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A contract, in general, is the representation of an agreement between parties. It could be spoken, but it’s usually a physical and/or digital document specifying the nature and terms of said agreement, as well as the rights and obligations of each party. If some of the involved actors misbehave, then the dispute could be solved in a court of law. We don’t have courts in Obyte, but we do have safe digital contracts. . Indeed, smart contracts on distributed ledgers like Bitcoin or are digital agreements whose conditions are enforced by code, rather than law. Contracts are mostly tied to local laws and authorities, but they can also be automatic and self-enforced Obyte In other words, they’re computer programs designed to carry on some pre-set conditions automatically once an event (physical or digital) happens. The best part is that you don’t need to know how to code to use smart contracts. Similarly, you don’t need to code to find some other useful and user-friendly types of digital contracts in Obyte. You’ll just need your wallet and a partner to make the contract with. Let’s learn more about this. Smart Contracts & Autonomous Agents We’ve defined a smart contract as a type of automatic and digital agreement, but we do have two kinds of tools that make money programmable in Obyte: smart contracts and autonomous agents (AA). Both of them are computer programs designed to make a specific (and digital) task, but just one of them involves two or more “real” parties. They’re like vending machines, offering a task (exchanges, attestations, donations, etc.) as a service for real people. aren’t contracts, so, there’s close to nothing to negotiate with them. Autonomous Agents On the other hand, a contract (smart or not) always involves at least two parties. And that’s what a contract is for, after all: it mediates between real parties. In Obyte, anyone can create their own easily through the wallet —without any code. The feature is there to help all types of users avoid additional intermediaries in any kind of negotiation or transaction. smart contracts When starting a smart contract with someone else, you agree to lock your funds inside this app until the agreed terms are met by the other party. It could work for any kind of or shared wallets. conditional payment Offering a Smart Contract The first step to offer a smart contract to another party in is that both of you have previously downloaded the wallet. Then, if you can take some and back up your seed, the better. Obyte security measures Most contracts in Obyte can be done through the “Chat” section of the wallet. The parties must be in the “Contacts” list of the other for it, so, the next step is to “Add a new device”, and send or accept an invitation to connect. Once done, you can start a chat to discuss the contract conditions and exchange your Obyte addresses. By clicking on the other’s address (Alice’s, for example), you’ll have the option to offer a smart contract. If the result of some real-world event (like a soccer match) is needed to complete the agreement, then you should type a selected (a data feed) from . oracle address the list of oracles available on Obyte You can add several devices, either controlled by yourself or by several parties. This way, most of the involved parties or devices must authorize every transaction before spending funds. Another way to use smart contracts is by creating a multi-signature (shared) wallet. Prosaic Contracts As the name may suggest (prose = regular text), these are more traditional contracts but are registered forever on the DAG. Instead of a hand-written signature, both parties sign their agreement with their Obyte wallets. And, the signatures created in the process are completely valid digital signatures. They’re classified as advanced electronic signatures under the European electronic signature regulation and similar laws of some other countries. So, it’s a fully secure contract that could be enforced by law or by an external arbitrator. isn’t a smart contract, though. It’s legally binding, but it doesn’t lock any funds, hence, it can’t guarantee the contract’s performance. Courts would do so instead, like in traditional contracts. A prosaic contract That’s why it is highly recommended to use real-world identities when signing a prosaic contract in Obyte. To do this, both users can use the available in the same wallet, through the Real Name Attestation Bot in the Bot Store (Chat tab). ID attestation features After both wallets are paired and attested, the path to offering a prosaic contract is the same as offering a smart contract: Chat – Contacts – [Device name] – [Address] – Offer a prosaic contract. You need to write the contract with your own terms, set a duration time for the offer, and share it with the other party. If they accept, you’ll have legal proof of your agreement, but it’ll be available only in your wallets for privacy. Contracts With Arbitration Oracles are services that provide external (off-chain) information to the distributed ledger —but they can only do so much. The potential agreements between people aren’t always related to publicly available data, like who won a soccer match. Instead, there’s a lot of private and/or very specific information that could only be shared by the parties. A job contract, for example. If the employer or the employee misbehaves, a crypto oracle won’t help with it. That’s the raison d'etre of the in Obyte. You can write whatever terms you want and share them with the other party, just like in a prosaic contract. contracts with arbitration They’re a mix between prosaic contracts and smart contracts. However, contracts with arbitration can lock funds until the conditions are met. Selecting an Arbiter In this kind of contract, it’s assumed that one side is the payer (buyer), while the other is doing a job or offering a product (seller) in return for payment. The contract is only shared between paired wallets, as we’ve seen above, and the funds involved are locked. After the seller completes their part of the deal (do the job or send the product), the buyer should release the funds if everything’s ok with the terms. Likewise, if the seller considers that they won’t be able to meet the terms, they can refund the money with a single click. Now, if one of the parties misbehaves, they can open a dispute to solve it. Long before this point, at the moment of writing the contract, the address of an arbiter had to be selected. In case of a dispute, the selected arbiter will be the one to decide who keeps the money. An arbiter in such contracts is a trusted and identified (human) third party registered in the —a marketplace of arbiters offering their dispute resolution services. You can find several arbiters there, and check their data before selecting one. ArbStore You can see their bio, number of contracts and resolved disputes, last activity, languages, and service fees. The fees are payable only in case of a dispute. You don’t need to pay anything if the contract ends without a dispute. Beyond them, if you find the arbiter decision unfair for any reason, you can report them to the ArbStore moderators. They won’t be able to refund all your money, but if they find that the decision wasn’t right, the arbiter could be delisted and you could recover at least part of your funds. By using smart contracts and contracts with arbitration, by locking the funds involved. it’s possible to even build any kind of marketplace (exchanges, jobs, used stuff, NFTs, etc.) that automatically protects both parties Prosaic contracts, on the other hand, are traditional (but digital) legal contracts protected by the law alone. Featured Vector Image by vectorpouch / Freepik

How to Use Contracts in Obyte: Smart, Prosaic, and With Arbitration

Cómo utilizar contratos en Obyte: inteligente, prosaico y con arbitraje

Comment utiliser les contrats dans Obyte : intelligent, prosaïque et avec arbitrage

ओबाइट में अनुबंधों का उपयोग कैसे करें: स्मार्ट, प्रोसिक और मध्यस्थता के साथ

Obyte で契約を使用する方法: スマート、プロモザイク、仲裁あり

Como usar contratos em Obyte: inteligente, prosaico e com arbitragem

Cách sử dụng hợp đồng trong Obyte: Thông minh, bình thường và có trọng tài

如何在 Obyte 中使用合约：智能、平淡且带仲裁

The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits by Lewis Carroll, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Preface here PREFACE If—and the thing is wildly possible—the charge of writing nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced, on the line (in p.4) “Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes.” In view of this painful possibility, I will not (as I might) appeal indignantly to my other writings as a proof that I am incapable of such a deed: I will not (as I might) point to the strong moral purpose of this poem itself, to the arithmetical principles so cautiously inculcated in it, or to its noble teachings in Natural History—I will take the more prosaic course of simply explaining how it happened. The Bellman, who was almost morbidly sensitive about appearances, used to have the bowsprit unshipped once or twice a week to be revarnished, and it more than once happened, when the time came for replacing it, that no one on board could remember which end of the ship it belonged to. They knew it was not of the slightest use to appeal to the Bellman about it—he would only refer to his Naval Code, and read out in pathetic tones Admiralty Instructions which none of them had ever been able to understand—so it generally ended in its being fastened on, anyhow, across the rudder. The helmsman used to stand by with tears in his eyes; he knew it was all wrong, but alas! Rule 42 of the Code, “No one shall speak to the Man at the Helm,” had been completed by the Bellman himself with the words “and the Man at the Helm shall speak to no one.” So remonstrance was impossible, and no steering could be done till the next varnishing day. During these bewildering intervals the ship usually sailed backwards. As this poem is to some extent connected with the lay of the Jabberwock, let me take this opportunity of answering a question that has often been asked me, how to pronounce “slithy toves.” The “i” in “slithy” is long, as in “writhe”; and “toves” is pronounced so as to rhyme with “groves.” Again, the first “o” in “borogoves” is pronounced like the “o” in “borrow.” I have heard people try to give it the sound of the “o” in “worry”. Such is Human Perversity. This also seems a fitting occasion to notice the other hard words in that poem. Humpty-Dumpty’s theory, of two meanings packed into one word like a portmanteau, seems to me the right explanation for all. For instance, take the two words “fuming” and “furious.” Make up your mind that you will say both words, but leave it unsettled which you will first. Now open your mouth and speak. If your thoughts incline ever so little towards “fuming,” you will say “fuming-furious;” if they turn, by even a hair’s breadth, towards “furious,” you will say “furious-fuming;” but if you have the rarest of gifts, a perfectly balanced mind, you will say “frumious.” Supposing that, when Pistol uttered the well-known words— “Under which king, Bezonian? Speak or die!” Justice Shallow had felt certain that it was either William or Richard, but had not been able to settle which, so that he could not possibly say either name before the other, can it be doubted that, rather than die, he would have gasped out “Rilchiam!” 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. Lewis Carroll (2008). The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13.html.images 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

If—and the thing is wildly possible—the charge of writing

La Constantin by Alexandre Dumas, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Chapter VII LA CONSTANTIN - CHAPTER VII On the day following this extraordinary series of adventures, explanations between those who were mixed up in them, whether as actors or spectators, were the order of the day. It was not till Maitre Quennebert reached the house of the friend who had offered to put him up for the night that it first dawned on him, that the interest which the Chevalier de Moranges had awakened in his mind had made him utterly forget the bag containing the twelve hundred livres which he owed to the generosity of the widow. This money being necessary to him, he went back to her early next morning. He found her hardly recovered from her terrible fright. Her swoon had lasted far beyond the time when the notary had left the house; and as Angelique, not daring to enter the bewitched room, had taken refuge in the most distant corner of her apartments, the feeble call of the widow was heard by no one. Receiving no answer, Madame Rapally groped her way into the next room, and finding that empty, buried herself beneath the bedclothes, and passed the rest of the night dreaming of drawn swords, duels, and murders. As soon as it was light she ventured into the mysterious room once more; without calling her servants, and found the bag of crowns lying open on the floor, with the coins scattered all around, the partition broken, and the tapestry hanging from it in shreds. The widow was near fainting again: she imagined at first she saw stains of blood everywhere, but a closer inspection having somewhat reassured her, she began to pick up the coins that had rolled to right and left, and was agreeably surprised to find the tale complete. But how and why had Maitre Quennebert abandoned them? What had become of him? She had got lost in the most absurd suppositions and conjectures when the notary appeared. Discovering from the first words she uttered that she was in complete ignorance of all that had taken place, he explained to her that when the interview between the chevalier and Mademoiselle de Guerchi had just at the most interesting moment been so unceremoniously interrupted by the arrival of the duke, he had become so absorbed in watching them that he had not noticed that the partition was bending before the pressure of his body, and that just as the duke drew his sword it suddenly gave way, and he, Quennebert, being thus left without support, tumbled head foremost into the next room, among a perfect chaos of overturned furniture and lamps; that almost before he could rise he was forced to draw in self-defence, and had to make his escape, defending himself against both the duke and the chevalier; that they had pursued him so hotly, that when he found himself free he was too far from the house and the hour was too advanced to admit of his returning, Quennebert added innumerable protestations of friendship, devotion, and gratitude, and, furnished with his twelve hundred crowns, went away, leaving the widow reassured as to his safety, but still shaken from her fright. While the notary was thus soothing the widow, Angelique was exhausting all the expedients her trade had taught her in the attempt to remove the duke’s suspicions. She asserted she was the victim of an unforeseen attack which nothing in her conduct had ever authorised. The young Chevalier de Moranges had, gained admittance, she declared, under the pretext that he brought her news from the duke, the one man who occupied her thoughts, the sole object of her love. The chevalier had seen her lover, he said, a few days before, and by cleverly appealing to things back, he had led her to fear that the duke had grown tired of her, and that a new conquest was the cause of his absence. She had not believed these insinuations, although his long silence would have justified the most mortifying suppositions, the most cruel doubts. At length the chevalier had grown bolder, and had declared his passion for her; whereupon she had risen and ordered him to leave her. Just at that moment the duke had entered, and had taken the natural agitation and confusion of the chevalier as signs of her guilt. Some explanation was also necessary to account for the presence of the two other visitors of whom he had been told below stairs. As he knew nothing at all about them, the servant who admitted them never having seen either of them before, she acknowledged that two gentlemen had called earlier in the evening; that they had refused to send in their names, but as they had said they had come to inquire about the duke, she suspected them of having been in league with the chevalier in the attempt to ruin her reputation, perhaps they had even promised to help him to carry her off, but she knew nothing positive about them or their plans. The duke, contrary to his wont, did not allow himself to be easily convinced by these lame explanations, but unfortunately for him the lady knew how to assume an attitude favourable to her purpose. She had been induced, she said, with the simple confidence born of love, to listen to people who had led her to suppose they could give her news of one so dear to her as the duke. From this falsehood she proceeded to bitter reproaches: instead of defending herself, she accused him of having left her a prey to anxiety; she went so far as to imply that there must be some foundation for the hints of the chevalier, until at last the duke, although he was not guilty of the slightest infidelity, and had excellent reasons to give in justification of his silence, was soon reduced to a penitent mood, and changed his threats into entreaties for forgiveness. As to the shriek he had heard, and which he was sure had been uttered by the stranger who had forced his way into her room after the departure of the others, she asserted that his ears must have deceived him. Feeling that therein lay her best chance of making things smooth, she exerted herself to convince him that there was no need for other information than she could give, and did all she could to blot the whole affair from his memory; and her success was such that at the end of the interview the duke was more enamoured and more credulous than ever, and believing he had done her wrong, he delivered himself up to her, bound hand and foot. Two days later he installed his mistress in another dwelling.... Madame Rapally also resolved to give up her rooms, and removed to a house that belonged to her, on the Pont Saint-Michel. The commander took the condition of Charlotte Boullenois very much to heart. The physician under whose care he had placed her, after examining her wounds, had not given much hope of her recovery. It was not that de Jars was capable of a lasting love, but Charlotte was young and possessed great beauty, and the romance and mystery surrounding their connection gave it piquancy. Charlotte’s disguise, too, which enabled de Jars to conceal his success and yet flaunt it in the face, as it were, of public morality and curiosity, charmed him by its audacity, and above all he was carried away by the bold and uncommon character of the girl, who, not content with a prosaic intrigue, had trampled underfoot all social prejudices and proprieties, and plunged at once into unmeasured and unrestrained dissipation; the singular mingling in her nature of the vices of both sexes; the unbridled licentiousness of the courtesan coupled with the devotion of a man for horses, wine, and fencing; in short, her eccentric character, as it would now be called, kept a passion alive which would else have quickly died away in his blase heart. Nothing would induce him to follow Jeannin’s advice to leave Paris for at least a few weeks, although he shared Jeannin’s fear that the statement they had been forced to give the stranger would bring them into trouble. The treasurer, who had no love affair on hand, went off; but the commander bravely held his ground, and at the end of five or six days, during which no one disturbed him, began to think the only result of the incident would be the anxiety it had caused him. Every evening as soon as it was dark he betook himself to the doctor’s, wrapped in his cloak, armed to the teeth, and his hat pulled down over his eyes. For two days and nights, Charlotte, whom to avoid confusion we shall continue to call the Chevalier de Moranges, hovered between life and death. Her youth and the strength of her constitution enabled her at last to overcome the fever, in spite of the want of skill of the surgeon Perregaud. Although de Jars was the only person who visited the chevalier, he was not the only one who was anxious about the patient’s health. Maitre Quennebert, or men engaged by him to watch, for he did not want to attract attention, were always prowling about the neighbourhood, so that he was kept well informed of everything that went on: The instructions he gave to these agents were, that if a funeral should leave the house, they were to find out the name of the deceased, and then to let him know without delay. But all these precautions seemed quite useless: he always received the same answer to all his questions, “We know nothing.” So at last he determined to address himself directly to the man who could give him information on which he could rely. One night the commander left the surgeon’s feeling more cheerful than usual, for the chevalier had passed a good day, and there was every hope that he was on the road to complete recovery. Hardly had de Jars gone twenty paces when someone laid a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw a man whom, in the darkness, he did not recognise. “Excuse me for detaining you, Commander de Jars,” said Quennebert, “but I have a word to say to you.” “Ali! so it’s you, sir,” replied the commander. “Are you going at last to give me the opportunity I was so anxious for?” “I don’t understand.” “We are on more equal terms this time; to-day you don’t catch me unprepared, almost without weapons, and if you are a man of honour you will measure swords with me.” “Fight a duel with you! why, may I ask? You have never insulted me.” “A truce to pleasantry, sir; don’t make me regret that I have shown myself more generous than you. I might have killed you just now had I wished. I could have put my pistol to your breast and fired, or said to you, ‘Surrender at discretion!’ as you so lately said to me.” “And what use would that have been?” “It would have made a secret safe that you ought never to have known.” “It would have been the most unfortunate thing for you that could have happened, for if you had killed me the paper would have spoken. So! you think that if you were to assassinate me you would only have to stoop over my dead body and search my pockets, and, having found the incriminating document, destroy it. You seem to have formed no very high opinion of my intelligence and common sense. You of the upper classes don’t need these qualities, the law is on, your side. But when a humble individual like myself, a mere nobody, undertakes to investigate a piece of business about which those in authority are not anxious to be enlightened, precautions are necessary. It’s not enough for him to have right on his side, he must, in order to secure his own safety, make good use of his skill, courage, and knowledge. I have no desire to humiliate you a second time, so I will say no more. The paper is in the hands of my notary, and if a single day passes without his seeing me he has orders to break the seal and make the contents public. So you see chance is still on my side. But now that you are warned there is no need for me to bluster. I am quite prepared to acknowledge your superior rank, and if you insist upon it, to speak to you uncovered.” “What do you desire to know, sir?” “How is the Chevalier de Moranges getting on?” “Very badly, very badly.” “Take care, commander; don’t deceive me. One is so easily tempted to believe what one hopes, and I hope so strongly that I dare not believe what you say. I saw you coming out of the house, not at all with the air of a man who had just heard bad news, (quite the contrary) you looked at the sky, and rubbed your hands, and walked with a light, quick step, that did not speak of grief.” “You’re a sharp observer, sir.” “I have already explained to you, sir, that when one of us belonging to a class hardly better than serfs succeeds by chance or force of character in getting out of the narrow bounds in which he was born, he must keep both eyes and ears open. If I had doubted your word as you have doubted mine on the merest suspicion, you would have said to your servants, ‘Chastise this rascal.’ But I am obliged to prove to you that you did not tell me the truth. Now I am sure that the chevalier is out of danger.” “If you were so well informed why did you ask me?” “I only knew it by your asserting the contrary.” “What do you mean?” cried de Jars, who was growing restive under this cold, satirical politeness. “Do me justice, commander. The bit chafes, but yet you must acknowledge that I have a light hand. For a full week you have been in my power. Have I disturbed your quiet? Have I betrayed your secret? You know I have not. And I shall continue to act in the same manner. I hope with all my heart, however great would be your grief; that the chevalier may die of his wound. I have not the same reasons for loving him that you have, so much you can readily understand, even if I do not explain the cause of my interest in his fate. But in such a matter hopes count for nothing; they cannot make his temperature either rise or fall. I have told you I have no wish to force the chevalier to resume his real name. I may make use of the document and I may not, but if I am obliged to use it I shall give you warning. Will you, in return, swear to me upon your honour that you will keep me informed as to the fate of the chevalier, whether you remain in Paris or whether you leave? But let this agreement be a secret between us, and do not mention it to the so-called Moranges.” “I have your oath, monsieur, that you will give me notice before you use the document I have given you against me, have I? But what guarantee have I that you will keep your word?” “My course of action till to-day, and the fact that I have pledged you my word of my own free will.” “I see, you hope not to have long to wait for the end.” “I hope not; but meantime a premature disclosure would do me as much harm as you. I have not the slightest rancour against you, commander; you have robbed me of no treasure; I have therefore no compensation to demand. What you place such value on would be only a burden to me, as it will be to you later on. All I want is, to know as soon as it is no longer in your possession, whether it has been removed by the will of God or by your own, I am right in thinking that to-day there is some hope of the chevalier’s recovery, am I not?” “Yes, Sir.” “Do you give me your promise that if ever he leave this house safe and sound you will let me know?” “I give you my promise.” “And if the result should be different, you will also send me word?” “Certainly. But to whom shall I address my message?” “I should have thought that since our first meeting you would have found out all about me, and that to tell you my name would be superfluous. But I have no reason to hide it: Maitre Quennebert, notary, Saint-Denis. I will not detain you any longer now, commander; excuse a simple citizen for dictating conditions to a noble such as you. For once chance has been on my side although a score of times it has gone against me.” De Jars made no reply except a nod, and walked away quickly, muttering words of suppressed anger between his teeth at all the—humiliations to which he had been obliged to submit so meekly. “He’s as insolent as a varlet who has no fear of a larruping before his eyes: how the rapscallion gloried in taking advantage of his position! Taking-off his hat while putting his foot on my neck! If ever I can be even with you, my worthy scrivener, you’ll pass a very bad quarter of an hour, I can tell you.” Everyone has his own idea of what constitutes perfect honour. De Jars, for instance, would have allowed himself to be cut up into little pieces rather than have broken the promise he had given Quennebert a week ago, because it was given in exchange for his life, and the slightest paltering with his word under those circumstances would have been dastardly. But the engagement into which he had just entered had in his eyes no such moral sanction; he had not been forced into it by threats, he had escaped by its means no serious danger, and therefore in regard to it his conscience was much more accommodating. What he should best have liked to do, would have been to have sought out the notary and provoked him by insults to send him a challenge. That a clown such as that could have any chance of leaving the ground alive never entered his head. But willingly as he would have encompassed his death in this manner, the knowledge that his secret would not die with Quennebert restrained him, for when everything came out he felt that the notary’s death would be regarded as an aggravation of his original offence, and in spite of his rank he was not at all certain that if he were put on his trial even now he would escape scot free, much less if a new offence were added to the indictment. So, however much he might chafe against the bit, he felt he must submit to the bridle. “By God!” said he, “I know what the clodhopper is after; and even if I must suffer in consequence, I shall take good care that he cannot shake off his bonds. Wait a bit! I can play the detective too, and be down on him without letting him see the hand that deals the blows. It’ll be a wonder if I can’t find a naked sword to suspend above his head.” However, while thus brooding over projects of vengeance, Commander de Jars kept his word, and about a month after the interview above related he sent word to Quennebert that the Chevalier de Moranges had left Perregaud’s completely recovered from his wound. But the nearly fatal result of the chevalier’s last prank seemed to have subdued his adventurous spirit; he was no longer seen in public, and was soon forgotten by all his acquaintances with the exception of Mademoiselle de Guerchi. She faithfully treasured up the memory of his words of passion, his looks of love, the warmth of his caresses, although at first she struggled hard to chase his image from her heart. But as the Due de Vitry assured her that he had killed him on the spot, she considered it no breach of faith to think lovingly of the dead, and while she took the goods so bounteously provided by her living lover, her gentlest thoughts, her most enduring regrets, were given to one whom she never hoped to see 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. Alexandre Dumas (2004). La Constantin. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/2749/pg2749-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.

Extraordinary series of adventures

The world of business is constantly evolving, driven by advancements in technology and changing market dynamics. Amidst this landscape, emerges as a powerful platform offering innovative solutions and opportunities for businesses. With its decentralized architecture, smart contract capabilities, and transparent ledger system, Obyte provides a fertile ground for diverse business use cases. Obyte From revolutionizing supply chain management to enabling secure transactions through smart contracts, unlocks new avenues for growth, efficiency, and profitability. In this ever-evolving business ecosystem, embracing Obyte has the power to reshape industries, foster trust, and open doors to exciting opportunities. Let’s explore some potential business use cases here. Obyte Supply Chain Management Obyte's distributed ledger technology can be leveraged to create a transparent and immutable supply chain management system. Businesses can track and verify the movement of goods, reduce counterfeit products, and ensure the authenticity and integrity of their supply chain data. Each stage of the supply chain process, These transactions are immutable and can be accessed by authorized parties, ensuring transparency and integrity throughout the supply chain. from raw material procurement to the final product delivery, can be recorded as transactions on the . Obyte platform Let's consider an example of a coffee company that sources its beans from multiple farms globally. With Obyte, each farm can record the details of their coffee beans, including origin, quality, and certifications, on a decentralized DAG (Directed Acyclic Graph). As the beans move through different stages, such as processing, packaging, and distribution, relevant information is added in the form of transactions. This includes timestamps, location data, and quality control measures. Using Obyte, the coffee company can easily track and verify the journey of their beans, ensuring that they meet the required standards and certifications. They can also provide end consumers with transparent information about the product's origin, ethical sourcing, and environmental impact. This increased transparency can build trust among consumers and differentiate any company from its competitors. Besides, by reducing counterfeit products and ensuring the authenticity of goods, The enhanced supply chain visibility provided by Obyte can also lead to more efficient inventory management, reducing costs associated with overstocking or stockouts. Additionally, improved transparency and traceability can attract consumers who value ethical sourcing and sustainable practices, potentially increasing market share and customer loyalty. the business can protect its brand reputation and avoid revenue losses due to fraudulent activities. Automated contracts and decentralized escrow Obyte offers several types of that would allow any business to automate and enforce contractual agreements without the need for intermediaries. They can be used for various purposes, such as escrow services, ensuring secure and transparent transactions, and reducing the risk of fraud. smart contracts If they’re not (a type of simple contract also available in Obyte), they ensure that transactions occur only when predefined conditions are met, providing trust and security for business interactions. It’s also possible for businesses to select an expert arbiter from the ArbStore to solve any potential dispute between parties. These contracts are self-executing and enforceable, with the terms and conditions directly written into code. prosaic An international example Let's say Company A, based in the United States, wants to purchase a batch of goods from a supplier in China (usually cheaper than other places). To ensure a smooth transaction and mitigate risks, they decide to use on the Obyte platform. a contract with arbitration Company A and the supplier agree on the terms of the purchase, including the quantity, quality standards, and delivery schedule. They create the contract with all these details on the Obyte wallet, including payment terms, conditions, and a mutually selected arbiter from the ArbStore. Once the smart contract is in place, Company A initiates the payment by depositing the agreed-upon amount into the contract in the wallet. Upon the arrival of the goods in the United States and a successful inspection by the buyer, the latter releases the funds to the supplier. The funds are then locked in the escrow until predefined conditions are met. Just in case Company A decides to misbehave and keep the funds locked, the supplier can contact the arbiter and present evidence of the situation Similarly, Company A can call the arbiter if the supplier doesn’t ship the agreed-upon goods. Then, the arbiter will decide who keeps the funds, since they have the power to release them to any of the parties. This way, both sides gain confidence in the international transaction, streamline the purchasing process, and reduce the potential for fraud. And the only costs involved are the DAG transaction fees, which are usually lower than $0.0001 in any available token. Only in the case of a dispute, an additional fee would be added to pay for the arbiter's services. Identity Verification Obyte can provide a secure and decentralized solution for identity verification and Know Your Customer (KYC) processes. , ensuring data privacy and reducing the risk of identity theft. It enables businesses to authenticate user identities without relying on centralized authorities or high costs At the same time, users could enjoy more privacy. After verifying themselves on Obyte, if it’s sufficient for the company or service they’re using, the only thing they’d have to share is , and not their personal data. the verification itself ID in a marketplace We can imagine here an example of an online marketplace that connects buyers and sellers. To ensure a safe and trustworthy environment, the marketplace implements identity verification using Obyte. When a user registers on the platform, they would need to have their own Real Name Attestation (unique ID), previously acquired through the Obyte wallet. A chatbot is available in the wallet to guide the process, and, in just a few minutes, any user can obtain their own self-sovereign ID. The user's information is cryptographically hashed and stored on the Obyte DAG, ensuring data privacy and security. providing confidence in the authenticity of each user's identity. This digital identity can be accessed by other users or businesses participating in the marketplace, For instance, a seller on the marketplace can view the verified status of a potential buyer before engaging in a transaction. This helps establish trust and reduces the risk of fraud or scams. Buyers, on the other hand, can make informed decisions based on the verified identities of sellers, ensuring a safer and more reliable shopping experience. As a key observation, according to a survey by the data firm , technology is quite needed to avoid identity fraud and protect the revenue of businesses. PMYNTS “Fraud limited international growth for 36% of companies using reactive, manual detection methods, compared to only 5% of companies using proactive, automated solutions. Companies using manual methods were also more likely to be difficult for customers to work with and to have trouble onboarding new ones.” Tokenization of Assets Obyte's tokenization capabilities enable businesses to represent physical or digital assets, such as real estate, intellectual property, or loyalty points, as tokens on the DAG. This allows for increased liquidity, fractional ownership, and efficient transfer of assets. By using the Obyte Asset Registry (no coding needed) or the numerous tools available for developers, any company can . create its own customized tokens We can use here an example of an already-existing company using Obyte this way: . They offer gold investments represented by tokens created on Obyte. As you may know, gold isn’t exactly portable, digital, or immediately liquid. To solve these issues, Aufort is representing their gold reserves with customized tokens internally. Their platform uses Obyte as a back-end system to store user balances and transactions –always visible on . Aufort the DAG Another potential use case would be a real estate company that owns multiple properties. They could decide to tokenize a commercial property using Obyte. The property is divided into digital tokens, and each token represents a fractional ownership stake in the asset. Even if it’s just $50 or less, any user would be able to buy and sell its ownership fraction on any property, regardless of the total price. The ownership and transfer of tokens are recorded on the Obyte DAG, providing transparency and immutability for businesses and individual users alike. More benefits The benefits of tokenizing the asset are twofold. Firstly, it allows the real estate company to unlock liquidity by offering investors the opportunity to buy and sell tokens representing fractional ownership. This improves access to investment opportunities and can attract a broader range of investors. Secondly, tokenization simplifies the process of transferring ownership. Instead of dealing with cumbersome paperwork and intermediaries, the transfer of tokens can be executed digitally and instantaneously, reducing administrative burdens and costs. As an extra benefit, the company can attract more investors, potentially driving up demand for tokens and increasing their value. Also, tokenization can enable the company to leverage its assets more efficiently, such as by offering rental income through tokenized properties or utilizing tokens as collateral for financing opportunities. According to by the Global Financial Markets Association (GFMA), (such as properties) by 2030. a report distributed ledger technology like Obyte could unlock access to around $16 trillion in tokenized illiquid assets Decentralized Applications The world of DApps is wide and full of possibilities, and Obyte can offer the most decentralized version of this. Developing (DApps) on the Obyte platform allows businesses to create all kinds of innovative and secure solutions. This platform provides transparency, immutability, and better user control. Decentralized Applications Let's examine an example of a financial services company that wants to develop a peer-to-peer lending platform as a DApp on Obyte. The company aims to connect borrowers and lenders directly, eliminating the need for traditional intermediaries like banks. Using Obyte's platform, the company develops a DApp that allows borrowers to create loan requests and lenders to fund those requests. The functionality of Obyte ensures that loan terms and repayment conditions are coded into the system, automating the lending process and reducing the risk of default. t Autonomous Agen Through the DApp, borrowers and lenders can interact directly, negotiate terms, and complete transactions securely. The decentralized nature of the DApp ensures transparency, as all loan transactions and repayment history are recorded on the Obyte DAG. The potential improvement in income for a company using DApps on Obyte can be substantial. By removing intermediaries and reducing operational costs, . This can attract a larger user base, increasing transaction volumes and potential revenue streams. businesses can offer more competitive interest rates to borrowers and attractive returns to lenders By taking advantage of all these , any business worldwide can improve its own systems and income sources. Obyte serves as a versatile platform that equips businesses with the tools to enhance transparency, security, efficiency, and innovation in their operations, fostering growth and success. Obyte features Featured Vector Image by / Freepik vectorjuice

Discovering the Power of Obyte: Top Business Use Cases Revealed

Descubriendo el poder de Obyte: se revelan los principales casos de uso comercial

Découvrir la puissance d'Obyte : les principaux cas d'utilisation commerciale révélés

ओबाइट की शक्ति की खोज: शीर्ष व्यावसायिक उपयोग के मामलों का खुलासा

Obyte の力の発見: 明らかになったトップのビジネス ユースケース

Descobrindo o poder do Obyte: principais casos de uso de negócios revelados

Khám phá sức mạnh của Obyte: Các trường hợp sử dụng kinh doanh hàng đầu được tiết lộ

发现 Obyte 的力量：公布的顶级业务用例

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 . The Beroldy Case XVI. The Beroldy Case Some twenty years or so before the opening of the present story, Monsieur Arnold Beroldy, a native of Lyons, arrived in Paris accompanied by his pretty wife and their little daughter, a mere babe. Monsieur Beroldy was a junior partner in a firm of wine merchants, a stout middle-aged man, fond of the good things of life, devoted to his charming wife, and altogether unremarkable in every way. The firm in which Monsieur Beroldy was a partner was a small one, and although doing well, it did not yield a large income to the junior partner. The Beroldys had a small apartment and lived in a very modest fashion to begin with. But unremarkable though Monsieur Beroldy might be, his wife was plentifully gilded with the brush of Romance. Young and good looking, and gifted withal with a singular charm of manner, Madame Beroldy at once created a stir in the quarter, especially when it began to be whispered that some interesting mystery surrounded her birth. It was rumoured that she was the illegitimate daughter of a Russian Grand Duke. Others asserted that it was an Austrian Archduke, and that the union was legal, though morganatic. But all stories agreed upon one point, that Jeanne Beroldy was the centre of an interesting mystery. Questioned by the curious, Madame Beroldy did not deny these rumours. On the other hand she let it be clearly understood that, though her “lips” were “sealed,” all these stories had a foundation in fact. To intimate friends she unburdened herself further, spoke of political intrigues, of “papers,” of obscure dangers that threatened her. There was also much talk of Crown jewels that were to be sold secretly, with herself acting as the go-between. Amongst the friends and acquaintances of the Beroldys was a young lawyer, Georges Conneau. It was soon evident that the fascinating Jeanne had completely enslaved his heart. Madame Beroldy encouraged the young man in a discreet fashion, but being always careful to affirm her complete devotion to her middle-aged husband. Nevertheless, many spiteful persons did not hesitate to declare that young Conneau was her lover—and not the only one! When the Beroldys had been in Paris about three months, another personage came upon the scene. This was Mr. Hiram P. Trapp, a native of the United States, and extremely wealthy. Introduced to the charming and mysterious Madame Beroldy, he fell a prompt victim to her fascinations. His admiration was obvious, though strictly respectful. About this time, Madame Beroldy became more outspoken in her confidences. To several friends, she declared herself greatly worried on her husband’s behalf. She explained that he had been drawn into several schemes of a political nature, and also referred to some important papers that had been entrusted to him for safekeeping and which concerned a “secret” of far reaching European importance. They had been entrusted to his custody to throw pursuers off the track, but Madame Beroldy was nervous, having recognized several important members of the Revolutionary Circle in Paris. On the 28th day of November, the blow fell. The woman who came daily to clean and cook for the Beroldys was surprised to find the door of the apartment standing wide open. Hearing faint moans issuing from the bedroom, she went in. A terrible sight met her eyes. Madame Beroldy lay on the floor, bound hand and foot, uttering feeble moans, having managed to free her mouth from a gag. On the bed was Monsieur Beroldy, lying in a pool of blood, with a knife driven through his heart. Madame Beroldy’s story was clear enough. Suddenly awakened from sleep, she had discerned two masked men bending over her. Stifling her cries, they had bound and gagged her. They had then demanded of Monsieur Beroldy the famous “secret.” But the intrepid wine merchant refused point-blank to accede to their request. Angered by his refusal, one of the men incontinently stabbed him through the heart. With the dead man’s keys, they had opened the safe in the corner, and had carried away with them a mass of papers. Both men were heavily bearded, and had worn masks, but Madame Beroldy declared positively that they were Russians. The affair created an immense sensation. It was referred to variously as “the Nihilist Atrocity,” “Revolutionaries in Paris,” and the “Russian Mystery.” Time went on, and the mysterious bearded men were never traced. And then, just as public interest was beginning to die down, a startling development occurred. Madame Beroldy was arrested and charged with the murder of her husband. The trial, when it came on, aroused widespread interest. The youth and beauty of the accused, and her mysterious history, were sufficient to make of it a cause célèbre. People ranged themselves wildly for or against the prisoner. But her partisans received several severe checks to their enthusiasm. The romantic past of Madame Beroldy, her royal blood, and the mysterious intrigues in which she had her being were shown to be mere fantasies of the imagination. It was proved beyond doubt that Jeanne Beroldy’s parents were a highly respectable and prosaic couple, fruit merchants, who lived on the outskirts of Lyons. The Russian Grand Duke, the court intrigues, and the political schemes—all the stories current were traced back to—the lady herself! From her brain had emanated these ingenious myths, and she was proved to have raised a considerable sum of money from various credulous persons by her fiction of the “Crown jewels”—the jewels in question being found to be mere paste imitations. Remorselessly the whole story of her life was laid bare. The motive for the murder was found in Mr. Hiram P. Trapp. Mr. Trapp did his best, but relentlessly and agilely cross-questioned he was forced to admit that he loved the lady, and that, had she been free, he would have asked her to be his wife. The fact that the relations between them were admittedly platonic strengthened the case against the accused. Debarred from becoming his mistress by the simple honourable nature of the man, Jeanne Beroldy had conceived the monstrous project of ridding herself of her elderly undistinguished husband, and becoming the wife of the rich American. Throughout, Madame Beroldy confronted her accusers with complete sang froid and self possession. Her story never varied. She continued to declare strenuously that she was of royal birth, and that she had been substituted for the daughter of the fruit seller at an early age. Absurd and completely unsubstantiated as these statements were, a great number of people believed implicitly in their truth. But the prosecution was implacable. It denounced the masked “Russians” as a myth, and asserted that the crime had been committed by Madame Beroldy and her lover, Georges Conneau. A warrant was issued for the arrest of the latter, but he had wisely disappeared. Evidence showed that the bonds which secured Madame Beroldy were so loose that she could easily have freed herself. And then, towards the close of the trial, a letter, posted in Paris, was sent to the Public Prosecutor. It was from Georges Conneau and, without revealing his whereabouts, it contained a full confession of the crime. He declared that he had indeed struck the fatal blow at Madame Beroldy’s instigation. The crime had been planned between them. Believing that her husband ill-treated her, and maddened by his own passion for her, a passion which he believed her to return, he had planned the crime and struck the fatal blow that should free the woman he loved from a hateful bondage. Now, for the first time, he learnt of Mr. Hiram P. Trapp, and realized that the woman he loved had betrayed him! Not for his sake did she wish to be free—but in order to marry the wealthy American. She had used him as a cat’s-paw, and now, in his jealous rage, he turned and denounced her, declaring that throughout he had acted at her instigation. And then Madame Beroldy proved herself the remarkable woman she undoubtedly was. Without hesitation, she dropped her previous defence, and admitted that the “Russians” were a pure invention on her part. The real murderer was Georges Conneau. Maddened by passion, he had committed the crime, vowing that if she did not keep silence he would enact a terrible vengeance from her. Terrified by his threats, she had consented—also fearing it likely that if she told the truth she might be accused of conniving at the crime. But she had steadfastly refused to have anything more to do with her husband’s murderer, and it was in revenge for this attitude on her part that he had written this letter accusing her. She swore solemnly that she had had nothing to do with the planning of the crime, that she had awoke on that memorable night to find Georges Conneau standing over her, the blood-stained knife in his hand. It was a touch and go affair. Madame Beroldy’s story was hardly credible. But this woman, whose fairy tales of royal intrigues had been so easily accepted, had the supreme art of making herself believed. Her address to the jury was a masterpiece. The tears streaming down her face, she spoke of her child, of her woman’s honour—of her desire to keep her reputation untarnished for the child’s sake. She admitted that, Georges Conneau having been her lover, she might perhaps be held morally responsible for the crime—but, before God, nothing more! She knew that she had committed a grave fault in not denouncing Conneau to the law, but she declared in a broken voice that that was a thing no woman could have done. … She had loved him! Could she let her hand be the one to send him to the Guillotine? She had been guilty of much, but she was innocent of the terrible crime imputed to her. However that may have been, her eloquence and personality won the day. Madame Beroldy, amidst a scene of unparalleled excitement, was acquitted. Despite the utmost endeavours of the police, Georges Conneau was never traced. As for Madame Beroldy, nothing more was heard of her. Taking the child with her, she left Paris to begin a new life. 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.

The Beroldy Case

Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . An Epoch in Anne’s Life CHAPTER XXIX. An Epoch in Anne’s Life ANNE was bringing the cows home from the back pasture by way of Lover’s Lane. It was a September evening and all the gaps and clearings in the woods were brimmed up with ruby sunset light. Here and there the lane was splashed with it, but for the most part it was already quite shadowy beneath the maples, and the spaces under the firs were filled with a clear violet dusk like airy wine. The winds were out in their tops, and there is no sweeter music on earth than that which the wind makes in the fir trees at evening. The cows swung placidly down the lane, and Anne followed them dreamily, repeating aloud the battle canto from Marmion—which had also been part of their English course the preceding winter and which Miss Stacy had made them learn off by heart—and exulting in its rushing lines and the clash of spears in its imagery. When she came to the lines The stubborn spearsmen still made good Their dark impenetrable wood, she stopped in ecstasy to shut her eyes that she might the better fancy herself one of that heroic ring. When she opened them again it was to behold Diana coming through the gate that led into the Barry field and looking so important that Anne instantly divined there was news to be told. But betray too eager curiosity she would not. “Isn’t this evening just like a purple dream, Diana? It makes me so glad to be alive. In the mornings I always think the mornings are best; but when evening comes I think it’s lovelier still.” “It’s a very fine evening,” said Diana, “but oh, I have such news, Anne. Guess. You can have three guesses.” “Charlotte Gillis is going to be married in the church after all and Mrs. Allan wants us to decorate it,” cried Anne. “No. Charlotte’s beau won’t agree to that, because nobody ever has been married in the church yet, and he thinks it would seem too much like a funeral. It’s too mean, because it would be such fun. Guess again.” “Jane’s mother is going to let her have a birthday party?” Diana shook her head, her black eyes dancing with merriment. “I can’t think what it can be,” said Anne in despair, “unless it’s that Moody Spurgeon MacPherson saw you home from prayer meeting last night. Did he?” “I should think not,” exclaimed Diana indignantly. “I wouldn’t be likely to boast of it if he did, the horrid creature! I knew you couldn’t guess it. Mother had a letter from Aunt Josephine today, and Aunt Josephine wants you and me to go to town next Tuesday and stop with her for the Exhibition. There!” “Oh, Diana,” whispered Anne, finding it necessary to lean up against a maple tree for support, “do you really mean it? But I’m afraid Marilla won’t let me go. She will say that she can’t encourage gadding about. That was what she said last week when Jane invited me to go with them in their double-seated buggy to the American concert at the White Sands Hotel. I wanted to go, but Marilla said I’d be better at home learning my lessons and so would Jane. I was bitterly disappointed, Diana. I felt so heartbroken that I wouldn’t say my prayers when I went to bed. But I repented of that and got up in the middle of the night and said them.” “I’ll tell you,” said Diana, “we’ll get Mother to ask Marilla. She’ll be more likely to let you go then; and if she does we’ll have the time of our lives, Anne. I’ve never been to an Exhibition, and it’s so aggravating to hear the other girls talking about their trips. Jane and Ruby have been twice, and they’re going this year again.” “I’m not going to think about it at all until I know whether I can go or not,” said Anne resolutely. “If I did and then was disappointed, it would be more than I could bear. But in case I do go I’m very glad my new coat will be ready by that time. Marilla didn’t think I needed a new coat. She said my old one would do very well for another winter and that I ought to be satisfied with having a new dress. The dress is very pretty, Diana—navy blue and made so fashionably. Marilla always makes my dresses fashionably now, because she says she doesn’t intend to have Matthew going to Mrs. Lynde to make them. I’m so glad. It is ever so much easier to be good if your clothes are fashionable. At least, it is easier for me. I suppose it doesn’t make such a difference to naturally good people. But Matthew said I must have a new coat, so Marilla bought a lovely piece of blue broadcloth, and it’s being made by a real dressmaker over at Carmody. It’s to be done Saturday night, and I’m trying not to imagine myself walking up the church aisle on Sunday in my new suit and cap, because I’m afraid it isn’t right to imagine such things. But it just slips into my mind in spite of me. My cap is so pretty. Matthew bought it for me the day we were over at Carmody. It is one of those little blue velvet ones that are all the rage, with gold cord and tassels. Your new hat is elegant, Diana, and so becoming. When I saw you come into church last Sunday my heart swelled with pride to think you were my dearest friend. Do you suppose it’s wrong for us to think so much about our clothes? Marilla says it is very sinful. But it is such an interesting subject, isn’t it?” Marilla agreed to let Anne go to town, and it was arranged that Mr. Barry should take the girls in on the following Tuesday. As Charlottetown was thirty miles away and Mr. Barry wished to go and return the same day, it was necessary to make a very early start. But Anne counted it all joy, and was up before sunrise on Tuesday morning. A glance from her window assured her that the day would be fine, for the eastern sky behind the firs of the Haunted Wood was all silvery and cloudless. Through the gap in the trees a light was shining in the western gable of Orchard Slope, a token that Diana was also up. Anne was dressed by the time Matthew had the fire on and had the breakfast ready when Marilla came down, but for her own part was much too excited to eat. After breakfast the jaunty new cap and jacket were donned, and Anne hastened over the brook and up through the firs to Orchard Slope. Mr. Barry and Diana were waiting for her, and they were soon on the road. It was a long drive, but Anne and Diana enjoyed every minute of it. It was delightful to rattle along over the moist roads in the early red sunlight that was creeping across the shorn harvest fields. The air was fresh and crisp, and little smoke-blue mists curled through the valleys and floated off from the hills. Sometimes the road went through woods where maples were beginning to hang out scarlet banners; sometimes it crossed rivers on bridges that made Anne’s flesh cringe with the old, half-delightful fear; sometimes it wound along a harbor shore and passed by a little cluster of weather-gray fishing huts; again it mounted to hills whence a far sweep of curving upland or misty-blue sky could be seen; but wherever it went there was much of interest to discuss. It was almost noon when they reached town and found their way to “Beechwood.” It was quite a fine old mansion, set back from the street in a seclusion of green elms and branching beeches. Miss Barry met them at the door with a twinkle in her sharp black eyes. “So you’ve come to see me at last, you Anne-girl,” she said. “Mercy, child, how you have grown! You’re taller than I am, I declare. And you’re ever so much better looking than you used to be, too. But I dare say you know that without being told.” “Indeed I didn’t,” said Anne radiantly. “I know I’m not so freckled as I used to be, so I’ve much to be thankful for, but I really hadn’t dared to hope there was any other improvement. I’m so glad you think there is, Miss Barry.” Miss Barry’s house was furnished with “great magnificence,” as Anne told Marilla afterward. The two little country girls were rather abashed by the splendor of the parlor where Miss Barry left them when she went to see about dinner. “Isn’t it just like a palace?” whispered Diana. “I never was in Aunt Josephine’s house before, and I’d no idea it was so grand. I just wish Julia Bell could see this—she puts on such airs about her mother’s parlor.” “Velvet carpet,” sighed Anne luxuriously, “and silk curtains! I’ve dreamed of such things, Diana. But do you know I don’t believe I feel very comfortable with them after all. There are so many things in this room and all so splendid that there is no scope for imagination. That is one consolation when you are poor—there are so many more things you can imagine about.” Their sojourn in town was something that Anne and Diana dated from for years. From first to last it was crowded with delights. On Wednesday Miss Barry took them to the Exhibition grounds and kept them there all day. “It was splendid,” Anne related to Marilla later on. “I never imagined anything so interesting. I don’t really know which department was the most interesting. I think I liked the horses and the flowers and the fancywork best. Josie Pye took first prize for knitted lace. I was real glad she did. And I was glad that I felt glad, for it shows I’m improving, don’t you think, Marilla, when I can rejoice in Josie’s success? Mr. Harmon Andrews took second prize for Gravenstein apples and Mr. Bell took first prize for a pig. Diana said she thought it was ridiculous for a Sunday-school superintendent to take a prize in pigs, but I don’t see why. Do you? She said she would always think of it after this when he was praying so solemnly. Clara Louise MacPherson took a prize for painting, and Mrs. Lynde got first prize for homemade butter and cheese. So Avonlea was pretty well represented, wasn’t it? Mrs. Lynde was there that day, and I never knew how much I really liked her until I saw her familiar face among all those strangers. There were thousands of people there, Marilla. It made me feel dreadfully insignificant. And Miss Barry took us up to the grandstand to see the horse races. Mrs. Lynde wouldn’t go; she said horse racing was an abomination and, she being a church member, thought it her bounden duty to set a good example by staying away. But there were so many there I don’t believe Mrs. Lynde’s absence would ever be noticed. I don’t think, though, that I ought to go very often to horse races, because they are awfully fascinating. Diana got so excited that she offered to bet me ten cents that the red horse would win. I didn’t believe he would, but I refused to bet, because I wanted to tell Mrs. Allan all about everything, and I felt sure it wouldn’t do to tell her that. It’s always wrong to do anything you can’t tell the minister’s wife. It’s as good as an extra conscience to have a minister’s wife for your friend. And I was very glad I didn’t bet, because the red horse did win, and I would have lost ten cents. So you see that virtue was its own reward. We saw a man go up in a balloon. I’d love to go up in a balloon, Marilla; it would be simply thrilling; and we saw a man selling fortunes. You paid him ten cents and a little bird picked out your fortune for you. Miss Barry gave Diana and me ten cents each to have our fortunes told. Mine was that I would marry a dark-complected man who was very wealthy, and I would go across water to live. I looked carefully at all the dark men I saw after that, but I didn’t care much for any of them, and anyhow I suppose it’s too early to be looking out for him yet. Oh, it was a never-to-be-forgotten day, Marilla. I was so tired I couldn’t sleep at night. Miss Barry put us in the spare room, according to promise. It was an elegant room, Marilla, but somehow sleeping in a spare room isn’t what I used to think it was. That’s the worst of growing up, and I’m beginning to realize it. The things you wanted so much when you were a child don’t seem half so wonderful to you when you get them.” Thursday the girls had a drive in the park, and in the evening Miss Barry took them to a concert in the Academy of Music, where a noted prima donna was to sing. To Anne the evening was a glittering vision of delight. “Oh, Marilla, it was beyond description. I was so excited I couldn’t even talk, so you may know what it was like. I just sat in enraptured silence. Madame Selitsky was perfectly beautiful, and wore white satin and diamonds. But when she began to sing I never thought about anything else. Oh, I can’t tell you how I felt. But it seemed to me that it could never be hard to be good any more. I felt like I do when I look up to the stars. Tears came into my eyes, but, oh, they were such happy tears. I was so sorry when it was all over, and I told Miss Barry I didn’t see how I was ever to return to common life again. She said she thought if we went over to the restaurant across the street and had an ice cream it might help me. That sounded so prosaic; but to my surprise I found it true. The ice cream was delicious, Marilla, and it was so lovely and dissipated to be sitting there eating it at eleven o’clock at night. Diana said she believed she was born for city life. Miss Barry asked me what my opinion was, but I said I would have to think it over very seriously before I could tell her what I really thought. So I thought it over after I went to bed. That is the best time to think things out. And I came to the conclusion, Marilla, that I wasn’t born for city life and that I was glad of it. It’s nice to be eating ice cream at brilliant restaurants at eleven o’clock at night once in a while; but as a regular thing I’d rather be in the east gable at eleven, sound asleep, but kind of knowing even in my sleep that the stars were shining outside and that the wind was blowing in the firs across the brook. I told Miss Barry so at breakfast the next morning and she laughed. Miss Barry generally laughed at anything I said, even when I said the most solemn things. I don’t think I liked it, Marilla, because I wasn’t trying to be funny. But she is a most hospitable lady and treated us royally.” Friday brought going-home time, and Mr. Barry drove in for the girls. “Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed yourselves,” said Miss Barry, as she bade them good-bye. “Indeed we have,” said Diana. “And you, Anne-girl?” “I’ve enjoyed every minute of the time,” said Anne, throwing her arms impulsively about the old woman’s neck and kissing her wrinkled cheek. Diana would never have dared to do such a thing and felt rather aghast at Anne’s freedom. But Miss Barry was pleased, and she stood on her veranda and watched the buggy out of sight. Then she went back into her big house with a sigh. It seemed very lonely, lacking those fresh young lives. Miss Barry was a rather selfish old lady, if the truth must be told, and had never cared much for anybody but herself. She valued people only as they were of service to her or amused her. Anne had amused her, and consequently stood high in the old lady’s good graces. But Miss Barry found herself thinking less about Anne’s quaint speeches than of her fresh enthusiasms, her transparent emotions, her little winning ways, and the sweetness of her eyes and lips. “I thought Marilla Cuthbert was an old fool when I heard she’d adopted a girl out of an orphan asylum,” she said to herself, “but I guess she didn’t make much of a mistake after all. If I’d a child like Anne in the house all the time I’d be a better and happier woman.” Anne and Diana found the drive home as pleasant as the drive in—pleasanter, indeed, since there was the delightful consciousness of home waiting at the end of it. It was sunset when they passed through White Sands and turned into the shore road. Beyond, the Avonlea hills came out darkly against the saffron sky. Behind them the moon was rising out of the sea that grew all radiant and transfigured in her light. Every little cove along the curving road was a marvel of dancing ripples. The waves broke with a soft swish on the rocks below them, and the tang of the sea was in the strong, fresh air. “Oh, but it’s good to be alive and to be going home,” breathed Anne. When she crossed the log bridge over the brook the kitchen light of Green Gables winked her a friendly welcome back, and through the open door shone the hearth fire, sending out its warm red glow athwart the chilly autumn night. Anne ran blithely up the hill and into the kitchen, where a hot supper was waiting on the table. “So you’ve got back?” said Marilla, folding up her knitting. “Yes, and oh, it’s so good to be back,” said Anne joyously. “I could kiss everything, even to the clock. Marilla, a broiled chicken! You don’t mean to say you cooked that for me!” “Yes, I did,” said Marilla. “I thought you’d be hungry after such a drive and need something real appetizing. Hurry and take off your things, and we’ll have supper as soon as Matthew comes in. I’m glad you’ve got back, I must say. It’s been fearful lonesome here without you, and I never put in four longer days.” After supper Anne sat before the fire between Matthew and Marilla, and gave them a full account of her visit. “I’ve had a splendid time,” she concluded happily, “and I feel that it marks an epoch in my life. But the best of it all was the coming home.” 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. L. M. Montgomery (2008). Anne of Green Gables. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/45/pg45-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 lead image was generated using HackerNoon's Stable Disffusion Al Image Generator feature, via the prompt "Anne of Green Fables".

An Epoch in Anne’s Life

Emily of New Moon by L. M. Montgomery, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Growing Pains CHAPTER X. Growing Pains THERE was a great deal of suppressed excitement in school during the last week in June, the cause thereof being Rhoda Stuart’s birthday party, which was to take place early in July. The amount of heart burning was incredible. Who was to be invited? That was the great question. There were some who knew they wouldn’t and some who knew they would; but there were more who were in truly horrible suspense. Everybody paid court to Emily because she was Rhoda’s dearest friend and might conceivably have some voice in the selection of guests. Jennie Strang even went as far as bluntly to offer Emily a beautiful white box with a gorgeous picture of Queen Victoria on the cover, to keep her pencils in, if she would procure her an invitation. Emily refused the bribe and said grandly that she could not interfere in such a delicate matter. Emily really did put on some airs about it. was sure of her invitation. Rhoda had told her about the party weeks before and had talked it all over with her. It was to be a very grand affair—a birthday cake covered with pink icing and adorned with ten tall pink candles—ice-cream and oranges—and written invitations on pink, gilt-edged notepaper —this last being an added touch of exclusiveness. Emily dreamed about that party day and night and had her present all ready for Rhoda—a pretty hair ribbon which Aunt Laura had brought from Shrewsbury. She sent through the post-office On the first Sunday in July Emily found herself sitting beside Jennie Strang in Sunday School for the opening exercises. Generally she and Rhoda sat together, but now Rhoda was sitting three seats ahead with a strange little girl—a very gay and gorgeous little girl, dressed in blue silk, with a large, flower-wreathed leghorn hat on her elaborately curled hair, white lace-work stockings on her pudgy legs and a bang that came clean down to her eyes. Not all her fine feathers could make a really fine bird of her, however; she was not in the least pretty and her expression was cross and contemptuous. “Who is the girl sitting with Rhoda?” whispered Emily. “Oh, she’s Muriel Porter,” answered Jennie. “She’s a towny, you know. She’s come out to spend her vacation with her aunt, Jane Beatty. I hate her. If I was her I’d never of wearing blue with a skin as dark as hers. But the Porters are rich and Muriel thinks she’s a wonder. They say Rhoda and her have been since she came out—Rhoda’s always chasing after anybody she thinks is up in the world.” dream awful thick Emily stiffened up. She was not going to listen to disparaging remarks about her friends. Jennie felt the stiffening and changed her note. “Anyway, I’m I’m not invited to Rhoda’s old party. I wouldn’t to go when Muriel Porter will be there, putting on her airs.” glad want “How do you know you are not invited?” wondered Emily. “Why, the invitations went out yesterday. Didn’t you get yours?” “No—o—o.” “Did you get your mail?” “Yes—Cousin Jimmy got it.” “Well, maybe Mrs. Beecher forgot to give it to him. Likely you’ll get it to-morrow.” Emily agreed that it was likely. But a queer cold sensation of dismay had invaded her being, which was not removed by the fact that after Sunday School Rhoda strutted away with Muriel Porter without a glance at any one else. On Monday Emily herself went to the post-office, but there was no pink envelope for her. She cried herself to sleep that night, but did not quite give up hope until Tuesday had passed. Then she faced the terrible truth—that she—she, Emily Byrd Starr, of New Moon—had not been invited to Rhoda’s party. The thing was incredible. There be a mistake somewhere. Had Cousin Jimmy lost the invitation on the road home? Had Rhoda’s grown-up sister who wrote the invitations overlooked her name? Had,—Emily’s unhappy doubts were forever resolved into bitter certainty by Jennie, who joined her as she left the post-office. There was a malicious light in Jennie’s beady eyes. Jennie liked Emily quite well by now, in spite of their passage-at-arms on the day of their first meeting, but she liked to see her pride humbled for all that. must “So you’re not invited to Rhoda’s party after all.” “No,” admitted Emily. It was a very bitter moment for her. The Murray pride was sorely wrung—and, beneath the Murray pride, something else had been grievously wounded but was not yet quite dead. “Well, I call it dirt mean,” said Jennie, quite honestly sympathetic in spite of her secret satisfaction. “After all the fuss she’s made over you, too! But that’s Rhoda Stuart all over. Deceitful is no name for .” her “I don’t think she’s deceitful,” said Emily, loyal to the last ditch. “I believe there’s some mistake about my not being invited.” Jennie stared. “Then you don’t know the reason? Why, Beth Beatty told me the whole story. Muriel Porter hates you and she just up and told Rhoda that she would not go to her party if you were invited. And Rhoda was so crazy to have a town girl there that she promised she wouldn’t invite you.” “Muriel Porter doesn’t know me,” gasped Emily. “How can she hate me?” Jennie grinned impishly. “ can tell you. She’s on Fred Stuart and Fred knows it and he teased her by praising up to her—told her you were the sweetest girl in Blair Water and he meant to have you for when you were a little older. And Muriel was so mad and jealous she made Rhoda leave you out. wouldn’t care if I was you. A Murray of New Moon is away above such trash. As for Rhoda not being deceitful, I can tell you she . Why, she told you that she didn’t know that snake was in the box, when it was her thought of doing it in the first place.” I dead stuck you his girl I is Emily was too crushed to reply. She was glad that Jennie had to switch off down her own lane and leave her alone. She hurried home, afraid that she could not keep the tears back until she got there. Disappointment about the party—humiliation over the insult—all were swallowed up in the anguish of a faith betrayed and a trust outraged. Her love of Rhoda was quite dead now and Emily smarted to the core of her soul with the pain of the blow that had killed it. It was a child’s tragedy—and all the more bitter for that, since there was no one to understand. Aunt Elizabeth told her that birthday parties were all nonsense and that the Stuarts were not a family that the Murrays had ever associated with. And even Aunt Laura, though she petted and comforted, did not realize how deep and grievous the hurt had been—so deep and grievous that Emily could not even write about it to her father, and had no outlet for the violence of emotion that racked her being. The next Sunday Rhoda was alone in Sunday School, Muriel Porter having been suddenly summoned back to town by her father’s illness; and Rhoda looked sweetly towards Emily. But Emily sailed past her with a head held very high and scorn on every lineament. She would have anything to do with Rhoda Stuart again—she couldn’t. She despised Rhoda more than ever for trying to get back with her, now that the town girl for whom she had sacrificed her was gone. It was not for Rhoda she mourned—it was for the friendship that had been so dear to her. Rhoda been dear and sweet on the surface at least, and Emily had found intense happiness in their companionship. Now it was gone and she could never, love or trust anybody again. lay the sting. never had never There It poisoned everything. Emily was of a nature which, even as a child, did not readily recover from or forget such a blow. She moped about New Moon, lost her appetite and grew thin. She hated to go to Sunday School because she thought the other girls exulted in her humiliation and her estrangement from Rhoda. Some slight feeling of the kind there was, perhaps, but Emily morbidly exaggerated it. If two girls whispered or giggled together she thought she was being discussed and laughed at. If one of them walked home with her she thought it was out of condescending pity because she was friendless. For a month Emily was the most unhappy little being in Blair Water. “I think I must have been put under a curse at birth,” she reflected disconsolately. Aunt Elizabeth had a more prosaic idea to account for Emily’s languor and lack of appetite. She had come to the conclusion that Emily’s heavy masses of hair “took from her strength” and that she would be much stronger and better if it were cut off. With Aunt Elizabeth to decide was to act. One morning she coolly informed Emily that her hair was to be “shingled.” Emily could not believe her ears. “You don’t mean that you are going to cut off my hair, Aunt Elizabeth,” she exclaimed. “Yes, I mean exactly that,” said Aunt Elizabeth firmly. “You have entirely too much hair especially for hot weather. I feel sure that is why you have been so miserable lately. Now, I don’t want any crying.” But Emily could not keep the tears back. “Don’t cut it off,” she pleaded. “Just cut a good big bang. Lots of the girls have their hair banged clean from the crown of their heads. That would take half my hair off and the rest won’t take too much strength.” all “There will be no bangs here,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “I’ve told you so often enough. I’m going to shingle your hair close all over your head for the hot weather. You’ll be thankful to me some day for it.” Emily felt anything but thankful just then. “It’s my one beauty,” she sobbed, “it and my lashes. I suppose you want to cut off my lashes too.” Aunt Elizabeth distrust those long, upcurled fringes of Emily’s, which were an inheritance from the girlish stepmother, and too un-Murray-like to be approved; but she had no designs against them. The hair must go, however, and she curtly bade Emily wait there, without any fuss, until she got the scissors. did Emily waited—quite hopelessly. She must lose her lovely hair—the hair her father had been so proud of. It might grow again in time—if Aunt Elizabeth let it—but that would take years, and meanwhile what a fright she would be! Aunt Laura and Cousin Jimmy were out; she had no one to back her up; this horrible thing must happen. Aunt Elizabeth returned with the scissors; they clicked suggestively as she opened them; that click, as if by magic, seemed to loosen something—some strange formidable power in Emily’s soul. She turned deliberately around and faced her aunt. She felt her brows drawing together in an unaccustomed way—she felt an uprush as from unknown depths of some irresistible surge of energy. “Aunt Elizabeth,” she said, looking straight at the lady with the scissors, “ . Let me hear no more of this.” my hair is not going to be cut off An amazing thing happened to Aunt Elizabeth. She turned pale—she laid the scissors down—she looked aghast for one moment at the transformed or possessed child before her—and then for the first time in her life Elizabeth Murray turned tail and fled—literally fled—to the kitchen. “What is the matter, Elizabeth?” cried Laura, coming in from the cook-house. “I saw—Father—looking from her face,” gasped Elizabeth, trembling. “And she said, ‘Let me hear no more of this,’—just as always said it—his very words.” he Emily overheard her and ran to the sideboard mirror. She had had, while she was speaking, an uncanny feeling of wearing somebody else’s face instead of her own. It was vanishing now—but Emily caught a glimpse of it as it left—the Murray look, she supposed. No wonder it had frightened Aunt Elizabeth—it frightened herself—she was glad that it had gone. She shivered—she fled to her garret retreat and cried; but somehow, she knew that her hair would not be cut. Nor was it; Aunt Elizabeth never referred to the matter again. But several days passed before she meddled much with Emily. It was a rather curious fact that from that day Emily ceased to grieve over her lost friend. The matter had suddenly become of small importance. It was as if it had happened so long ago that nothing, save the mere emotionless memory of it, remained. Emily speedily regained appetite and animation, resumed her letters to her father and found that life tasted good again, marred only by a mysterious prescience that Aunt Elizabeth had it in for her in regard to her defeat in the matter of her hair and would get even sooner or later. Aunt Elizabeth “got even” within the week. Emily was to go on an errand to the shop. It was a broiling day and she had been allowed to go barefooted at home; but now she must put on boots and stockings. Emily rebelled—it was too hot—it was too dusty—she couldn’t walk that long half-mile in buttoned boots. Aunt Elizabeth was inexorable. No Murray must be seen barefooted away from home—and on they went. But the minute Emily was outside the New Moon gate she deliberately sat down, took them off, stowed them in a hole in the dyke, and pranced away barefooted. She did her errand and returned with an untroubled conscience. How beautiful the world was—how softly blue was the great, round Blair Water—how glorious that miracle of buttercups in the wet field below Lofty John’s bush! At sight of it Emily stood stock still and composed a verse of poetry. “Buttercup, flower of the yellow dye, I see thy cheerful face Greeting and nodding everywhere Careless of time and place. “In boggy field or public road Or cultured garden’s pale You sport your petals satin-soft, And down within the vale.” So far, so good. But Emily wanted another verse to round the poem off properly and the divine afflatus seemed gone. She walked dreamily home, and by the time she reached New Moon she had got her verse and was reciting it to herself with an agreeable sense of completion. “You cast your loveliness around Where’er you chance to be, And you shall always, buttercup, Be a flower dear to me.” Emily felt very proud. This was her third poem and undoubtedly her best. Nobody could say was very blank. She must hurry up to the garret and write it on a letter-bill. But Aunt Elizabeth was confronting her on the steps. it “Emily, where are your boots and stockings?” Emily came back from cloudland with a disagreeable jolt. She had forgotten all about boots and stockings. “In the hole by the gate,” she said flatly. “You went to the store barefooted?” “Yes.” “After I had told you not to?” This seemed to Emily a superfluous question and she did not answer it. But Aunt Elizabeth’s turn had come. 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. L. M. Montgomery (2020). Emily of New Moon. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/61236/pg61236-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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