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LIGHT AND HEALTH

Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen is part of . You can jump to any chapter in this book here: . Chapter LI HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series [LINK TO TABLE OF LINK] Chapter 51 Their sister’s wedding day arrived; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for her probably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to meet them at ——, and they were to return in it by dinner-time. Their arrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets, and Jane more especially, who gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had she been the culprit, and was wretched in the thought of what her sister must endure. They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast room to receive them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet as the carriage drove up to the door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed, anxious, uneasy. Lydia’s voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand, with an affectionate smile, to Wickham, who followed his lady; and wished them both joy with an alacrity which shewed no doubt of their happiness. Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quite so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcely opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was enough to provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet was shocked. Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their congratulations; and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and observed, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been there. Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself, but his manners were always so pleasing, that had his character and his marriage been exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he claimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth had not before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down, resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudence of an impudent man. She blushed, and Jane blushed; but the cheeks of the two who caused their confusion suffered no variation of colour. There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither of them talk fast enough; and Wickham, who happened to sit near Elizabeth, began enquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood, with a good humoured ease which she felt very unable to equal in her replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia led voluntarily to subjects which her sisters would not have alluded to for the world. “Only think of its being three months,” she cried, “since I went away; it seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been things enough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure I had no more idea of being married till I came back again! though I thought it would be very good fun if I was.” Her father lifted up his eyes. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth looked expressively at Lydia; but she, who never heard nor saw anything of which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, “Oh! mamma, do the people hereabouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might not; and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was determined he should know it, and so I let down the side-glass next to him, and took off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like anything.” Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room; and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to the dining parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with anxious parade, walk up to her mother’s right hand, and hear her say to her eldest sister, “Ah! Jane, I take your place now, and you must go lower, because I am a married woman.” It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Phillips, the Lucases, and all their other neighbours, and to hear herself called “Mrs. Wickham” by each of them; and in the mean time, she went after dinner to show her ring, and boast of being married, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids. “Well, mamma,” said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast room, “and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a charming man? I am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half my good luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get husbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go.” “Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Lydia, I don’t at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?” “Oh, lord! yes;—there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all things. You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. We shall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some balls, and I will take care to get good partners for them all.” “I should like it beyond anything!” said her mother. “And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters behind you; and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the winter is over.” “I thank you for my share of the favour,” said Elizabeth; “but I do not particularly like your way of getting husbands.” Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham had received his commission before he left London, and he was to join his regiment at the end of a fortnight. No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their stay would be so short; and she made the most of the time by visiting about with her daughter, and having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to all; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did think, than such as did not. Wickham’s affection for Lydia was just what Elizabeth had expected to find it; not equal to Lydia’s for him. She had scarcely needed her present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that their elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, rather than by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring for her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity of having a companion. Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did every thing best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds on the first of September, than any body else in the country. One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth: “Lizzy, I never gave you an account of my wedding, I believe. You were not by, when I told mamma and the others all about it. Are not you curious to hear how it was managed?” “No really,” replied Elizabeth; “I think there cannot be too little said on the subject.” “La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were married, you know, at St. Clement’s, because Wickham’s lodgings were in that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven o’clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others were to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to know whether he would be married in his blue coat.” “Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and aunt were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you’ll believe me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or anything. To be sure London was rather thin, but, however, the Little Theatre was open. Well, and so just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon business to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he came back again in ten minutes’ time, and then we all set out. However, I recollected afterwards that if he had been prevented going, the wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well.” “Mr. Darcy!” repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement. “Oh, yes!—he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But gracious me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!” “If it was to be secret,” said Jane, “say not another word on the subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.” “Oh! certainly,” said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; “we will ask you no questions.” “Thank you,” said Lydia, “for if you did, I should certainly tell you all, and then Wickham would be angry.” On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her power, by running away. But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least it was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at her sister’s wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people, where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go. Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her brain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She could not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what Lydia had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been intended. “You may readily comprehend,” she added, “what my curiosity must be to know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively speaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it—unless it is, for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems to think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with ignorance.” “Not that I shall, though,” she added to herself, as she finished the letter; “and my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it out.” Jane’s delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was glad of it;—till it appeared whether her enquiries would receive any satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante. 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. Austen, Jane. 2021. Pride and Prejudice. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved April 2022, from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1342/1342-h/1342-h.htm#link2HCH0051 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

Pride and Prejudice: Chapter 51

A recent update to Glassdoor's privacy policy has sparked concern and debate among privacy advocates and users alike, leading to questions about the future of honest employer reviews on the platform. Until now, Glassdoor has been a haven for anonymous, candid feedback about employers, offering insights that often pierce the polished exteriors presented by corporate PR. However, this changed as Glassdoor implemented a policy requiring users to verify their real identities. Disclosing full name, job title, and employer is now required. Questions on how to leave an anonymous review on Glassdoor have been buzzing non-stop the entire week. Wave of outrage on social media Although people ask ‘are glassdoor reviews anonymous?’ can be safe, the policy shift has not been without its controversies. One article in particular caught everyone's eye, and created a wave of outrage on social media. A Glassdoor user of 10 years, referred to as Monika in the publication, reports that she contacted Glassdoor support to request help removing information from her account. Instead of deleting her details, the Glassdoor team took her real name and added it to her Glassdoor profile, says a software professional. Instances have emerged on social media of users discovering their names added to their previously anonymous reviews without consent. Those who tried account deactivation found no luck. The username next to a review stays even after account deactivation. Some users report that even a data erasure request does not take effect immediately, and up to 30 days a username can still be visible. Quietly changing a privacy policy could break the law Glassdoor's policy changes highlight a larger issue—the extensive collection and potential misuse of personal data. The ease with which companies can amass vast amounts of user data, or how easily they can change their privacy policies, raises serious concerns. Are there ways to effectively fight it? Well, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC), whose mission is to protect US consumers, published a saying that quietly altering a privacy policy could be a deceptive and unfair act against consumers. The FTC is signaling it might go after the offenders and warned companies to be more upfront when asking users for permission to their data. blog post Many are awaiting more proactive government action on private data collection by businesses. A number of companies, called data brokers, have acted as a one-stop solution for buying and selling personal data to other companies for years now. The global data trade market is projected to only grow: from $319.030 billion in 2021, it is expected to reach $545.431 billion in 2028. Without effective laws, some people report taking the matter into their own hands: opting out one-by-one from these databases is the option people have turned to. Also, services have emerged offering some hope in the ongoing battle for data protection. Many of such tools, like Incogni, are designed to help users to opt out from databases storing their details on a bigger scale, and to prevent an individual's information from being re-added as this happens often. Why do Glassdoor users feel betrayed? Critically, the anonymity provided by Glassdoor has been a shield for employees wishing to leave unfiltered feedback about their employers. People have shared on social media several instances, where employees faced termination or legal threats from companies for negative reviews posted on Glassdoor. This is exactly what Glassdoor users fear the most, and why everyone has been screaming for help this entire week. What can Glassdoor users do next? Recently Glassdoor CEO made a statement saying that ‘Anonymous posts will always stay anonymous.’ This does not seem to convince users, as comments on social media shows. Many are looking for ways to erase their details from Glassdoor, and there are two steps on getting back anonymity on Glassdoor: This signals the company to cease any further usage of user data. You can deactivate your account by visiting the Glassdoor user settings section and choosing to "Deactivate account." Deactivating the Glassdoor account. It ensures that the user's personal details are no longer accessible to other users. It serves as a means for individuals to opt out of the platform, taking control over their data privacy. This request can be made by contacting customer support, but it might take up to 30 days to take effect. How to delete Glassdoor account. The new era of less anonymity on Glassdoor The transition towards real name verification by Glassdoor reflects a broader conversation about privacy, trust, and the rights of individuals in the digital world. As platforms navigate the balance between transparency and user protection, the reactions and adaptations of their communities will undoubtedly shape the future of online anonymity and privacy policies.

Glassdoor Leaves Users in Shock After it Starts Adding Real Names

প্রকৃত নাম যোগ করা শুরু করার পর গ্লাসডোর ব্যবহারকারীদের শক ছেড়ে দেয়

Glassdoor versetzt Benutzer in Schock, nachdem es begonnen hat, echte Namen hinzuzufügen

Glassdoor deja a los usuarios en shock después de comenzar a agregar nombres reales

Glassdoor laisse les utilisateurs sous le choc après avoir commencé à ajouter de vrais noms

ग्लासडोर ने वास्तविक नाम जोड़ना शुरू करने के बाद उपयोगकर्ताओं को सदमे में डाल दिया

Glassdoor が実名を追加し始めてユーザーにショックを与える

Glassdoor는 실명을 추가하기 시작한 후 사용자를 충격에 빠뜨립니다.

Glassdoor deixa os usuários em choque depois de começar a adicionar nomes reais

Glassdoor поверг пользователей в шок после того, как начал добавлять настоящие имена

Glassdoor Gerçek İsimleri Eklemeye Başladıktan Sonra Kullanıcıları Şokta Bırakıyor

Glassdoor khiến người dùng bị sốc sau khi bắt đầu thêm tên thật

Glassdoor 开始采用实名制，用户大吃一惊

More Beetles by Jean-Henri Fabre, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE GOLD BEETLES: THEIR NUPTIAL HABITS CHAPTER XIV. THE GOLD BEETLES: THEIR NUPTIAL HABITS It is admitted that, as an ardent destroyer of caterpillars and Slugs, the Gold Beetle has pre-eminently earned his title of “Gardener”: he is the watchful keeper of our kitchen-gardens and our flower-borders. If my enquiries add nothing to his established reputation in this respect, they will at least, in what follows, display the insect in an as yet unsuspected light. The ferocious eater, the ogre devouring any prey not beyond his powers, is eaten in his turn. And by whom? By his own kin and many others. We will begin by naming two of his enemies, the Fox and the Toad, who, in hard times, for lack of anything better, do not disdain such lean and caustic mouthfuls. When telling the story of the Trox, I described how the excreta of the Fox, which are easily recognized by the Rabbit’s-fur whereof they largely consist, are sometimes encrusted with Gold Beetles’ wing-cases: the ordure is adorned with sheets of gold. This testifies to the bill of fare. It is not highly nourishing nor particularly plentiful and it tastes bitter; but, after all, a few Carabi help to stay the appetite a little. As regards the Toad, I have similar evidence. In summer, in the garden-paths, from time to time I happen on some curious objects whose origin at first leaves me quite undecided. They are small black sausages, the thickness of my little finger, which crumble very easily after drying in the sun. We recognize a conglomeration of Ants’ heads and nothing besides, unless it be some remnants of slender leg. What can this singular product be, this granular amalgam consisting of hundreds and hundreds of heads packed close together? One’s mind turns to a ball disgorged by the Owl after the nourishing part has been sorted by the stomach. Further reflection discards the idea: a nocturnal bird of prey, though fond of insects, does not feed on such tiny game as this. To catch on the sticky tip of the tongue such very small fry and to collect them one by one calls for a consumer endowed with plenty of time and patience. Who is it? Could it be the Toad? I see no other in the enclosure to whom I can attribute a salmagundy of Ants. Experiment will solve the riddle for us. I have an old acquaintance in the garden and I know where he lives. We often meet at the hour of my evening rounds. He looks at me with his gold-yellow eyes and gravely passes on to attend to his business. He is a Toad big enough to fill a saucer, a veteran respected by the whole household. We call him the Philosopher. I apply to him to elucidate the question of the conglomerations of Ants’ heads. I imprison him in a cage, without any food, and wait until the contents of his sated paunch undergo the labours of digestion. Things do not take very long. After a few days’ time, the prisoner presents me with a specimen of black ordure, moulded into a cylinder, exactly resembling those which I observe on the paths of the enclosure. It is, like the others, an amalgam of Ants’ heads. I restore the Philosopher to liberty. Thanks to him, the problem which puzzled me so greatly is solved: I know for certain that the Toad is a great eater of Ants, a very small quarry, it is true, but easy to collect and inexhaustible. It is not always a free choice on his part. He prefers larger mouthfuls when available. He lives mainly on Ants because they abound in the enclosure, whereas the other insects running on the surface of the ground are comparatively scarce. If occasionally the glutton finds more sumptuous fare, he appreciates the feast all the more highly. In evidence of these unusual banquets, I will mention certain dejecta found in the enclosure and composed almost entirely of Gold Beetles’ wing-cases. The remainder of the product, the paste joining the golden scales together, consisted of Ants’ heads, the authentic work of the consumer. So the Toad feeds on Carabi when he has the opportunity. He, our garden helper, robs us of another helper no less valuable. The useful, from our point of view, destroys the useful: a little lesson which should modify our ingenuous belief that all things are created for our service. There is worse to come. The Gold Beetle, the policeman who, in our gardens, keeps an eye on the misdeeds of the caterpillar and the Slug, is guilty of the vice of cannibalism. One day, in the shadow of the plane-trees outside my door, I see one passing very busily. The pilgrim is welcome: he will increase by one the colony in my vivarium. As I capture him, I perceive that the tips of his wing-cases are slightly damaged. Is this the result of a fight between rivals? There is nothing to tell me. The great thing is that the Beetle should not be handicapped by a serious injury. I examine him, find that he is unwounded and fit for service and put him among the twenty-five occupants of the glass cage. Next day, I look for the new inmate. He is dead. His comrades have attacked him during the night and cleaned out his abdomen, which was inadequately protected by the injured wing-cases. The operation was very neatly done, without any mutilation. Legs, head, corselet are all in their right places; only the abdomen has a wide opening through which its contents have been removed. What we see is a sort of golden shell formed of two connected wing-cases. An Oyster-shell emptied of its mollusc looks no cleaner. This result astonishes me, for I take very good care that the cage is never without provisions. The Snail, the Cockchafer, the Praying Mantis, the Earthworm, the caterpillar and other favourite dishes alternate in my refectory in more than sufficient quantities. My Gold Beetles therefore had not the excuse of hunger in devouring a brother whose damaged armour lent itself to easy attack. Can it be their custom to finish off the wounded and to ransack the stomach of an injured kinsman? Pity is unknown among the insects. At the sight of the desperate struggles of a crippled relation, not one of the same race will stop, not one will try to help him. With carnivorous insects, matters may take an even more tragic turn. Sometimes the passers-by will run up to the invalid. Do they do so in order to assist him? Not at all: they do it to see what he tastes like and, if they find him good, to cure his ills thoroughly by devouring him. It is therefore possible that the Carabus with the damaged wing-cases tempted his comrades by the sight of his partly denuded body. They saw in their helpless brother a prey which it was lawful to dissect. But do they respect one another when there is no previous injury? At first sight, everything would seem to show that their relations are very peaceful. There is never any scuffling between the feasters at their meals, nothing but mouth-to-mouth robberies. Nor are there any quarrels during the long siestas under the cover of the board. Half-buried in the cool earth, my five-and-twenty specimens quietly slumber and digest their food, at no great distance one from the other, each in his little trench. If I take away the shelter, they awake, make off, run hither and thither, constantly meeting without molesting one another. Profound peace therefore prevails and seems likely to last for ever when, on inspecting the cage during the first heats of June, I find a dead Carabus. His limbs are intact; he is very neatly reduced to a mere golden husk; he shows us once more what we saw in the helpless Beetle who was lately devoured; he reminds us of the shell of the eaten Oyster. I examine the remains. But for the huge breach in the abdomen, all is as it should be. So the insect was in good health when the others gutted it. A few days later, yet another Carabus is slain and treated like the others, with all the various pieces of the armour undisturbed. If we lay him on his belly, he seems as though intact; if we lay him on his back, he is hollow, without a scrap of flesh left inside his carapace. A little later I find another empty relic, then another, and yet another, until my menagerie is rapidly diminishing. If this frenzied slaughter continues, I shall soon have nothing left in the vivarium. Can it be that my Gold Beetles, worn out by age, die a natural death or that the females batten on the corpses, or is the population being reduced at the expense of hale and hearty subjects? It is not easy to elucidate the matter, for the disembowelling usually takes place at night. Nevertheless, by exerting vigilance, I twice succeed in observing the autopsy by daylight. In the middle of June, before my eyes a female sets to work upon a male, whom I recognize as such by his rather smaller size. The operation begins. Lifting the ends of the wing-cases, the assailant seizes her victim by the tip of the abdomen, on the dorsal surface. Eagerly she tugs and munches. The captive, though in the pink of condition, does not defend himself, does not turn round. He pulls his hardest in the opposite direction, to release himself from the terrible mandibles; he moves this way or that, according as he is dragging his aggressor or being dragged by her; and here his resistance ends. The combat lasts a quarter of an hour. Other Beetles passing by, stop, as though to say: “My turn next.” At last, redoubling his efforts, the male frees himself and escapes. No doubt, if he had not succeeded in getting away, he would have had his belly gutted by the fearsome dame. A few days later I witness a similar scene, but this time the tragedy is completed. Once more it is a female who seizes a male from behind. The bitten one submits with no more protest than his vain efforts to release himself. The skin at last gives way, the wound widens, the viscera are rooted out and swallowed by the matron, who empties the carapace with her head buried in her compeer’s belly. The tremors of the poor wretch’s legs announce his approaching end. The murderess takes no notice and continues to rummage as far up as the narrow entrance to the thorax allows her to go. Nothing is left of the deceased but the wing-cases, packed boat-wise, and the fore-part of the body, which is not disjointed. The empty remains are abandoned where they lie. So must have perished the Gold Beetles, always males, whose relics I find from time to time in the cage; thus the survivors too must perish. Between the middle of June and the first of August, the inmates, numbering twenty-five at the outset, are reduced to five females. All the twenty males have disappeared, ripped open and drained dry. And by whom? Apparently by the females. This is borne out by the two assaults which chance permitted me to witness; twice, in broad daylight, I saw the female devour the male after opening his belly under the wing-cases, or at least trying to do so. As for the rest of the murders, though direct observation be lacking, I have one very valuable piece of evidence. As we have seen, the captive does not retaliate, does not defend himself; he merely strives to escape by pulling as hard as he can. If it were a simple fight, an ordinary scuffle such as life’s rivalries may lead to, the Beetle attacked would obviously turn round, since he is in a position to do so; in a close tussle, he would retort on the aggressor and give bite for bite. His strength enables him to wage a battle which might turn to his advantage; and the fool allows his rump to be gnawed with impunity. It looks as though an invincible repugnance prevents him from retaliating by eating a bit of her who is eating him. This tolerance reminds me of the Languedocian Scorpion, who, after his wedding, allows himself to be devoured by his mate without using his weapon, the poisoned sting which is quite capable of killing the virago; it reminds me of the Praying Mantis’ swain, who is sometimes reduced to a mere stump and, in spite of all, continues his unfinished work while he is being chewed in little mouthfuls, without the least expression of revolt. These are nuptial rites against which the male is not entitled to protest. 1 2 The males in my collection of Gold Beetles, from the first to the last eviscerated, tell us of similar habits. They are the victims of their mates when these have had their fill of matrimony. During four months, from April to July, couples form daily, sometimes only tentatively, sometimes and more often concluding in effective pairing. There is no end to it with these fiery temperaments. The Carabus is expeditious in his love-affairs. A male passing in the crowd flings himself upon a female, the first that comes, without any previous flirting. The she thus bestridden lifts her head a little as a sign of acquiesence, while her rider whips her neck with the tips of his antennæ. When the coupling is finished—and it does not take long—the two separate abruptly, recuperate their strength by a mouthful of the Snail served up for their food, after which they both get married again, the wedding being repeated so long as males remain available. After feasting, a brutal wooing; after the wooing, more feasting: this sums up the Gold Beetle’s life. The ladies in my menagerie were not in proportion to the number of suitors: there were five females to twenty males. No matter: there was no rivalry, no exchange of blows; a most peaceful use and abuse was made of the passing fair. With this mutual tolerance, sooner or later, many times over and according to the chance of the encounters, each one finds the wherewithal to satisfy his ardour. I should have preferred a more evenly divided assembly. Luck, not choice, gave me that which I had at my disposal. I collected in early spring all the Gold Beetles that I could find under the stones around, without distinction of sex, which is not easy to recognize merely by external characteristics. Afterwards, as I reared them in my cages, I learnt that a slight excess in size was the distinctive sign of the females. My menagerie, so unequal in the numerical relation of the sexes, was therefore a fortuitous result. It seems likely that this proportion of males does not exist under natural conditions. On the other hand, such numerous groups are never seen at liberty, sheltered under the same stone. The Gold Beetle leads an almost solitary life; it is rare to find two or three gathered at one spot. The assembly in my menagerie is therefore exceptional, although it does not lead to disorder. There is plenty of room in the glass cage for distant rambles and for all the usual diversions. He who wants to be alone remains alone; he who wants company soon finds it. For that matter, captivity does not seem to trouble them unduly, as is shown by the frequent feasting and their daily repeated mating. They could thrive no better if at liberty in the fields: perhaps they would not thrive so well, for food is not so abundant there as in the cage. As regards comfort, therefore, the prisoners are in a normal condition favouring the preservation of their usual habits. Only, meetings of kinsfolk occur more often here than in the open. This, no doubt, affords the females better opportunities to persecute the males for whom they have no further use, to grab them by the rump and disembowel them. This hunting of the bygone lovers is aggravated but certainly not innovated by the too close vicinity: such customs are never improvised. When the mating is over, a female meeting a male in the open must then treat him as fair game and munch him up in order to close the matrimonial rites. I have turned over many stones but have never chanced upon this spectacle; no matter: what I saw in the cage is enough to convince me. What a world the Gold Beetle lives in, where the matron devours her partner when she no longer needs him to fertilize her ovaries! And how lightly do the laws of creation hold the males, to allow them to be butchered in this way! Are these fits of cannibalism following upon love widely distributed? For the moment I know only three really characteristic examples: those of the Praying Mantis, the Languedocian Scorpion and the Golden Carabus. The horror of the lover converted into prey is also found in the Locustian tribe, though accompanied by less brutality, for the victim devoured is now a dead and not a living insect. The female of the White-faced Decticus is quite willing to nibble a leg of the defunct male. The Green Grasshopper behaves likewise. 3 4 To a certain degree the nature of the diet acts as an excuse: Dectici and Grasshoppers are first and foremost carnivores. Coming upon a corpse of their own species, the matrons consume it more or less thoroughly, even if it be that of last night’s lover. Considered as game, one is as good as another. But what shall we say of the vegetarians? As the laying-season approaches, the Ephippiger turns upon her companion, still full of life, and bites him, makes a hole in his belly and eats as much of him as her appetite allows. The easy-going Cricket suddenly develops a shrewish character: she beats the mate who lately wooed her in such impassioned serenades; she rends his wings, breaks his fiddle and even goes so far as to tear a few mouthfuls from the musician. So it seems probable that this mortal aversion of the female for the male after the pairing is fairly common, especially among the carnivorous insects. What is the reason of these atrocious habits? If circumstances favour me, I shall not fail to investigate it. 5 Of the whole colony in the cage I have five females left at the beginning of August. Their conduct has changed greatly since the eating of the males. Food has become indifferent to them. They no longer run up to the Snail, whom I serve half-stripped of his shell; they scorn the plump Mantis and the Caterpillar, their erstwhile delights; they doze under the shelter of the board and rarely show themselves. Can this mean preparation for the laying? I enquire into this day by day, being most anxious to see the first appearance of the little larvæ, an artless first appearance, deprived of all solicitude, as I foresee from the lack of industry in the mother. I wait in vain: there is no laying. Meanwhile the cool nights of October arrive. Four females perish, this time by a natural death. The survivor takes no notice of them. She refuses them burial in her stomach, a burial at one time accorded to the males, dissected alive. She cowers as deep down in the ground as the scanty earth of the cage permits. In November, when Mont Ventoux is white with the first snows, she grows torpid in her hiding-place. Let us henceforth leave her in peace. She will live through the winter, everything seems to tell us, and produce her eggs next spring. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jean-Henri Fabre (2022). More Beetles. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/67201/pg67201-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 GOLD BEETLES: THEIR NUPTIAL HABITS

THE STARS OF SPRING

Sunday morning thoughts on identity theft Today, I went out for a Sunday morning stroll and snack/coffee around the neighbourhood. Sitting at the table outside a street-level (oh, the perks of September in Lisbon), I look at the clear glass window next to the entrance door, and see no less than . A girl’s card, a man’s card, and an old lady’s card. This is a strangely common thing here in Portugal. Behind it lies the assumption that the person who lost their card lives in the neighbourhood, might return to the cafeteria, and gets their card back without the hassle of asking for a replacement (or someone recognises the person and contacts them). The cards were taped to the inner side of the window, alright, but even so, they were: cafeteria three Citizen Cards taped to the glass quite available for someone to take them away; quite available for someone to take pictures of both sides of the card; and completely available for someone to go there when the cafeteria is closed and take a picture of the front of the card. Specimen of the Portuguese “Citizen Card” (from ) autenticacao.gov.pt For context, let us remember what a Portuguese identity card bears on both sides (italics for what is, IMHO, particularly sensitive information): Front: , gender, height, nationality, , , expiry date, (B&W). full name date of birth ID number signature, photo Back: . full name of both parents, tax payer number, Social Security number, National Health Service number The road to hell is paved with good intentions and with scams conducted using only the information you can get from an ID card taped to a cafeteria’s window. Although the Portuguese card is an electronic one, the vast majority of use cases of identity proof (special highlight for… !) are still handled as if we didn’t leave the hideous yellow paper identity card behind. banking A (blank) good old “Bilhete de Identidade” (By User:Dantadd [Public domain], ) via Wikimedia Commons Due to lack of technological equipment, and to a combination of good will and commercial interest in getting people through the funnel, too much of the audit trail is established using a of the electronic card (sometimes, with enough persuasion and good back story, without even showing the real document). One of the cards on the cafeteria’s window is from a senior citizen, so a fraudster could easily come up with a mobility related story to both justify the absence of the person and create empathy to cut some procedural corners. legally dubious paper copy This is particularly serious regarding access to restricted information through channels. We have here most of the information customer support agents usually ask as means to confirm that you are you. The only key piece of information missing is your address (which in the card’s chip, protected by a PIN). In most cases one can aim at obtaining it through some social engineering action. The complexity of this endeavour can range from in loco observation (remember the card was left at a cafeteria and has a photo) combined with helpful neighbours ( ) to simply googling your name. An attacker can also get their way to your address through customer support line’s naive procedures (e.g. to get you a replacement loyalty card, they confirm your identity through the remaining info and then to confirm that’s where you want the card sent to). telephone neighbourhood “Do you know what floor is Mr. Smith? I found his wallet!” another tell you your full address Finally, there’s gaining access to (email, social networks, e-commerce, etc.). With a combination of name, date of birth, and photo, one can get a positive match on one of these accounts, and then social engineer one’s way into password reset/recovery. One might even get the “mother’s maiden name” question! For a Portuguese citizen, this particularly easier to obtain, because it’s part of one’s full name — but having both paretns’ full names on the back of the card is a convenient way of telling which of those middle names by the dozen is the magic answer. online accounts security Through all these scenarios, there’s also the possibility for an attacker to get your valuable information from… ! After tying the information in the identity card to a telephone number (again, social engineering), an attacker can pose themselves as a legitimate customer service representative (well, they do know your full name, date of birth, ID number, tax payer number, …) claiming to be solving some problem with your account. you The above examples are described with the Portuguese social and institutional fabric in my mind, but they’re easily applicable elsewhere, with some high-profile cases showing just that. . . Amazon is vulnerable to this type of hack So is Apple In conclusion, as a strong piece of advice: If you find a lost identity card (or any type of personal document), . The time and money cost of asking for a replacement ID card are peanut compared with the potential consequences of exposing someone to identity theft — so you’re doing someone a bigger favour by acting like this. hand it at the nearest police station or to a police officer If you run a store of any sort, either not accept any lost documents (and direct people to the authorities) or accept them and keep them for some days before handing them to the authorities. in a safe place Never put anyone’s documents on display! Identity theft real. is This post represents my personal opinion on this subject, not that of any company I work (or have worked) at/for on this subject area.

“If you find me, hand me at the nearest cafeteria” — Said no ID card ever

In 1906 a british scientist named Francis Galton went to a country fair where he saw a weight judging contest for a large ox. The participants paid money to put their wagers and try their luck guessing the ox weight. A total of 800 people took place in the contest. Of course none of them have guessed the correct weight of the ox. Some of them were way off either underestimating or overestimating the ox weight but what Francis found out was nothing less than amazing. He found that the median of the answers was 1207 pounds which was accurate within 1% of the true weight of 1198 pounds. I read about Francis’s findings recently and found it pretty impressive and so I decided to do a small of my own… Let’s see if the works on guessing the number of flax seeds in a jar. Above is a picture of my flax seed jar. I put it next to a glass so you’ll be able to grasp its size. I’ve also created a very simple form where you can add your guess. Please don’t write your guess in the comments. experiment crowd wisdom https://goo.gl/forms/SfYJbEtTmbIBiMgM2 I’ll post the answer in a few days once enough people will guess. The key here is crowd so feel free to share this post among your friends if you’re curious like me to find out if crowd-wisdom really works :) Update 3/18/2017 Read all about the experiment’s results . here

The crowd-wisdom challenge

Recording glasses should default to appreciating the privacy of others — and do other cool things as well. For many years I’ve wanted glasses that would help me observe and record what I see and hear in the world — but in a polite way that would respect the privacy of others. Since nobody has made anything like that (that I know of) I decided to , back in January of ’14, back when (in more than one meaning of the word, since they were famously oblivious to the privacy of others). publish my idea Google Glasses were all the rage I immodestly called my idea “Searls Glasses,” because the first four letters of my surname, as luck has it, combines “see” and “hear” (or “ear”) — and because they’re still glasses as well. Besides, I was in a rush and didn’t think of a better name. And it doesn’t matter because I don’t care. Call them what you want. Far as I’m concerned, this is one of those patentable ideas that actually belongs in the public domain. That’s the main reason I’m putting it here. Anyway, now that Snapchat has come out with its … Spectacles …and (even though they do look way cool, and quite promising — at least to me), seems like a good time to re-vet my original feature set, either to guide competitive developers, or to urge Snapchat toward something that does a helluva lot more (and a lot more respectfully) than their first effort. Here are the call-outs for the numbers next to the glasses above: the feature set seems to be rather limited First-person (a light indicating a state of willingness to relate, or presence of a relationship) rindicator Second/third person rindicator (a light indicating a state of relationship with a nearby second or third party). Binocular (3D) cameras. Off/on light. Green means it’s not recording. Red means it is recording. microphones (one in each tyne) and electronics section, plus all the other required circuitry (recording, bluetooth, battery). Binaural Earphones. Rindicators (#s 1 and 2) are what we’ve been calling “ ” in the development community. I re-named them on the plane where I cooked up this whole idea and wrote it down. How they work and what they symbolize are still up in the air. UI elements that indicate actions and/or states of relating are essential, I believe — not just here, but in countless other kinds of hardware and software. r-buttons VRM Binocular cameras (#3) are way cooler than the usual monocular ones (such as Google Glass’s). Hey, our eyes and glasses are already 3-D. Why not the cameras we wear on our heads? These, however, have an additional feature: they look for second-party signals of privacy policies. So, for example, if Searls Glasses see somebody wearing one of these buttons — Customer Commons — with a QR code in the middle, and the scanned QR code says “don’t take my picture or video-record me,” that wish will be respected. Same goes for a button containing a that says the same thing. This is an example of something Google Glass and Snapchat Spectacles both lack: . (For more context, see , a paper highly influenced by work many of us have been doing with VRM.) near-field transmitter Privacy By Design Big Privacy The on-off light (#4) tells others whether the cameras are on and recording what they see. I am amazed, now that headphones are at high fashion ebb, that we don’t hear much about , and no smartphones or tablets feature it yet. Maybe Snapchat (or some competitor) can change that. In the meantime, find some binaural sound recordings and listen to them, on headphones. They are much different than conventional stereo recordings, because only two microphones are used, typically located on a bust — a mannequin head — in the positions of human ears. That way they record what a person hears, rather than what a sound engineer puts together with a mixer. The effect is the aural equivalent of 3-D images: the whole “sound stage” is very much a you-are-there-360°-on-all-axes experience. In other words, better than 3D. With my design here, you can make your own binaural recordings, thanks to binaural microphones over the ears (#5). Lights on the tynes will also tell others whether or not you are recording: another example of privacy by design. binaural recording I think the best way to record, and to manage everything these glasses make possible, is with a smartphone or tablet app, connected by bluetooth. Ideally it would be a great app on its own merits, but not lock the person into any one company’s closed, locked and proprietary feudal system. (Such as Google’s and Snapchat’s.) As a bonus, my design would also pick up low-energy bluetooth signals, and radiate them as well. Much has been said and written lately about these. (By my friend especially.) Robert Scoble But, instead of thinking about how marketers can use these beacons, , think about what can do with them. For example: sending signals of your own interest in some product or service — or your disinterest in being followed right now, while you’re shopping. Or telling the store you’re in that you don’t want to be followed, turning off surveillance of marketing spyware (or at least requesting that your preferences be respected). you I’d like to know what you think, but I also think what developers do with this idea (or the ideas it spurs) is more important. You’re welcome.

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