twain's Speeches. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/3188/pg3188-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

ON POETRY, VERACITY, AND SUICIDE

THE PILGRIMS.

Is there such a feeling as love at first sight?

Sir Louis Leaves Greshamsbury

175 Stories To Learn About Dao

The Donkey Ride

Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . A Serious Interview here A Serious Interview There are people who delight in serious interviews, especially when to them appertains the part of offering advice or administering rebuke, and perhaps the archdeacon was one of these. Yet on this occasion he did not prepare himself for the coming conversation with much anticipation of pleasure. Whatever might be his faults he was not an inhospitable man, and he almost felt that he was sinning against hospitality in upbraiding Eleanor in his own house. Then, also, he was not quite sure that he would get the best of it. His wife had told him that he decidedly would not, and he usually gave credit to what his wife said. He was, however, so convinced of what he considered to be the impropriety of Eleanor's conduct, and so assured also of his own duty in trying to check it, that his conscience would not allow him to take his wife's advice and go to bed quietly. Eleanor's face as she entered the room was not such as to reassure him. As a rule she was always mild in manner and gentle in conduct; but there was that in her eye which made it not an easy task to scold her. In truth she had been little used to scolding. No one since her childhood had tried it but the archdeacon, and he had generally failed when he did try it. He had never done so since her marriage; and now, when he saw her quiet, easy step as she entered his room, he almost wished that he had taken his wife's advice. He began by apologizing for the trouble he was giving her. She begged him not to mention it, assured him that walking downstairs was no trouble to her at all, and then took a seat and waited patiently for him to begin his attack. "My dear Eleanor," he said, "I hope you believe me when I assure you that you have no sincerer friend than I am." To this Eleanor answered nothing, and therefore he proceeded. "If you had a brother of your own, I should not probably trouble you with what I am going to say. But as it is I cannot but think that it must be a comfort to you to know that you have near you one who is as anxious for your welfare as any brother of your own could be." "I never had a brother," said she. "I know you never had, and it is therefore that I speak to you." "I never had a brother," she repeated, "but I have hardly felt the want. Papa has been to me both father and brother." "Your father is the fondest and most affectionate of men. But—" "He is—the fondest and most affectionate of men, and the best of counsellors. While he lives I can never want advice." This rather put the archdeacon out. He could not exactly contradict what his sister-in-law said about her father, and yet he did not at all agree with her. He wanted her to understand that he tendered his assistance because her father was a soft, good-natured gentleman not sufficiently knowing in the ways of the world; but he could not say this to her. So he had to rush into the subject-matter of his proffered counsel without any acknowledgement on her part that she could need it, or would be grateful for it. "Susan tells me that you received a letter this evening from Mr. Slope." "Yes; Papa brought it in the brougham. Did he not tell you?" "And Susan says that you objected to let her know what it was about." "I don't think she asked me. But had she done so, I should not have told her. I don't think it nice to be asked about one's letters. If one wishes to show them, one does so without being asked." "True. Quite so. What you say is quite true. But is not the fact of your receiving letters from Mr. Slope, which you do not wish to show to your friends, a circumstance which must excite some—some surprise—some suspicion—" "Suspicion!" said she, not speaking above her usual voice, speaking still in a soft, womanly tone but yet with indignation. "Suspicion! And who suspects me, and of what?" And then there was a pause, for the archdeacon was not quite ready to explain the ground of his suspicion. "No, Dr. Grantly, I did not choose to show Mr. Slope's letter to Susan. I could not show it to anyone till Papa had seen it. If you have any wish to read it now, you can do so," and she handed the letter to him over the table. This was an amount of compliance which he had not at all expected, and which rather upset him in his tactics. However, he took the letter, perused it carefully, and then refolding it, kept it on the table under his hand. To him it appeared to be in almost every respect the letter of a declared lover; it seemed to corroborate his worst suspicions; and the fact of Eleanor's showing it to him was all but tantamount to a declaration on her part that it was her pleasure to receive love-letters from Mr. Slope. He almost entirely overlooked the real subject-matter of the epistle, so intent was he on the forthcoming courtship and marriage. "I'll thank you to give it me back, if you please, Dr. Grantly." He took it in his hand and held it up, but made no immediate overture to return it. "And Mr. Harding has seen this?" said he. "Of course he has," said she; "it was written that he might see it. It refers solely to his business—of course I showed it to him." "And, Eleanor, do you think that that is a proper letter for you—for a person in your condition—to receive from Mr. Slope?" "Quite a proper letter," said she, speaking, perhaps, a little out of obstinacy, probably forgetting at the moment the objectionable mention of her silken curls. "Then, Eleanor, it is my duty to tell you that I wholly differ from you." "So I suppose," said she, instigated now by sheer opposition and determination not to succumb. "You think Mr. Slope is a messenger direct from Satan. I think he is an industrious, well-meaning clergyman. It's a pity that we differ as we do. But, as we do differ, we had probably better not talk about it." Here Eleanor undoubtedly put herself in the wrong. She might probably have refused to talk to Dr. Grantly on the matter in dispute without any impropriety, but, having consented to listen to him, she had no business to tell him that he regarded Mr. Slope as an emissary from the evil one; nor was she justified in praising Mr. Slope, seeing that in her heart of hearts she did not think well of him. She was, however, wounded in spirit, and angry, and bitter. She had been subjected to contumely and cross-questioning and ill-usage through the whole evening. No one, not even Mr. Arabin, not even her father, had been kind to her. All this she attributed to the prejudice and conceit of the archdeacon, and therefore she resolved to set no bounds to her antagonism to him. She would neither give nor take quarter. He had greatly presumed in daring to question her about her correspondence, and she was determined to show that she thought so. "Eleanor, you are forgetting yourself," said he, looking very sternly at her. "Otherwise you would never tell me that I conceive any man to be a messenger from Satan." "But you do," said she. "Nothing is too bad for him. Give me that letter, if you please;" and she stretched out her hand and took it from him. "He has been doing his best to serve Papa, doing more than any of Papa's friends could do; and yet, because he is the chaplain of a bishop whom you don't like, you speak of him as though he had no right to the usage of a gentleman." "He has done nothing for your father." "I believe that he has done a great deal; and, as far as I am concerned, I am grateful to him. Nothing that you can say can prevent my being so. I judge people by their acts, and his, as far as I can see them, are good." She then paused for a moment. "If you have nothing further to say, I shall be obliged by being permitted to say good night—I am very tired." Dr. Grantly had, as he thought, done his best to be gracious to his sister-in-law. He had endeavoured not to be harsh to her, and had striven to pluck the sting from his rebuke. But he did not intend that she should leave him without hearing him. "I have something to say, Eleanor, and I fear I must trouble you to hear it. You profess that it is quite proper that you should receive from Mr. Slope such letters as that you have in your hand. Susan and I think very differently. You are, of course, your own mistress, and much as we both must grieve should anything separate you from us, we have no power to prevent you from taking steps which may lead to such a separation. If you are so wilful as to reject the counsel of your friends, you must be allowed to cater for yourself. But, Eleanor, I may at any rate ask you this. Is it worth your while to break away from all those you have loved—from all who love you—for the sake of Mr. Slope?" "I don't know what you mean, Dr. Grantly; I don't know what you're talking about. I don't want to break away from anybody." "But you will do so if you connect yourself with Mr. Slope. Eleanor, I must speak out to you. You must choose between your sister and myself and our friends, and Mr. Slope and his friends. I say nothing of your father, as you may probably understand his feelings better than I do." "What do you mean, Dr. Grantly? What am I to understand? I never heard such wicked prejudice in my life." "It is no prejudice, Eleanor. I have known the world longer than you have done. Mr. Slope is altogether beneath you. You ought to know and feel that he is so. Pray—pray think of this before it is too late." "Too late!" "Or if you will not believe me, ask Susan; you cannot think she is prejudiced against you. Or even consult your father—he is not prejudiced against you. Ask Mr. Arabin—" "You haven't spoken to Mr. Arabin about this!" said she, jumping up and standing before him. "Eleanor, all the world in and about Barchester will be speaking of it soon." "But have you spoken to Mr. Arabin about me and Mr. Slope?" "Certainly I have, and he quite agrees with me." "Agrees with what?" said she. "I think you are trying to drive me mad." "He agrees with me and Susan that it is quite impossible you should be received at Plumstead as Mrs. Slope." Not being favourites with the tragic muse, we do not dare to attempt any description of Eleanor's face when she first heard the name of Mrs. Slope pronounced as that which would or should or might at some time appertain to herself. The look, such as it was, Dr. Grantly did not soon forget. For a moment or two she could find no words to express her deep anger and deep disgust; indeed, at this conjuncture, words did not come to her very freely. "How dare you be so impertinent?" at last she said, and then she hurried out of the room without giving the archdeacon the opportunity of uttering another word. It was with difficulty she contained herself till she reached her own room; and then, locking the door, she threw herself on her bed and sobbed as though her heart would break. But even yet she had no conception of the truth. She had no idea that her father and her sister had for days past conceived in sober earnest the idea that she was going to marry this man. She did not even then believe that the archdeacon thought that she would do so. By some manoeuvre of her brain she attributed the origin of the accusation to Mr. Arabin, and as she did so her anger against him was excessive, and the vexation of her spirit almost unendurable. She could not bring herself to think that the charge was made seriously. It appeared to her most probable that the archdeacon and Mr. Arabin had talked over her objectionable acquaintance with Mr. Slope; that Mr. Arabin in his jeering, sarcastic way had suggested the odious match as being the severest way of treating with contumely her acquaintance with his enemy; and that the archdeacon, taking the idea from him, thought proper to punish her by the allusion. The whole night she lay awake thinking of what had been said, and this appeared to be the most probable solution. But the reflexion that Mr. Arabin should have in any way mentioned her name in connexion with that of Mr. Slope was overpowering; and the spiteful ill-nature of the archdeacon in repeating the charge to her made her wish to leave his house almost before the day had broken. One thing was certain: nothing should make her stay there beyond the following morning, and nothing should make her sit down to breakfast in company with Dr. Grantly. When she thought of the man whose name had been linked with her own, she cried from sheer disgust. It was only because she would be thus disgusted, thus pained and shocked and cut to the quick, that the archdeacon had spoken the horrid word. He wanted to make her quarrel with Mr. Slope, and therefore he had outraged her by his abominable vulgarity. She determined that at any rate he should know that she appreciated it. Nor was the archdeacon a bit better satisfied with the result of his serious interview than was Eleanor. He gathered from it, as indeed he could hardly fail to do, that she was very angry with him, but he thought that she was thus angry, not because she was suspected of an intention to marry Mr. Slope, but because such an intention was imputed to her as a crime. Dr. Grantly regarded this supposed union with disgust, but it never occurred to him that Eleanor was outraged because she looked at it exactly in the same light. He returned to his wife, vexed and somewhat disconsolate, but nevertheless confirmed in his wrath against his sister-in-law. "Her whole behaviour," said he, "has been most objectionable. She handed me his love-letter to read as though she were proud of it. And she is proud of it. She is proud of having this slavering, greedy man at her feet. She will throw herself and John Bold's money into his lap; she will ruin her boy, disgrace her father and you, and be a wretched miserable woman." His spouse, who was sitting at her toilet-table, continued her avocations, making no answer to all this. She had known that the archdeacon would gain nothing by interfering, but she was too charitable to provoke him by saying so while he was in such deep sorrow. "This comes of a man making such a will as that of Bold's," he continued. "Eleanor is no more fitted to be trusted with such an amount of money in her own hands than is a charity-school girl." Still Mrs. Grantly made no reply. "But I have done my duty; I can do nothing further. I have told her plainly that she cannot be allowed to form a link of connexion between me and that man. From henceforward it will not be in my power to make her welcome at Plumstead. I cannot have Mr. Slope's love-letters coming here. Susan, I think you had better let her understand that, as her mind on this subject seems to be irrevocably fixed, it will be better for all parties that she should return to Barchester." Now Mrs. Grantly was angry with Eleanor—nearly as angry as her husband—but she had no idea of turning her sister out of the house. She therefore at length spoke out and explained to the archdeacon in her own mild, seducing way that he was fuming and fussing and fretting himself very unnecessarily. She declared that things, if left alone, would arrange themselves much better than he could arrange them, and at last succeeded in inducing him to go to bed in a somewhat less inhospitable state of mind. On the following morning Eleanor's maid was commissioned to send word into the dining-room that her mistress was not well enough to attend prayers and that she would breakfast in her own room. Here she was visited by her father, and declared to him her intention of returning immediately to Barchester. He was hardly surprised by the announcement. All the household seemed to be aware that something had gone wrong. Everyone walked about with subdued feet, and people's shoes seemed to creak more than usual. There was a look of conscious intelligence on the faces of the women, and the men attempted, but in vain, to converse as though nothing were the matter. All this had weighed heavily on the heart of Mr. Harding, and when Eleanor told him that her immediate return to Barchester was a necessity, he merely sighed piteously and said that he would be ready to accompany her. But here she objected strenuously. She had a great wish, she said, to go alone; a great desire that it might be seen that her father was not implicated in her quarrel with Dr. Grantly. To this at last he gave way; but not a word passed between them about Mr. Slope—not a word was said, not a question asked as to the serious interview on the preceding evening. There was, indeed, very little confidence between them, though neither of them knew why it should be so. Eleanor once asked him whether he would not call upon the bishop, but he answered rather tartly that he did not know—he did not think he should, but he could not say just at present. And so they parted. Each was miserably anxious for some show of affection, for some return of confidence, for some sign of the feeling that usually bound them together. But none was given. The father could not bring himself to question his daughter about her supposed lover, and the daughter would not sully her mouth by repeating the odious word with which Dr. Grantly had roused her wrath. And so they parted. There was some trouble in arranging the method of Eleanor's return. She begged her father to send for a post-chaise, but when Mrs. Grantly heard of this, she objected strongly. If Eleanor would go away in dudgeon with the archdeacon, why should she let all the servants and all the neighbourhood know that she had done so? So at last Eleanor consented to make use of the Plumstead carriage, and as the archdeacon had gone out immediately after breakfast and was not to return till dinner-time, she also consented to postpone her journey till after lunch, and to join the family at that time. As to the subject of the quarrel not a word was said by anyone. The affair of the carriage was arranged by Mr. Harding, who acted as Mercury between the two ladies; they, when they met, kissed each other very lovingly and then sat down each to her crochet work as though nothing was amiss in all the world. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Anthony Trollope (2002). Barchester Towers. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/3409/pg3409-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

A Serious Interview

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. Governance /Learn Repo 1. Alternatives to Corporate Consciousness We must conceive of a new kind of group consciousness, something alternative to corporate consciousness, that is capable of production on a large scale. 2. Decentralized Voting System for the Blockchain Community RSquad Blockchain Lab programmers about the development of a smart contract voting system for Free TON Governance. 3. The Cosmos We’ve All Been Waiting For In 2023, one of the oldest blockchain ecosystems will begin to deliver on its original promise at the scale many have hoped for. 4. Make Money by Writing About the Decentralized Internet! It’s time to guide those who ‘can't find Web3’ in the right direction. 5. An Essential Guide to IAM (Identity Access Management) in 2022 The term IAM is one of the common you hear in cloud-native environments. What does such a system do? A fast and pragmatic introduction to IAM 6. iZUMi Finance brings DAO based veNFT Governance with Quadratic Voting iZUMi Finance, a protocol that enables programmable liquidity mining on Uniswap V3, has announced the introduction of its decentralized autonomous organization. 7. On The Issues of Grant Process In 2019, the value of U.S. venture capital investments was $108 billion. In the same year, the federal government spent $131 billion on research and development. 8. Buidling DAO-As-A-Service For Energy Efficient Decentralized Governance The shortcomings of conventional organizations and systems of collaboration lead to problems such as mismanagement of resources 9. SORA Governance: The Wisdom of The Crowds. How can a randomly selected governance, prevent corruption and directly improve all financial sectors? SORA Parliament model will answer this question. 10. How To Review a Governance Action Governors approving a change should know which functions are being called, what parameters are being used, and what effects these will have. 11. European Parliament under Cyberattack after Declaring Russia ‘State Sponsor of Terrorism’ Strong indication that the hacking team responsible is called Killnet, a pro-Russia organization 12. Why 2022 Will Be the Year of the DAOs DAO developers believe that they can eliminate human manipulation or error from how companies work. This way, decisions are geared towards profitability alone. 13. Moon Rabbit's Trading Volume Exceeded $10M Following Its Listing On Uniswap Moon Rabbit uses a Substrate-based scalability solution that permits a multi-level blockchain launch. 14. The Next Version Of Colony is Called Old Colony And It Makes Sense Which confusingly, is old Colony. Colony of the Whitepaper. Colony as advertised. Colony as it always should have been 15. Why Outsourcing Core Business Functions Can Be Dangerous Outsourcing a core business function, no matter how big and strong a company is, can be a very serious decision. 16. The Alternative DAO Path: Disruptive Voting Methods Can Change Power Dynamics The major issue arising from the current voting consensus at DAOs is the uneven distribution of voting power. But, there's a better way to optimize voting 17. Why I Dream Of A One World Government & New World Order The One World Government is becoming a reality - just not in the way you might think. 18. The Future of Organizations is Decentralized and DAO Alpha Venture DAO aims to be a community of Web3 users, thought leaders, investors, and operators who build and innovate Web3 solutions. 19. Novel Solutions for Inclusive Digital Currencies An efficient, interoperable, scalable, and quantum encrypted CBDC solution for sovereign monetary systems of the future, possible today. 20. Crypto Will Never Replace a Major Currency (and It Doesn’t Need To) Crypto will never replace a major currency (and it doesn't need to in order to be successful) 21. Blockchain Governance and the Concept of Organized Anarchies An organized anarchy perspective on power and influence in blockchain decision-making. 22. "Success will be found because developers are lazy" Ever wonder why you are felling anxious about the Universe? Come here to find out why! 23. Using Blockchain for Effective Governance Blockchain is secure, trusted, and transparent, making it an ideal technology for governance. This article explores how governments can adopt Blockchain. 24. What is Quadratic Voting? Quadratic Voting is a method of collective decision-making in which a participant votes not just for or against an issue, but also expresses how strongly they feel about it. It can help protect the interests of small groups of voters that care deeply about particular issues. Quadratic Voting can be used in democratic institutions, in corporate governance, and blockchain-enabled collective decision-making. 25. From DOJ Settlement, Facebook to Eliminate Tool that Enables Discriminatory Advertising Facebook has agreed to eliminate features in its advertising business that allow advertisers to discriminate against groups of people. 26. Online Communities Are Still Catching Up to My Mother's Garden Club The Internet has been plagued by a phenomenon I call “implicit feudalism”: a bias, both cultural and technical, for generating absolutist fiefdoms. 27. He/Him/Master of Discovery "Ditch the ‘we love working!’ narrative. It’s unattractive." 28. The #NoFork Movement, OR The Real Reason Why We Need DAOs Everyone knows that forking is risky, expensive, and potential destructive. But none of those problems are the real reason I'm obsessed with #nofork problems. 29. Governance without Government A new phase of humanity built on decentralized collaboration. 30. Are Bitcoin Investments Legal? Given its nature as a decentralized digital asset, Bitcoin's legal status was always going to cause major debate. 31. How To Establish Better Governance Recently, one of our Site Reliability Engineers (SRE) noticed a workload running in our cluster which he hasn’t seen before. The workload was consuming some resources and the SRE wanted to apply some updates to the cluster but was not sure who owns the workload, and doesn’t know if his updates would have an impact on it or not. 32. The Importance of Decentralization and Governance in Crypto The past few decades have shown us, time and time again, that centralized financial systems are incredibly vulnerable. 33. How to Improve Model Quality in Machine Learning Model quality is dependent on minimizing the model error over the training dataset and maximizing model confidence over unknown samples to prevent overfitting. 34. The Principles of Information Engineering on the Internet I envision that the future of Internet, Cyber Laws, Info Security & Governance will be very closely based on these ideas…Information Engineering Principles 35. 7 Events That May Shape the Global Economy in 2023 The following black swan events, if they occur, may have far-reaching effects on the state of the global economy in 2023. 36. Distributed Governance and Anonymity: A Bad Idea One of the big debates in the Genesis DAO started by DAOstack was the question of anonymity. Should people be able to make proposals and ask for budgets without providing a real identity? 37. Proposal making in DAOs: the limitations of “Anyone Proposes Anything” If democracy were equivalent to voting, we wouldn’t need separate words to describe them. Unfortunately, when it comes to DAOs, too often, the focus is on the voting mechanisms, with an assumption that “anyone can propose anything” is both fair and sufficient. Some DAOs are very successful with this methodology, but it doesn’t scale well, nor does it account for the variety in the types of decisions that an organization makes. 38. Closing The Gap Between Companies & DAOs Decentralized Autonomous Organizations (DAOs) are a utopian idea. Today’s organizations - corporations, government agencies, and non-profit organizations - have a jurisdiction. DAOs are everywhere and nowhere. Today’s organizations embrace hierarchy and have governing boards and managers. DAOs are flat and they make decisions either by number of votes from token-holders (participatory DAOs) or by the rules of the code itself (algorithmic DAOs). Today’s organizations require people to routinely conduct legally-required functions, such as paying employees or buying insurance. DAO users and counter-parties are compensated automatically through smart contracts. 39. The State of the DAO: Rise, Fall, and Rise The last few weeks have seen some major failures in the area of DAO and distributed governance. They’ve also marked a revival of energy for DAO technology, with new initiatives that seem to pick up where the failures left a gap. 40. A Taxonomy for Open Source Software Companies: Governance and Commercialization There is a lot of complexity in the world of open source, yet there is also surprising commonality among governance approaches and commercialization strategies 41. Can’t Buy Me Love: An Argument for Implementing Illiquidity Mapping human values into code.  Hint: its hard to measure them in bitcoin. 42. Time, Space, and DACs: The Way Ahead While regarding how to form a DAC, people are too optimistic or ideal. It seems DAC will start from scratch by itself when connecting people (it's definitely not, remember the Guild that the Mandalorian has joined, it is a typical DAC, you can see how complicated it is), no clear path was given or discussed so far. DAC would be the mainstream value creation entity in the Value Internet Era. 43. How to Ensure DevOps Security in CI/CD Environments Security is a product feature, and everyone involved in the DevOps workflow is responsible for it. Here are some key measures to ensure greater security. 44. Minecraft May Offer the Best Model for Internet Governance Looking at today’s Internet, it is easy to wonder: whatever happened to the dream that it would be good for democracy? Well, looking past the scandals of big social media and scary plays of autocracy’s hackers, I think there’s still room for hope. The web remains full of small experiments in self-governance. It’s still happening, quietly maybe, but at such a tremendous scale that we have a chance, not only to revive the founding dream of the web, but to bring modern scientific methods to basic millenia-old questions about self-governance, and how it works. 45. How’s That Open Source Governance Working for You? Isn’t it weird that the radically democratic miracle of open-source collaboration is so full of monarchical dictatorships? 46. Speculative AMMs Are the Future of DeFi Since the last two years, a significant upsurge has taken place in the Defi space. Gone are the days where you had limited options for what you can do with your crypto. [47. Will Covid-19 Spur Innovation: 4 Insights for Entrepreneurs](https://hackernoon.com/will-covid-19-spur-innovation-4-insights-for-entrepreneurs-us8j3yj5) The coronavirus pandemic has been life changing for all of us. National lockdowns, quarantines, the #stayathome campaign, remote work, interrupted travel plans, as well as struggling businesses and economies have accounted for a disruptive start to 2020. One industry that has been put to the test in the time of pandemic is healthcare. 48. One More Level of E-Government Development Everyone Forgot About Many countries develop their own E-Government systems nowadays. Experts define several stages of E-Government services development. In the article, we explain how the final level of E-gov services development should work so that its outcomes provide citizens with the maximum possible value. 49. The Future of Governance is DAO Can we even effectively regulate a global network of computers upon which these contracts are executed? My gut reaction is this will be very difficult. 50. Balancing Governance and Privacy with the HOPR DAO HOPR is building a DAO which can operate legally in the real world without exposing its members to liability. 51. The Innovation of Web3.0 Governance Mechanism From the Perspective of DAO’s Decentralization Governance effectiveness is the core metric for tracking community values. 52. Exploring Pros and Cons of DAOs vs. Traditional Vertical Structures In this article we compare the main pros and cons of the classical control system and DAO. Who will win? 53. [Interview] The Struggles and Successes of Masternode Voting - Dash Core CEO When I dove into the world of crypto and blockchain governance, one of the first projects to capture my attention was Dash. 54. Compliance by Design is the future of Blockchains - Beni Issembert, CMO at Concordium This article talks about compliance by design in a blockchain ecosystem focusing on Zk-protocol and the development of smart contracts using rust language. 55. What is Metagovernance? In a DAO, unlike a traditional corporation, projects and priorities are voted on by community members. 56. Meaningful Crypto Conversations That Aren't About Getting Your First Lambo Recently, Warren Buffett told the world cryptocurrency has no value. He doesn’t own any and never will. 57. An Introduction to AWS SSO VS Cross-account Role-based IAM Access Considered to be the best practices in AWS, one of the most popular ways to maximize AWS's potential is to utilize multiple accounts. 58. Is the Friendshoring Zone Safe for the Global Economy and Supply Chains? Friendshoring advocates are outsourcing to allied nations. But is the friendshoring zone a boon or bane to the global economy & supply chains? Let's find out. 59. Optimism - Curse of Big IT Projects and How to Manage It Most of us who have worked on IT projects feel the resonance of Hofstadter's Law: 60. Distributed Governance and Anonymity: A Bad Idea One of the big debates in the Genesis DAO started by DAOstack was the question of anonymity. Should people be able to make proposals and ask for budgets without providing a real identity? 61. Take your time, do it right: Commons Governance A guide to how DisCO governance specifically articulates the principles and values outlined in the prior chapter. 62. What Can Make DisCOs Grow What needs to happen for DisCOs to grow and flourish across the economy? 63. Build Your Distributed Cooperative Organization with the DisCO CAT DisCO’s Community Algorithmic Trust, or CAT, a series of modular software platforms designed to enable people to learn about and build viable DisCOs. 64. DisCO in 7 Principles and 11 Values A new framing of the 7 DisCO (Distributed Cooperative Organization) principles with practical examples and an introduction our pilot projects, the DisCO LABS 65. Care Work First, Code Later: DisCO Philosophy 101 The personal stuff: How and why the recognition of care work is so crucial for change-makers and DisCos. Thank you for checking out the 65 most read stories about Governance on HackerNoon. to find the most read stories about any technology. Visit the /Learn Repo

65 Stories To Learn About Governance

The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson by Mark Twain, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Roxana Insists Upon Reform here Roxana Insists Upon Reform The true Southern watermelon is a boon apart, and not to be mentioned with commoner things. It is chief of this world’s luxuries, king by the grace of God over all the fruits of the earth. When one has tasted it, he knows what the angels eat. It was not a Southern watermelon that Eve took: we know it because she repented. —Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar. About the time that Wilson was bowing the committee out, Pembroke Howard was entering the next house to report. He found the old Judge sitting grim and straight in his chair, waiting. “Well, Howard—the news?” “The best in the world.” “Accepts, does he?” and the light of battle gleamed joyously in the Judge’s eye. “Accepts? Why, he jumped at it.” “Did, did he? Now that’s fine—that’s very fine. I like that. When is it to be?” “Now! Straight off! To-night! An admirable fellow—admirable!” “Admirable? He’s a darling! Why, it’s an honor as well as a pleasure to stand up before such a man. Come—off with you! Go and arrange everything—and give him my heartiest compliments. A rare fellow, indeed; an admirable fellow, as you have said!” Howard hurried away, saying— “I’ll have him in the vacant stretch between Wilson’s and the haunted house within the hour, and I’ll bring my own pistols.” Judge Driscoll began to walk the floor in a state of pleased excitement; but presently he stopped, and began to think—began to think of Tom. Twice he moved toward the secretary, and twice he turned away again; but finally he said— “This may be my last night in the world—I must not take the chance. He is worthless and unworthy, but it is largely my fault. He was intrusted to me by my brother on his dying bed, and I have indulged him to his hurt, instead of training him up severely, and making a man of him. I have violated my trust, and I must not add the sin of desertion to that. I have forgiven him once already, and would subject him to a long and hard trial before forgiving him again, if I could live; but I must not run that risk. No, I must restore the will. But if I survive the duel, I will hide it away, and he will not know, and I will not tell him until he reforms, and I see that his reformation is going to be permanent.” He re-drew the will, and his ostensible nephew was heir to a fortune again. As he was finishing his task, Tom, wearied with another brooding tramp, entered the house and went tiptoeing past the sitting-room door. He glanced in, and hurried on, for the sight of his uncle had nothing but terrors for him to-night. But his uncle was writing! That was unusual at this late hour. What could he be writing? A chill of anxiety settled down upon Tom’s heart. Did that writing concern him? He was afraid so. He reflected that when ill luck begins, it does not come in sprinkles, but in showers. He said he would get a glimpse of that document or know the reason why. He heard some one coming, and stepped out of sight and hearing. It was Pembroke Howard. What could be hatching? Howard said, with great satisfaction: “Everything’s right and ready. He’s gone to the battle-ground with his second and the surgeon—also with his brother. I’ve arranged it all with Wilson—Wilson’s his second. We are to have three shots apiece.” “Good! How is the moon?” “Bright as day, nearly. Perfect, for the distance—fifteen yards. No wind—not a breath; hot and still.” “All good; all first-rate. Here, Pembroke, read this, and witness it.” Pembroke read and witnessed the will, then gave the old man’s hand a hearty shake and said: “Now that’s right, York—but I knew you would do it. You couldn’t leave that poor chap to fight along without means or profession, with certain defeat before him, and I knew you wouldn’t, for his father’s sake if not for his own.” “For his dead father’s sake I couldn’t, I know; for poor Percy—but you know what Percy was to me. But mind—Tom is not to know of this unless I fall to-night.” “I understand. I’ll keep the secret.” The Judge put the will away, and the two started for the battle-ground. In another minute the will was in Tom’s hands. His misery vanished, his feelings underwent a tremendous revulsion. He put the will carefully back in its place, and spread his mouth and swung his hat once, twice, three times around his head, in imitation of three rousing huzzas, no sound issuing from his lips. He fell to communing with himself excitedly and joyously, but every now and then he let off another volley of dumb hurrahs. He said to himself: “I’ve got the fortune again, but I’ll not let on that I know about it. And this time I’m going to hang on to it. I take no more risks. I’ll gamble no more, I’ll drink no more, because—well, because I’ll not go where there is any of that sort of thing going on, again. It’s the sure way, and the only sure way; I might have thought of that sooner—well, yes, if I had wanted to. But now—dear me, I’ve had a scare this time, and I’ll take no more chances. Not a single chance more. Land! I persuaded myself this evening that I could fetch him around without any great amount of effort, but I’ve been getting more and more heavy-hearted and doubtful straight along, ever since. If he tells me about this thing, all right; but if he doesn’t, I sha’n’t let on. I—well, I’d like to tell Pudd’nhead Wilson, but—no, I’ll think about that; perhaps I won’t.” He whirled off another dead huzza, and said, “I’m reformed, and this time I’ll stay so, sure!” He was about to close with a final grand silent demonstration, when he suddenly recollected that Wilson had put it out of his power to pawn or sell the Indian knife, and that he was once more in awful peril of exposure by his creditors for that reason. His joy collapsed utterly, and he turned away and moped toward the door moaning and lamenting over the bitterness of his luck. He dragged himself up-stairs, and brooded in his room a long time disconsolate and forlorn, with Luigi’s Indian knife for a text. At last he sighed and said: “When I supposed these stones were glass and this ivory bone, the thing hadn’t any interest for me because it hadn’t any value, and couldn’t help me out of my trouble. But now—why, now it is full of interest; yes, and of a sort to break a body’s heart. It’s a bag of gold that has turned to dirt and ashes in my hands. It could save me, and save me so easily, and yet I’ve got to go to ruin. It’s like drowning with a life-preserver in my reach. All the hard luck comes to me, and all the good luck goes to other people—Pudd’nhead Wilson, for instance; even his career has got a sort of a little start at last, and what has he done to deserve it, I should like to know? Yes, he has opened his own road, but he isn’t content with that, but must block mine. It’s a sordid, selfish world, and I wish I was out of it.” He allowed the light of the candle to play upon the jewels of the sheath, but the flashings and sparklings had no charm for his eye; they were only just so many pangs to his heart. “I must not say anything to Roxy about this thing,” he said, “she is too daring. She would be for 186digging these stones out and selling them, and then—why, she would be arrested and the stones traced, and then—” The thought made him quake, and he hid the knife away, trembling all over and glancing furtively about, like a criminal who fancies that the accuser is already at hand. Should he try to sleep? Oh, no, sleep was not for him; his trouble was too haunting, too afflicting for that. He must have somebody to mourn with. He would carry his despair to Roxy. He had heard several distant gunshots, but that sort of thing was not uncommon, and they had made no impression upon him. He went out at the back door, and turned westward. He passed Wilson’s house and proceeded along the lane, and presently saw several figures approaching Wilson’s place through the vacant lots. These were the duelists returning from the fight; he thought he recognized them, but as he had no desire for white people’s company, he stooped down behind the fence until they were out of his way. Roxy was feeling fine. She said: “Whah was you, child? Warn’t you in it?” “In what?” “In de duel.” “Duel? Has there been a duel?” “’Co’se dey has. De ole Jedge has be’n havin’ a duel wid one o’ dem twins.” “Great Scott!” Then he added to himself: “That’s what made him re-make the will; he thought he might get killed, and it softened him toward me. And that’s what he and Howard were so busy about.… Oh dear, if the twin had only killed him, I should be out of my—” “What is you mumblin’ bout, Chambers? Whah was you? Didn’t you know dey was gwyne to be a duel?” “No, I didn’t. The old man tried to get me to fight one with Count Luigi, but he didn’t succeed, so I reckon he concluded to patch up the family honor himself.” He laughed at the idea, and went rambling on with a detailed account of his talk with the Judge, and how shocked and ashamed the Judge was to find that he had a coward in his family. He glanced up at last, and got a shock himself. Roxana’s bosom was heaving with suppressed passion, and she was glowering down upon him with measureless contempt written in her face. “En you refuse’ to fight a man dat kicked you, ’stid o’ jumpin’ at de chance! En you ain’t got no mo’ feelin’ den to come en tell me, dat fetched sich a po’ low-down ornery rabbit into de worl’! Pah! it make me sick! It’s de nigger in you, dat’s what it is. Thirty-one parts o’ you is white, en on’y one part nigger, en dat po’ little one part is yo’ . Tain’t wuth savin’; tain’t wuth totin’ out on a shovel en throwin’ in de gutter. You has disgraced yo’ birth. What would yo’ pa think o’ you? It’s enough to make him turn in his grave.” soul The last three sentences stung Tom into a fury, and he said to himself that if his father were only alive and in reach of assassination his mother would soon find that he had a very clear notion of the size of his indebtedness to that man, and was willing to pay it up in full, and would do it too, even at risk of his life; but he kept this thought to himself; that was safest in his mother’s present state. “Whatever has come o’ yo’ Essex blood? Dat’s what I can’t understan’. En it ain’t on’y jist Essex blood dat’s in you, not by a long sight—’deed it ain’t! My great-great-great-gran’father en yo’ great-great-great-great-gran’father was Ole Cap’n John Smith, de highest blood dat Ole Virginny ever turned out, en great-great-gran’mother or somers along back dah, was Pocahontas de Injun queen, en her husbun’ was a nigger king outen Africa—en yit here you is, a slinkin’ outen a duel en disgracin’ our whole line like a ornery low-down hound! Yes, it’s de nigger in you!” his She sat down on her candle-box and fell into a reverie. Tom did not disturb her; he sometimes lacked prudence, but it was not in circumstances of this kind, Roxana’s storm went gradually down, but it died hard, and even when it seemed to be quite gone, it would now and then break out in a distant rumble, so to speak, in the form of muttered ejaculations. One of these was, “Ain’t nigger enough in him to show in his finger-nails, en dat takes mighty little—yit dey’s enough to paint his soul.” Presently she muttered. “Yassir, enough to paint a whole thimbleful of ’em.” At last her ramblings ceased altogether, and her countenance began to clear—a welcome sign to Tom, who had learned her moods, and knew she was on the threshold of good-humor, now. He noticed that from time to time she unconsciously carried her finger to the end of her nose. He looked closer and said: “Why, mammy, the end of your nose is skinned. How did that come?” She sent out the sort of whole-hearted peal of laughter which God had vouchsafed in its perfection to none but the happy angels in heaven and the bruised and broken black slave on the earth, and said: “Dad fetch dat duel, I be’n in it myself.” “Gracious! did a bullet do that?” “Yassir, you bet it did!” “Well, I declare! Why, how did that happen?” “Happened dis-away. I ’uz a-sett’n’ here kinder dozin’ in de dark, en goes a gun, right out dah. I skips along out towards t’other end o’ de house to see what’s gwyne on, en stops by de ole winder on de side towards Pudd’nhead Wilson’s house dat ain’t got no sash in it,—but dey ain’t none of ’em got any sashes, fur as dat’s concerned,—en I stood dah in de dark en look out, en dar in de moonlight, right down under me ’uz one o’ de twins a-cussin’—not much, but jist a-cussin’ soft—it ’uz de brown one dat ’uz cussin’, ’ca’se he ’uz hit in de shoulder. En Doctor Claypool he ’uz a-workin’ at him, en Pudd’nhead Wilson he ’uz a-he’pin’, en ole Jedge Driscoll en Pem Howard ’uz a-standin’ out yonder a little piece waitin’ for ’em to git ready agin. En treckly dey squared off en give de word, en went de pistols, en de twin he say, ‘Ouch!’—hit him on de han’ dis time,—en I hear dat same bullet go ag’in, de logs under de winder; en de nex’ time dey shoot, de twin say, ‘Ouch!’ ag’in, en I done it too, ’ca’se de bullet glance’ on his cheek-bone en skip up here en glance on de side o’ de winder en whiz right acrost my face en tuck de hide off’n my nose—why, if I’d ’a’ be’n jist a inch or a inch en a half furder ’t would ’a’ tuck de whole nose en disfiggered me. Here’s de bullet; I hunted her up.” che-bang! bang-bang spat! “Did you stand there all the time?” “Dat’s a question to ask, ain’t it? What else would I do? Does I git a chance to see a duel every day?” “Why, you were right in range! Weren’t you afraid?” The woman gave a sniff of scorn. “’Fraid! De Smith-Pocahontases ain’t ’fraid o’ nothin’, let alone bullets.” “They’ve got pluck enough, I suppose; what they lack is judgment. wouldn’t have stood there.” I “Nobody’s accusin’ you!” “Did anybody else get hurt?” “Yes, we all got hit ’cep’ de blon’ twin en de doctor en de seconds. De Jedge didn’t git hurt, but I hear Pudd’nhead say de bullet snip some o’ his ha’r off.” “’George!” said Tom to himself, “to come so near being out of my trouble, and miss it by an inch. Oh dear, dear, he will live to find me out and sell me to some nigger-trader yet—yes, and he would do it in a minute.” Then he said aloud, in a grave tone— “Mother, we are in an awful fix.” Roxana caught her breath with a spasm, and said— “Chile! What you hit a body so sudden for, like dat? What’s be’n en gone en happen’?” “Well, there’s one thing I didn’t tell you. When I wouldn’t fight, he tore up the will again, and—” Roxana’s face turned a dead white, and she said— “Now you’s —done forever! Dat’s de end. Bofe un us is gwyne to starve to—” done! “Wait and hear me through, can’t you! I reckon that when he resolved to fight, himself, he thought he might get killed and not have a chance to forgive me any more in this life, so he made the will again, and I’ve seen it, and it’s all right. But—” “Oh, thank goodness, den we’s safe ag’in!—safe! en so what did you want to come here en talk sich dreadful—” “Hold , I tell you, and let me finish. The swag I gathered won’t half square me up, and the first thing we know, my creditors—well, you know what’ll happen.” on Roxana dropped her chin, and told her son to leave her alone—she must think this matter out. Presently she said impressively: “You got to go mighty keerful now, I tell you! En here’s what you got to do. He didn’t git killed, en if you gives him de least reason, he’ll bust de will ag’in, en dat’s de time, now you hear me! So—you’s got to show him what you kin do in de nex’ few days. You’s got to be pison good, en let him see it; you got to do everything dat’ll make him b’lieve in you, en you got to sweeten aroun’ ole Aunt Pratt, too,—she’s pow’ful strong wid de Jedge, en de bes’ frien’ you got. Nex’, you’ll go ’long away to Sent Louis, en dat’ll him in yo’ favor. Den you go en make a bargain wid dem people. You tell ’em he ain’t gwyne to live long—en dat’s de fac’, too,—en tell ’em you’ll pay ’em intrust, en big intrust, too,—ten per—what you call it?” las’ keep “Ten per cent. a month?” “Dat’s it. Den you take and sell yo’ truck aroun’, a little at a time, en pay de intrust. How long will it las’?” “I think there’s enough to pay the interest five or six months.” “Den you’s all right. If he don’t die in six months, dat don’t make no diff’rence—Providence’ll provide. You’s gwyne to be safe—if you behaves.” She bent an austere eye on him and added, “En you gwyne to behave—does you know dat?” is He laughed and said he was going to try, anyway. She did not unbend. She said gravely: “Tryin’ ain’t de thing. You’s gwyne to it. You ain’t gwyne to steal a pin—’ca’se it ain’t safe no mo’; en you ain’t gwyne into no bad comp’ny—not even once, you understand; en you ain’t gwyne to drink a drop—nary single drop; en you ain’t gwyne to gamble one single gamble—not one! Dis ain’t what you’s gwyne to to do, it’s what you’s gwyne to . En I’ll tell you how I knows it. Dis is how. I’s gwyne to foller along to Sent Louis my own self; en you’s gwyne to come to me every day o’ yo’ life, en I’ll look you over; en if you fails in one single one o’ dem things—jist —I take my oath I’ll come straight down to dis town en tell de Jedge you’s a nigger en a slave—en it!” She paused to let her words sink home. Then she added, “Chambers, does you b’lieve me when I says dat?” do try do one prove Tom was sober enough now. There was no levity in his voice when he answered: “Yes, mother, I know, now, that I am reformed—and permanently. Permanently—and beyond the reach of any human temptation.” “Den g’ long home en begin!” About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Mark Twain (2004). The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/102/pg102-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

Roxana Insists Upon Reform

Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions — Volume I by Charles Mackay, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . RELICS RELICS. A fouth o' auld knick-knackets, Rusty airn caps and jinglin' jackets, Wad haud the Lothians three, in tackets, A towmond guid; An' parritch pats, and auld saut backets, Afore the flood. Burns. The love for relics is one which will never be eradicated as long as feeling and affection are denizens of the heart. It is a love which is most easily excited in the best and kindliest natures, and which few are callous enough to scoff at. Who would not treasure the lock of hair that once adorned the brow of the faithful wife, now cold in death, or that hung down the neck of a beloved infant, now sleeping under the sward? Not one. They are home-relics, whose sacred worth is intelligible to all; spoils rescued from the devouring grave, which, to the affectionate, are beyond all price. How dear to a forlorn survivor the book over whose pages he has pored with one departed! How much greater its value, if that hand, now cold, had written a thought, an opinion, or a name, upon the leaf! Besides these sweet, domestic relics, there are others, which no one can condemn; relics sanctified by that admiration of greatness and goodness which is akin to love; such as the copy of Montaigne's Florio, with the name of Shakspeare upon the leaf, written by the poet of all time himself; the chair preserved at Antwerp, in which Rubens sat when he painted the immortal "Descent from the Cross;" or the telescope, preserved in the Museum of Florence, which aided Galileo in his sublime discoveries. Who would not look with veneration upon the undoubted arrow of William Tell—the swords of Wallace or of Hampden—or the Bible whose leaves were turned by some stern old father of the faith? Thus the principle of reliquism is hallowed and enshrined by love. But from this germ of purity how numerous the progeny of errors and superstitions! Men, in their admiration of the great, and of all that appertained to them, have forgotten that goodness is a component part of true greatness, and have made fools of themselves for the jaw-bone of a saint, the toe-nail of an apostle, the handkerchief a king blew his nose in, or the rope that hanged a criminal. Desiring to rescue some slight token from the graves of their predecessors, they have confounded the famous and the infamous, the renowned and the notorious. Great saints, great sinners; great philosophers, great quacks; great conquerors, great murderers; great ministers, great thieves; each and all have had their admirers, ready to ransack earth, from the equator to either pole, to find a relic of them. The reliquism of modern times dates its origin from the centuries immediately preceding the Crusades. The first pilgrims to the Holy Land brought back to Europe thousands of apocryphal relics, in the purchase of which they had expended all their store. The greatest favourite was the wood of the true cross, which, like the oil of the widow, never diminished. It is generally asserted, in the traditions of the Romish Church, that the Empress Helen, the mother of Constantine the Great, first discovered the veritable "true cross" in her pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The Emperor Theodosius made a present of the greater part of it to St. Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, by whom it was studded with precious stones, and deposited in the principal church of that city. It was carried away by the Huns, by whom it was burnt, after they had extracted the valuable jewels it contained. Fragments, purporting to have been cut from it were, in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, to be found in almost every church in Europe, and would, if collected together in one place, have been almost sufficient to have built a cathedral. Happy was the sinner who could get a sight of one of them; happier he who possessed one! To obtain them the greatest dangers were cheerfully braved. They were thought to preserve from all evils, and to cure the most inveterate diseases. Annual pilgrimages were made to the shrines that contained them, and considerable revenues collected from the devotees. Next in renown were those precious relics, the tears of the Saviour. By whom and in what manner they were preserved, the pilgrims did not often inquire. Their genuineness was vouched by the Christians of the Holy Land, and that was sufficient. Tears of the Virgin Mary, and tears of St. Peter, were also to be had, carefully enclosed in little caskets, which the pious might wear in their bosoms. After the tears the next most precious relics were drops of the blood of Jesus and the martyrs. Hair and toe-nails were also in great repute, and were sold at extravagant prices. Thousands of pilgrims annually visited Palestine in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, to purchase pretended relics for the home market. The majority of them had no other means of subsistence than the profits thus obtained. Many a nail, cut from the filthy foot of some unscrupulous ecclesiastic, was sold at a diamond's price, within six months after its severance from its parent toe, upon the supposition that it had once belonged to a saint. Peter's toes were uncommonly prolific, for there were nails enough in Europe, at the time of the Council of Clermont, to have filled a sack, all of which were devoutly believed to have grown on the sacred feet of that great apostle. Some of them are still shown in the cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle. The pious come from a distance of a hundred German miles to feast their eyes upon them. At Port Royal, in Paris, is kept with great care a thorn, which the priests of that seminary assert to be one of the identical thorns that bound the holy head of the Son of God. How it came there, and by whom it was preserved, has never been explained. This is the famous thorn, celebrated in the long dissensions of the Jansenists and the Molenists, and which worked the miraculous cure upon Mademoiselle Perrier: by merely kissing it, she was cured of a disease of the eyes of long standing. [Voltaire, Siecle de Louis XIV.] What traveller is unacquainted with the Santa Scala, or Holy Stairs, at Rome? They were brought from Jerusalem along with the true cross, by the Empress Helen, and were taken from the house which, according to popular tradition, was inhabited by Pontius Pilate. They are said to be the steps which Jesus ascended and descended when brought into the presence of the Roman governor. They are held in the greatest veneration at Rome: it is sacrilegious to walk upon them. The knees of the faithful must alone touch them in ascending or descending, and that only after they have reverentially kissed them. Europe still swarms with these religious relics. There is hardly a Roman Catholic church in Spain, Portugal, Italy, France, or Belgium, without one or more of them. Even the poorly endowed churches of the villages boast the possession of miraculous thigh-bones of the innumerable saints of the Romish calendar. Aix-la-Chapelle is proud of the veritable chasse, or thigh-bone of Charlemagne, which cures lameness. Halle has a thighbone of the Virgin Mary; Spain has seven or eight, all said to be undoubted relics. Brussels at one time preserved, and perhaps does now, the teeth of St. Gudule. The faithful, who suffered from the tooth-ache, had only to pray, look at them, and be cured. Some of these holy bones have been buried in different parts of the Continent. After a certain lapse of time, water is said to ooze from them, which soon forms a spring, and cures all the diseases of the faithful. At a church in Halle, there is a famous thigh-bone, which cures barrenness in women. Of this bone, which is under the special superintendence of the Virgin, a pleasant story is related by the incredulous. There resided at Ghent a couple who were blessed with all the riches of this world, but whose happiness was sore troubled by the want of children. Great was the grief of the lady, who was both beautiful and loving, and many her lamentations to her husband. The latter, annoyed by her unceasing sorrow, advised her to make a pilgrimage to the celebrated chasse of the Virgin. She went, was absent a week, and returned with a face all radiant with joy and pleasure. Her lamentations ceased, and, in nine months afterwards, she brought forth a son. But, oh! the instability of human joys! The babe, so long desired and so greatly beloved, survived but a few months. Two years passed over the heads of the disconsolate couple, and no second child appeared to cheer their fire-side. A third year passed away with the same result, and the lady once more began to weep. "Cheer up, my love," said her husband, "and go to the holy chasse, at Halle; perhaps the Virgin will again listen to your prayers." The lady took courage at the thought, wiped away her tears, and proceeded on the morrow towards Halle. She was absent only three days, and returned home sad, weeping, and sorrow-stricken. "What is the matter?" said her husband; "is the Virgin unwilling to listen to your prayers?" "The Virgin is willing enough," said the disconsolate wife, "and will do what she can for me; but I shall never have any more children! The priest! the priest!—He is gone from Halle, and nobody knows where to find him!" It is curious to remark the avidity manifested in all ages, and in all countries, to obtain possession of some relic of any persons who have been much spoken of, even for their crimes. When William Longbeard, leader of the populace of London, in the reign of Richard I, was hanged at Smithfield, the utmost eagerness was shown to obtain a hair from his head, or a shred from his garments. Women came from Essex, Kent, Suffolk, Sussex, and all the surrounding counties, to collect the mould at the foot of his gallows. A hair of his beard was believed to preserve from evil spirits, and a piece of his clothes from aches and pains. In more modern days, a similar avidity was shown to obtain a relic of the luckless Masaniello, the fisherman of Naples. After he had been raised by mob favour to a height of power more despotic than monarch ever wielded, he was shot by the same populace in the streets, as if he had been a mad dog. His headless trunk was dragged through the mire for several hours, and cast at night-fall into the city ditch. On the morrow the tide of popular feeling turned once more in his favour. His corpse was sought, arrayed in royal robes, and buried magnificently by torch-light in the cathedral, ten thousand armed men, and as many mourners, attending at the ceremony. The fisherman's dress which he had worn was rent into shreds by the crowd, to be preserved as relics; the door of his hut was pulled off its hinges by a mob of women, and eagerly cut up into small pieces, to be made into images, caskets, and other mementos. The scanty furniture of his poor abode became of more value than the adornments of a palace; the ground he had walked upon was considered sacred, and, being collected in small phials, was sold at its weight in gold, and worn in the bosom as an amulet. Almost as extraordinary was the frenzy manifested by the populace of Paris on the execution of the atrocious Marchioness de Brinvilliers. There were grounds for the popular wonder in the case of Masaniello, who was unstained with personal crimes. But the career of Madame de Brinvilliers was of a nature to excite no other feelings than disgust and abhorrence. She was convicted of poisoning several persons, and sentenced to be burned in the Place de Greve, and to have her ashes scattered to the winds. On the day of her execution, the populace, struck by her gracefulness and beauty, inveighed against the severity of her sentence. Their pity soon increased to admiration, and, ere evening, she was considered a saint. Her ashes were industriously collected, even the charred wood, which had aided to consume her, was eagerly purchased by the populace. Her ashes were thought to preserve from witchcraft. In England many persons have a singular love for the relics of thieves and murderers, or other great criminals. The ropes with which they have been hanged are very often bought by collectors at a guinea per foot. Great sums were paid for the rope which hanged Dr. Dodd, and for those more recently which did justice upon Mr. Fauntleroy for forgery, and on Thurtell for the murder of Mr. Weare. The murder of Maria Marten, by Corder, in the year 1828, excited the greatest interest all over the country. People came from Wales and Scotland, and even from Ireland, to visit the barn where the body of the murdered woman was buried. Every one of them was anxious to carry away some memorial of his visit. Pieces of the barn-door, tiles from the roof, and, above all, the clothes of the poor victim, were eagerly sought after. A lock of her hair was sold for two guineas, and the purchaser thought himself fortunate in getting it so cheaply. So great was the concourse of people to visit the house in Camberwell Lane, where Greenacre murdered Hannah Brown, in 1837, that it was found necessary to station a strong detachment of police on the spot. The crowd was so eager to obtain a relic of the house of this atrocious criminal, that the police were obliged to employ force to prevent the tables and chairs, and even the doors, from being carried away. In earlier times, a singular superstition was attached to the hand of a criminal who had suffered execution. It was thought that by merely rubbing the dead hand on the body, the patient afflicted with the king's evil would be instantly cured. The executioner at Newgate, sixty or seventy years ago, derived no inconsiderable revenue from this foolish practice. The possession of the hand was thought to be of still greater efficacy in the cure of diseases and the prevention of misfortunes. In the time of Charles II as much as ten guineas was thought a small price for one of these disgusting relics. When the maniac, Thom, or Courtenay, was shot, in the spring of 1838, the relic-hunters were immediately in motion to obtain a memento of so extraordinary an individual. His long, black beard and hair, which were cut off by the surgeons, fell into the hands of his disciples, by whom they are treasured with the utmost reverence. A lock of his hair commands a great price, not only amongst his followers, but among the more wealthy inhabitants of Canterbury and its neighbourhood. The tree against which he fell when he was shot, has already been stripped of all its bark by the curious, and bids fair to be entirely demolished within a twelvemonth. A letter, with his signature to it, is paid for in gold coins; and his favourite horse promises to become as celebrated as his master. Parties of ladies and gentlemen have come to Boughton from a distance of a hundred and fifty miles, to visit the scene of that fatal affray, and stroke on the back the horse of the "mad Knight of Malta." If a strict watch had not been kept over his grave for months, the body would have been disinterred, and the bones carried away as memorials. Among the Chinese no relics are more valued than the boots which have been worn by an upright magistrate. In Davis's interesting Description of the Empire of China, we are informed, that whenever a judge of unusual integrity resigns his situation, the people all congregate to do him honour. If he leaves the city where he has presided, the crowd accompany him from his residence to the gates, where his boots are drawn off with great ceremony, to be preserved in the hall of justice. Their place is immediately supplied by a new pair, which, in their turn, are drawn off to make room for others before he has worn them five minutes, it being considered sufficient to consecrate them that he should have merely drawn them on. Among the most favourite relics of modern times, in Europe, are Shakspeare's mulberry-tree, Napoleon's willow, and the table at Waterloo, on which the Emperor wrote his despatches. Snuffboxes of Shakspeare's mulberry-tree, are comparatively rare, though there are doubtless more of them in the market than were ever made of the wood planted by the great bard. Many a piece of alien wood passes under this name. The same may be said of Napoleon's table at Waterloo. The original has long since been destroyed, and a round dozen of counterfeits along with it. Many preserve the simple stick of wood; others have them cut into brooches and every variety of ornament; but by far the greater number prefer them as snuff-boxes. In France they are made into bonbonnieres, and are much esteemed by the many thousands whose cheeks still glow, and whose eyes still sparkle at the name of Napoleon. Bullets from the field of Waterloo, and buttons from the coats of the soldiers who fell in the fight, are still favourite relics in Europe. But the same ingenuity which found new tables after the old one was destroyed, has cast new bullets for the curious. Many a one who thinks himself the possessor of a bullet which aided in giving peace to the world on that memorable day, is the owner of a dump, first extracted from the ore a dozen years afterwards. Let all lovers of genuine relics look well to their money before they part with it to the ciceroni that swarm in the village of Waterloo. Few travellers stop at the lonely isle of St. Helena, without cutting a twig from the willow that droops over the grave of Napoleon. Many of them have since been planted in different parts of Europe, and have grown into trees as large as their parent. Relic-hunters, who are unable to procure a twig of the original, are content with one from these. Several of them are growing in the neighbourhood of London, more prized by their cultivators than any other tree in their gardens. But in relics, as in everything else, there is the use and the abuse. The undoubted relics of great men, or great events, will always possess attractions for the thinking and refined. There are few who would not join with Cowley in the extravagant wish introduced in his lines "written while sitting in a chair made of the remains of the ship in which Sir Francis Drake sailed round the world:"— And I myself, who now love quiet too, Almost as much as any chair can do, Would yet a journey take An old wheel of that chariot to see, Which Phaeton so rashly brake. 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. Charles Mackay (1996). Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions — Volume I. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/636/pg636-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 .

The love for relics is one which will never be eradicated

Tea in the Schoolroom

The Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . TUPPENCE RECEIVES A PROPOSAL CHAPTER XV. TUPPENCE RECEIVES A PROPOSAL Julius sprang up. “What?” “I thought you were aware of that.” “When did she leave?” “Let me see. To-day is Monday, is it not? It must have been last Wednesday—why, surely—yes, it was the same evening that you—er—fell out of my tree.” “That evening? Before, or after?” “Let me see—oh yes, afterwards. A very urgent message arrived from Mrs. Vandemeyer. The young lady and the nurse who was in charge of her left by the night train.” Julius sank back again into his chair. “Nurse Edith—left with a patient—I remember,” he muttered. “My God, to have been so near!” Dr. Hall looked bewildered. “I don’t understand. Is the young lady not with her aunt, after all?” Tuppence shook her head. She was about to speak when a warning glance from Sir James made her hold her tongue. The lawyer rose. “I’m much obliged to you, Hall. We’re very grateful for all you’ve told us. I’m afraid we’re now in the position of having to track Miss Vandemeyer anew. What about the nurse who accompanied her; I suppose you don’t know where she is?” The doctor shook his head. “We’ve not heard from her, as it happens. I understood she was to remain with Miss Vandemeyer for a while. But what can have happened? Surely the girl has not been kidnapped.” “That remains to be seen,” said Sir James gravely. The other hesitated. “You do not think I ought to go to the police?” “No, no. In all probability the young lady is with other relations.” The doctor was not completely satisfied, but he saw that Sir James was determined to say no more, and realized that to try and extract more information from the famous K.C. would be mere waste of labour. Accordingly, he wished them goodbye, and they left the hotel. For a few minutes they stood by the car talking. “How maddening,” cried Tuppence. “To think that Julius must have been actually under the same roof with her for a few hours.” “I was a darned idiot,” muttered Julius gloomily. “You couldn’t know,” Tuppence consoled him. “Could he?” She appealed to Sir James. “I should advise you not to worry,” said the latter kindly. “No use crying over spilt milk, you know.” “The great thing is what to do next,” added Tuppence the practical. Sir James shrugged his shoulders. “You might advertise for the nurse who accompanied the girl. That is the only course I can suggest, and I must confess I do not hope for much result. Otherwise there is nothing to be done.” “Nothing?” said Tuppence blankly. “And—Tommy?” “We must hope for the best,” said Sir James. “Oh yes, we must go on hoping.” But over her downcast head his eyes met Julius’s, and almost imperceptibly he shook his head. Julius understood. The lawyer considered the case hopeless. The young American’s face grew grave. Sir James took Tuppence’s hand. “You must let me know if anything further comes to light. Letters will always be forwarded.” Tuppence stared at him blankly. “You are going away?” “I told you. Don’t you remember? To Scotland.” “Yes, but I thought——” The girl hesitated. Sir James shrugged his shoulders. “My dear young lady, I can do nothing more, I fear. Our clues have all ended in thin air. You can take my word for it that there is nothing more to be done. If anything should arise, I shall be glad to advise you in any way I can.” His words gave Tuppence an extraordinarily desolate feeling. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Anyway, thank you very much for trying to help us. Good-bye.” Julius was bending over the car. A momentary pity came into Sir James’s keen eyes, as he gazed into the girl’s downcast face. “Don’t be too disconsolate, Miss Tuppence,” he said in a low voice. “Remember, holiday-time isn’t always all playtime. One sometimes manages to put in some work as well.” Something in his tone made Tuppence glance up sharply. He shook his head with a smile. “No, I shan’t say any more. Great mistake to say too much. Remember that. Never tell all you know—not even to the person you know best. Understand? Good-bye.” He strode away. Tuppence stared after him. She was beginning to understand Sir James’s methods. Once before he had thrown her a hint in the same careless fashion. Was this a hint? What exactly lay behind those last brief words? Did he mean that, after all, he had not abandoned the case; that, secretly, he would be working on it still while—— Her meditations were interrupted by Julius, who adjured her to “get right in.” “You’re looking kind of thoughtful,” he remarked as they started off. “Did the old guy say anything more?” Tuppence opened her mouth impulsively, and then shut it again. Sir James’s words sounded in her ears: “Never tell all you know—not even to the person you know best.” And like a flash there came into her mind another memory. Julius before the safe in the flat, her own question and the pause before his reply, “Nothing.” Was there really nothing? Or had he found something he wished to keep to himself? If he could make a reservation, so could she. “Nothing particular,” she replied. She felt rather than saw Julius throw a sideways glance at her. “Say, shall we go for a spin in the park?” “If you like.” For a while they ran on under the trees in silence. It was a beautiful day. The keen rush through the air brought a new exhilaration to Tuppence. “Say, Miss Tuppence, do you think I’m ever going to find Jane?” Julius spoke in a discouraged voice. The mood was so alien to him that Tuppence turned and stared at him in surprise. He nodded. “That’s so. I’m getting down and out over the business. Sir James to-day hadn’t got any hope at all, I could see that. I don’t like him—we don’t gee together somehow—but he’s pretty cute, and I guess he wouldn’t quit if there was any chance of success—now, would he?” Tuppence felt rather uncomfortable, but clinging to her belief that Julius also had withheld something from her, she remained firm. “He suggested advertising for the nurse,” she reminded him. “Yes, with a ‘forlorn hope’ flavour to his voice! No—I’m about fed up. I’ve half a mind to go back to the States right away.” “Oh no!” cried Tuppence. “We’ve got to find Tommy.” “I sure forgot Beresford,” said Julius contritely. “That’s so. We must find him. But after—well, I’ve been day-dreaming ever since I started on this trip—and these dreams are rotten poor business. I’m quit of them. Say, Miss Tuppence, there’s something I’d like to ask you.” “Yes?” “You and Beresford. What about it?” “I don’t understand you,” replied Tuppence with dignity, adding rather inconsequently: “And, anyway, you’re wrong!” “Not got a sort of kindly feeling for one another?” “Certainly not,” said Tuppence with warmth. “Tommy and I are friends—nothing more.” “I guess every pair of lovers has said that sometime or another,” observed Julius. “Nonsense!” snapped Tuppence. “Do I look the sort of girl that’s always falling in love with every man she meets?” “You do not. You look the sort of girl that’s mighty often getting fallen in love with!” “Oh!” said Tuppence, rather taken aback. “That’s a compliment, I suppose?” “Sure. Now let’s get down to this. Supposing we never find Beresford and—and——” “All right—say it! I can face facts. Supposing he’s—dead! Well?” “And all this business fiddles out. What are you going to do?” “I don’t know,” said Tuppence forlornly. “You’ll be darned lonesome, you poor kid.” “I shall be all right,” snapped Tuppence with her usual resentment of any kind of pity. “What about marriage?” inquired Julius. “Got any views on the subject?” “I intend to marry, of course,” replied Tuppence. “That is, if”—she paused, knew a momentary longing to draw back, and then stuck to her guns bravely—“I can find some one rich enough to make it worth my while. That’s frank, isn’t it? I dare say you despise me for it.” “I never despise business instinct,” said Julius. “What particular figure have you in mind?” “Figure?” asked Tuppence, puzzled. “Do you mean tall or short?” “No. Sum—income.” “Oh, I—I haven’t quite worked that out.” “What about me?” “You?” “Sure thing.” “Oh, I couldn’t!” “Why not?” “I tell you I couldn’t.” “Again, why not?” “It would seem so unfair.” “I don’t see anything unfair about it. I call your bluff, that’s all. I admire you immensely, Miss Tuppence, more than any girl I’ve ever met. You’re so darned plucky. I’d just love to give you a real, rattling good time. Say the word, and we’ll run round right away to some high-class jeweller, and fix up the ring business.” “I can’t,” gasped Tuppence. “Because of Beresford?” “No, no, no!” “Well then?” Tuppence merely continued to shake her head violently. “You can’t reasonably expect more dollars than I’ve got.” “Oh, it isn’t that,” gasped Tuppence with an almost hysterical laugh. “But thanking you very much, and all that, I think I’d better say no.” “I’d be obliged if you’d do me the favour to think it over until to-morrow.” “It’s no use.” “Still, I guess we’ll leave it like that.” “Very well,” said Tuppence meekly. Neither of them spoke again until they reached the Ritz. Tuppence went upstairs to her room. She felt morally battered to the ground after her conflict with Julius’s vigorous personality. Sitting down in front of the glass, she stared at her own reflection for some minutes. “Fool,” murmured Tuppence at length, making a grimace. “Little fool. Everything you want—everything you’ve ever hoped for, and you go and bleat out ‘no’ like an idiotic little sheep. It’s your one chance. Why don’t you take it? Grab it? Snatch at it? What more do you want?” As if in answer to her own question, her eyes fell on a small snapshot of Tommy that stood on her dressing-table in a shabby frame. For a moment she struggled for self-control, and then abandoning all presence, she held it to her lips and burst into a fit of sobbing. “Oh, Tommy, Tommy,” she cried, “I do love you so—and I may never see you again....” At the end of five minutes Tuppence sat up, blew her nose, and pushed back her hair. “That’s that,” she observed sternly. “Let’s look facts in the face. I seem to have fallen in love—with an idiot of a boy who probably doesn’t care two straws about me.” Here she paused. “Anyway,” she resumed, as though arguing with an unseen opponent, “I don’t know that he does. He’d never have dared to say so. I’ve always jumped on sentiment—and here I am being more sentimental than anybody. What idiots girls are! I’ve always thought so. I suppose I shall sleep with his photograph under my pillow, and dream about him all night. It’s dreadful to feel you’ve been false to your principles.” Tuppence shook her head sadly, as she reviewed her backsliding. “I don’t know what to say to Julius, I’m sure. Oh, what a fool I feel! I’ll have to say something—he’s so American and thorough, he’ll insist upon having a reason. I wonder if he did find anything in that safe——” Tuppence’s meditations went off on another tack. She reviewed the events of last night carefully and persistently. Somehow, they seemed bound up with Sir James’s enigmatical words.... Suddenly she gave a great start—the colour faded out of her face. Her eyes, fascinated, gazed in front of her, the pupils dilated. “Impossible,” she murmured. “Impossible! I must be going mad even to think of such a thing....” Monstrous—yet it explained everything.... After a moment’s reflection she sat down and wrote a note, weighing each word as she did so. Finally she nodded her head as though satisfied, and slipped it into an envelope which she addressed to Julius. She went down the passage to his sitting-room and knocked at the door. As she had expected, the room was empty. She left the note on the table. A small page-boy was waiting outside her own door when she returned to it. “Telegram for you, miss.” Tuppence took it from the salver, and tore it open carelessly. Then she gave a cry. The telegram was from Tommy! 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. Agatha Christie (1998). The Secret Adversary. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1155/pg1155-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.

TUPPENCE RECEIVES A PROPOSAL

The Murder on the Links by Agatha Christie, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Mrs. Renauld’s Story V. Mrs. Renauld’s Story We found M. Hautet awaiting us in the hall, and we all proceeded upstairs together, Françoise marching ahead to show us the way. Poirot went up in a zigzag fashion which puzzled me, until he whispered with a grimace: “No wonder the servants heard M. Renauld mounting the stairs; not a board of them but creaks fit to wake the dead!” At the head of the staircase, a small passage branched off. “The servants’ quarters,” explained Bex. We continued along a corridor, and Françoise tapped on the last door to the right of it. A faint voice bade us enter, and we passed into a large sunny apartment looking out towards the sea, which showed blue and sparkling about a quarter of a mile distant. On a couch, propped up with cushions, and attended by Dr. Durand, lay a tall, striking-looking woman. She was middle-aged, and her once dark hair was now almost entirely silvered, but the intense vitality and strength of her personality would have made itself felt anywhere. You knew at once that you were in the presence of what the French call “une maitresse femme.” She greeted us with a dignified inclination of the head. “Pray be seated, monsieurs.” We took chairs, and the magistrate’s clerk established himself at a round table. “I hope, madame,” began M. Hautet, “that it will not distress you unduly to relate to us what occurred last night?” “Not at all, monsieur. I know the value of time, if these scoundrelly assassins are to be caught and punished.” “Very well, madame. It will fatigue you less, I think, if I ask you questions and you confine yourself to answering them. At what time did you go to bed last night?” “At half-past nine, monsieur. I was tired.” “And your husband?” “About an hour later, I fancy.” “Did he seem disturbed—upset in any way?” “No, not more than usual.” “What happened then?” “We slept. I was awakened by a hand being pressed over my mouth. I tried to scream out, but the hand prevented me. There were two men in the room. They were both masked.” “Can you describe them at all, madame?” “One was very tall, and had a long black beard, the other was short and stout. His beard was reddish. They both wore hats pulled down over their eyes.” “H’m,” said the magistrate thoughtfully, “too much beard, I fear.” “You mean they were false?” “Yes, madame. But continue your story.” “It was the short man who was holding me. He forced a gag into my mouth, and then bound me with rope hand and foot. The other man was standing over my husband. He had caught up my little dagger paper-knife from the dressing-table and was holding it with the point just over his heart. When the short man had finished with me, he joined the other, and they forced my husband to get up and accompany them into the dressing-room next door. I was nearly fainting with terror, nevertheless I listened desperately. “They were speaking in too low a tone for me to hear what they said. But I recognized the language, a bastard Spanish such as is spoken in some parts of South America. They seemed to be demanding something from my husband, and presently they grew angry, and their voices rose a little. I think the tall man was speaking. ‘You know what we want!’ he said. ‘The secret! Where is it?’ I do not know what my husband answered, but the other replied fiercely: ‘You lie! We know you have it. Where are your keys?’ “Then I heard sounds of drawers being pulled out. There is a safe on the wall of my husband’s dressing-room in which he always keeps a fairly large amount of ready money. Léonie tells me this has been rifled and the money taken, but evidently what they were looking for was not there, for presently I heard the tall man, with an oath, command my husband to dress himself. Soon after that, I think some noise in the house must have disturbed them, for they hustled my husband out into my room only half dressed.” “Pardon,” interrupted Poirot, “but is there then no other egress from the dressing-room?” “No, monsieur, there is only the communicating door into my room. They hurried my husband through, the short man in front, and the tall man behind him with the dagger still in his hand. Paul tried to break away to come to me. I saw his agonized eyes. He turned to his captors. ‘I must speak to her,’ he said. Then, coming to the side of the bed, ‘It is all right, Eloise,’ he said. ‘Do not be afraid. I shall return before morning.’ But, although he tried to make his voice confident, I could see the terror in his eyes. Then they hustled him out of the door, the tall man saying: ‘One sound—and you are a dead man, remember.’ “After that,” continued Mrs. Renauld, “I must have fainted. The next thing I recollect is Léonie rubbing my wrists, and giving me brandy.” “Madame Renauld,” said the magistrate, “had you any idea what it was for which the assassins were searching?” “None whatever, monsieur.” “Had you any knowledge that your husband feared something?” “Yes. I had seen the change in him.” “How long ago was that?” Mrs. Renauld reflected. “Ten days perhaps.” “Not longer?” “Possibly. I only noticed it then.” “Did you question your husband at all as to the cause?” “Once. He put me off evasively. Nevertheless, I was convinced that he was suffering some terrible anxiety. However, since he evidently wished to conceal the fact from me, I tried to pretend that I had noticed nothing.” “Were you aware that he had called in the services of a detective?” “A detective?” exclaimed Mrs. Renauld, very much surprised. “Yes, this gentleman—M. Hercule Poirot.” Poirot bowed. “He arrived today in response to a summons from your husband.” And taking the letter written by M. Renauld from his pocket he handed it to the lady. She read it with apparently genuine astonishment. “I had no idea of this. Evidently he was fully cognizant of the danger.” “Now, madame, I will beg of you to be frank with me. Is there any incident in your husband’s past life in South America which might throw light on his murder?” Mrs. Renauld reflected deeply, but at last shook her head. “I can think of none. Certainly my husband had many enemies, people he had got the better of in some way or another, but I can think of no one distinctive case. I do not say there is no such incident—only that I am not aware of it.” The examining magistrate stroked his beard disconsolately. “And you can fix the time of this outrage?” “Yes, I distinctly remember hearing the clock on the mantelpiece strike two.” She nodded towards an eight-day travelling clock in a leather case which stood in the centre of the chimney-piece. Poirot rose from his seat, scrutinized the clock carefully, and nodded, satisfied. “And here too,” exclaimed M. Bex, “is a wrist watch, knocked off the dressing-table by the assassins, without doubt, and smashed to atoms. Little did they know it would testify against them.” Gently he picked away the fragments of broken glass. Suddenly his face changed to one of utter stupefaction. “Mon Dieu!” he ejaculated. “What is it?” “The hands of the watch point to seven o’clock!” “What?” cried the examining magistrate, astonished. But Poirot, deft as ever, took the broken trinket from the startled commissary, and held it to his ear. Then he smiled. “The glass is broken, yes, but the watch itself is still going.” The explanation of the mystery was greeted with a relieved smile. But the magistrate bethought him of another point. “But surely it is not seven o’clock now?” “No,” said Poirot gently, “it is a few minutes after five. Possibly the watch gains, is that so, madame?” Mrs. Renauld was frowning perplexedly. “It does gain,” she admitted, “but I’ve never known it to gain quite so much as that.” With a gesture of impatience, the magistrate left the matter of the watch and proceeded with his interrogatory. “Madame, the front door was found ajar. It seems almost certain that the murderers entered that way, yet it has not been forced at all. Can you suggest any explanation?” “Possibly my husband went out for a stroll the last thing, and forgot to latch it when he came in.” “Is that a likely thing to happen?” “Very. My husband was the most absent-minded of men.” There was a slight frown on her brow as she spoke, as though this trait in the dead man’s character had at times vexed her. “There is one inference I think we might draw,” remarked the commissary suddenly. “Since the men insisted on M. Renauld dressing himself, it looks as though the place they were taking him to, the place where ‘the secret’ was concealed, lay some distance away.” The magistrate nodded. “Yes, far, and yet not too far, since he spoke of being back by morning.” “What times does the last train leave the station of Merlinville?” asked Poirot. “Eleven-fifty one way, and 12:17 the other, but it is more probable that they had a motor waiting.” “Of course,” agreed Poirot, looking somewhat crestfallen. “Indeed, that might be one way of tracing them,” continued the magistrate, brightening. “A motor containing two foreigners is quite likely to have been noticed. That is an excellent point, M. Bex.” He smiled to himself, and then, becoming grave once more, he said to Mrs. Renauld: “There is another question. Do you know any one of the name of ‘Duveen’?” “Duveen?” Mrs. Renauld repeated, thoughtfully. “No, for the moment, I cannot say I do.” “You have never heard your husband mention any one of that name?” “Never.” “Do you know any one whose Christian name is Bella?” He watched Mrs. Renauld narrowly as he spoke, seeking to surprise any signs of anger or consciousness, but she merely shook her head in quite a natural manner. He continued his questions. “Are you aware that your husband had a visitor last night?” Now he saw the red mount slightly in her cheeks, but she replied composedly. “No, who was that?” “A lady.” “Indeed?” But for the moment the magistrate was content to say no more. It seemed unlikely that Madame Daubreuil had any connection with the crime, and he was anxious not to upset Mrs. Renauld more than necessary. He made a sign to the commissary, and the latter replied with a nod. Then rising, he went across the room, and returned with the glass jar we had seen in the outhouse in his hand. From this, he took the dagger. “Madame,” he said gently, “do you recognize this?” She gave a little cry. “Yes, that is my little dagger.” Then—she saw the stained point, and she drew back, her eyes widening with horror. “Is that—blood?” “Yes, madame. Your husband was killed with this weapon.” He removed it hastily from sight. “You are quite sure about it’s being the one that was on your dressing-table last night?” “Oh, yes. It was a present from my son. He was in the Air Force during the War. He gave his age as older than it was.” There was a touch of the proud mother in her voice. “This was made from a streamline aeroplane wire, and was given to me by my son as a souvenir of the War.” “I see, madame. That brings us to another matter. Your son, where is he now? It is necessary that he should be telegraphed to without delay.” “Jack? He is on his way to Buenos Ayres.” “What?” “Yes. My husband telegraphed to him yesterday. He had sent him on business to Paris, but yesterday he discovered that it would be necessary for him to proceed without delay to South America. There was a boat leaving Cherbourg for Buenos Ayres last night, and he wired him to catch it.” “Have you any knowledge of what the business in Buenos Ayres was?” “No, monsieur, I know nothing of its nature, but Buenos Ayres is not my son’s final destination. He was going overland from there to Santiago.” And, in unison, the magistrate and the commissary exclaimed: “Santiago! Again Santiago!” It was at this moment, when we were all stunned by the mention of that word, that Poirot approached Mrs. Renauld. He had been standing by the window like a man lost in a dream, and I doubt if he had fully taken in what had passed. He paused by the lady’s side with a bow. “Pardon, madame, but may I examine your wrists.” Though slightly surprised at the request, Mrs. Renauld held them out to him. Round each of them was a cruel red mark where the cords had bitten into the flesh. As he examined them, I fancied that a momentary flicker of excitement I had seen in his eyes disappeared. “They must cause you great pain,” he said, and once more he looked puzzled. But the magistrate was speaking excitedly. “Young M. Renauld must be communicated with at once by wireless. It is vital that we should know anything he can tell us about this trip to Santiago.” He hesitated. “I hoped he might have been near at hand, so that we could have saved you pain, madame.” He paused. “You mean,” she said in a low voice, “the identification of my husband’s body?” The magistrate bowed his head. “I am a strong woman, monsieur. I can bear all that is required of me. I am ready—now.” “Oh, tomorrow will be quite soon enough, I assure you—” “I prefer to get it over,” she said in a low tone, a spasm of pain crossing her face. “If you will be so good as to give me your arm, Doctor?” The doctor hastened forward, a cloak was thrown over Mrs. Renauld’s shoulders, and a slow procession went down the stairs. M. Bex hurried on ahead to open the door of the shed. In a minute or two Mrs. Renauld appeared in the doorway. She was very pale, but resolute. Behind her, M. Hautet was clacking commiserations and apologies like an animated hen. She raised her hand to her face. “A moment, messieurs, while I steel myself.” She took her hand away and looked down at the dead man. Then the marvellous self-control which had upheld her so far deserted her. “Paul!” she cried. “Husband! Oh, God!” And pitching forward she fell unconscious to the ground. Instantly Poirot was beside her, he raised the lid of her eye, felt her pulse. When he had satisfied himself that she had really fainted, he drew aside. He caught me by the arm. “I am an imbecile, my friend! If ever there was love and grief in a woman’s voice, I heard it then. My little idea was all wrong. Eh bien! I must start again!” 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. Agatha Christie (2019). The Murder on the Links. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/58866/pg58866-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.

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