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UpGirl

The wait is over! - it’s time to celebrate the champion startups of the world. Shout out to all of the participants in our ! You did a wonderful job showcasing your incredible startups and powering through another year. 2023 Startups of the Year is a community-driven voting platform brought to you by HackerNoon that recognizes and celebrates tech startups changing technology and the world for the better. The award started on May 8th, 2023, where the internet nominated and voted for 30k startups around the world. The voting period remained open until December 31, 2023, and now we are here with the winner announcement after a comprehensive evaluation by the HackerNoon team. Startups of the Year 2023 To see the top 3 startups in each respective city, visit and pick a city. hackernoon.com/startups You’ll get a little surprise 😉 Here are the Startups of the Year Regional Announcements: North America Europe Asia Africa South America Oceania Misc/Remote From all of us at HackerNoon, thank YOU for your excellent campaign perseverance 🥺 This year has been awesome! Startups of the Year 2023 is concluded with 623k+ total votes, up from 215k+ votes in the inaugural startup competition. We look forward to seeing you again in the next campaign (stay tuned 😉)! Without further ado, let us kick off the announcement by celebrating the cities with top votes per region for 2023 🎉 North America (11,697 votes): Winner: Bloomfilter Cleveland, Ohio (8,835 votes) - Winner: SerpApi Austin, Texas , California (5,564 votes) - Winner: Finch San Francisco (4,258 votes) - Winner: RELAYTO SoMa, California - (3339 votes) Winner: Windscribe Toronto, Canada, North America (3304 votes) - Winner: Vouched Seattle (2716 votes) - Winner: Seccuri Palo Alto, CA, North America (2671 votes) - Winner: Salsa Valley Miami, FL, North America (2,613 votes) - Winner: Majhi Group Manhattan, New York (2423 votes) - Winner: Flieber, Inc. New York City, NY, North America See the complete announcement for the . Startups of the Year, North America, here Europe (45,612 votes) - Winner: Algomo London, UK (2,344votes) - Winner: Data Lake Warsaw, Poland (1,955 votes) - Winner: Hoken Tech Bari, Italy (1716 votes) - Winner: Not8 Amsterdam, Netherlands (1657 votes) - Winner: KYVE Frankfurt Am Main, Germany (1566 votes) - Winner: BazaIT Kyiv, Ukraine (1496 votes) - Winner:  Unity Network Tallinn, Estonia (1,478 votes) - Winner: Volcaino Ghent, Belgium (1,288 votes) - Winner: Owl Me Dublin, Ireland (1198 votes) - Winner: Groover Paris, France See the complete announcement for the . Startups of the Year, Europe, here Oceania (3,350 votes) - Winner: Sharepass Melbourne (2,107 votes) - Winner: The Catfisher Project Perth, Australia (220 votes) - Winner: Gemini AI Solutions Auckland, New Zealand, Oceania (213 votes) - Winner: Nexustorage Wellington, New Zealand, Oceania (138 votes) - Winner: Coviu Sydney (124 votes) - Winner: Bopple Brisbane, Australia, Oceania (124 votes) - Winner: Regional CFO New South Wales, Australia, Oceania (106 votes) - Winner: Edit on the Spot Gold Coast, Australia, Oceania (93 votes) - Winner: Knowledge Satnav Canbera, Australia, Oceania , Australia, Oceania (48 votes) - Winner: Peptalk360 North Melbourne, Melbourne See the complete announcement for the . Startups of the Year, Oceania, here Asia (16,345 votes) - Winner: Serenity Shield Singapore (13,588 votes) - Winners: QUIXY Telangana, India (10,168 votes) - Winner: HealthySure Mumbai, India (3,865 votes) - Winner: InterviewBuddy Visakhapatnam, India (3,733 votes) - Winner: Omniflo Bengaluru, India (4589 votes) - Winner: MeNow Tel Aviv (3877 votes) - Winner: ForestVPN Dubai (2478 votes) - Winner: TechGraph Powai, Mumbai, India (1004 votes) - Winner: Reelo Ahmedabad, GJ, India (875 votes) - Winner: Debt Hunter Hong Kong, China See the complete announcement for the . Startups of the Year, Asia, here Africa (8,179 votes) - Winner: GO PLATFORM Algiers, Algeria (767 votes) - Winner: Tudu Accra, Ghana (415 votes) - Winner: Treford Lagos, Nigeria (265 votes) - Winner: Phalconwise Ogbomosho, Nigeria (157 votes) - Winner: AbuErdan Cairo (151 votes) - Winner: Eazipay Lekki (144 votes) - Winner: KaziConnect Dar es Salaam, Tanzania (101 votes) - Winner: faceATT Gauteng, South Africa (79 votes) - Winner: Dimagi Cape Town (71 votes) - Winner: Sabi Addis Ababa See the complete announcement for the . Startups of the Year, Africa, here South America (376 votes ) - Winner: UpGirl Santiago, Chile (217 votes) - Winner: Klever Sao Paulo, Brazil (191 votes) - Winner: Tributo Simple Buenos Aires, Argentina (127 votes) - Winner: Light-it Montevideo, Uruguay (87 votes) -Winner: Thousand Antioquia, Colombia (108 votes) - Winner: GetLavado Lima (101 votes) - Winner: Cogniflow Medellin (73 votes) - Winner: TPAGA Bogota (73 votes) - Winner: Reliv Quito (47 votes) - WInner: Quantex Cordoba See the complete announcement for the . Startups of the Year, South America, here Misc/Remote: Featured Startups (1500 votes) - Winner: CIC Chain Remote, Earth (1193 votes) - Winner: Reship Colony US Misc (146 Votes) - Winner: Partful UK, Misc (116 votes) - Winner: GoMining British Virgin Islands Misc (283 Votes) - Winner: tomorrowSpace Germany Misc (225 votes) - Winner: Dtravel Cayman Islands See the complete announcement for Misc/Remote startups . here Once again, HUGE CONGRATULATIONS and BIG PROPS to all of the top Startups of each region this year! The whole team at HackerNoon would like to thank you for your perseverance in the campaign, and we look forward to seeing you in the next campaign. About HackerNoon’s Startups Of The Year Startups of The Year is HackerNoon’s Flagship community-driven event celebrating startups that survived and thrived in 2023. 30,000 startups across 4200+ cities and six continents participated this year to be crowned the best startup in their city. Visit our page to learn more. FAQ Companies that blog more get 67% more leads - Jumpstart your company’s blogging journey by purchasing our . Business Blogging Package The 2023 Startups Of The Year is sponsored by: . . The winners get a free .Tech Domain, a HackerNoon NFT, and a Tech Company News Page. TECH Domains

Stand Up for the Champion Startups of the Year! 

বছরের চ্যাম্পিয়ন স্টার্টআপের জন্য দাঁড়ান!

Setzen Sie sich für die Champion-Startups des Jahres ein!

¡Defiende a las startups campeonas del año!

Défendez les startups championnes de l’année !

वर्ष के चैंपियन स्टार्टअप के लिए खड़े रहें!

今年のチャンピオンスタートアップのために立ち上がろう!

올해의 챔피언 스타트업을 위해 일어서세요!

Defenda as startups campeãs do ano!

Встаньте на защиту стартапов-чемпионов года!

Yılın Şampiyon Startup'ları için Ayağa Kalkın!

Hãy ủng hộ các công ty khởi nghiệp vô địch của năm!

为年度冠军初创企业挺身而出！

The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . RUBY RUGGLES OBEYS HER GRANDFATHER here RUBY RUGGLES OBEYS HER GRANDFATHER. The next day there was great surprise at Sheep's Acre farm, which communicated itself to the towns of Bungay and Beccles, and even affected the ordinary quiet life of Carbury Manor. Ruby Ruggles had gone away, and at about twelve o'clock in the day the old farmer became aware of the fact. She had started early, at about seven in the morning; but Ruggles himself had been out long before that, and had not condescended to ask for her when he returned to the house for his breakfast. There had been a bad scene up in the bedroom overnight, after John Crumb had left the farm. The old man in his anger had tried to expel the girl; but she had hung on to the bed-post and would not go; and he had been frightened, when the maid came up crying and screaming murder. "You'll be out o' this to-morrow as sure as my name's Dannel Ruggles," said the farmer panting for breath. But for the gin which he had taken he would hardly have struck her;—but he had struck her, and pulled her by the hair, and knocked her about;—and in the morning she took him at his word and was away. About twelve he heard from the servant girl that she had gone. She had packed a box and had started up the road carrying the box herself. "Grandfather says I'm to go, and I'm gone," she had said to the girl. At the first cottage she had got a boy to carry her box into Beccles, and to Beccles she had walked. For an hour or two Ruggles sat, quiet, within the house, telling himself that she might do as she pleased with herself,—that he was well rid of her, and that from henceforth he would trouble himself no more about her. But by degrees there came upon him a feeling half of compassion and half of fear, with perhaps some mixture of love, instigating him to make search for her. She had been the same to him as a child, and what would people say of him if he allowed her to depart from him after this fashion? Then he remembered his violence the night before, and the fact that the servant girl had heard if she had not seen it. He could not drop his responsibility in regard to Ruby, even if he would. So, as a first step, he sent in a message to John Crumb, at Bungay, to tell him that Ruby Ruggles had gone off with a box to Beccles. John Crumb went open-mouthed with the news to Joe Mixet, and all Bungay soon knew that Ruby Ruggles had run away. After sending his message to Crumb the old man still sat thinking, and at last made up his mind that he would go to his landlord. He held a part of his farm under Roger Carbury, and Roger Carbury would tell him what he ought to do. A great trouble had come upon him. He would fain have been quiet, but his conscience and his heart and his terrors all were at work together,—and he found that he could not eat his dinner. So he had out his cart and horse and drove himself off to Carbury Hall. It was past four when he started, and he found the squire seated on the terrace after an early dinner, and with him was Father Barham, the priest. The old man was shown at once round into the garden, and was not long in telling his story. There had been words between him and his granddaughter about her lover. Her lover had been accepted and had come to the farm to claim his bride. Ruby had behaved very badly. The old man made the most of Ruby's bad behaviour, and of course as little as possible of his own violence. But he did explain that there had been threats used when Ruby refused to take the man, and that Ruby had, this day, taken herself off. "I always thought it was settled they were to be man and wife," said Roger. "It was settled, squoire;—and he war to have five hun'erd pound down;—money as I'd saved myself. Drat the jade." "Didn't she like him, Daniel?" "She liked him well enough till she'd seed somebody else." Then old Daniel paused, and shook his head, and was evidently the owner of a secret. The squire got up and walked round the garden with him,—and then the secret was told. The farmer was of opinion that there was something between the girl and Sir Felix. Sir Felix some weeks since had been seen near the farm and on the same occasion Ruby had been observed at some little distance from the house with her best clothes on. "He's been so little here, Daniel," said the squire. "It goes as tinder and a spark o' fire, that does," said the farmer. "Girls like Ruby don't want no time to be wooed by one such as that, though they'll fall-lall with a man like John Crumb for years." "I suppose she's gone to London." "Don't know nothing of where she's gone, squoire;—only she have gone some'eres. May be it's Lowestoffe. There's lots of quality at Lowestoffe a' washing theyselves in the sea." Then they returned to the priest, who might be supposed to be cognisant of the guiles of the world and competent to give advice on such an occasion as this. "If she was one of our people," said Father Barham, "we should have her back quick enough." "Would ye now?" said Ruggles, wishing at the moment that he and all his family had been brought up as Roman Catholics. "I don't see how you would have more chance of catching her than we have," said Carbury. "She'd catch herself. Wherever she might be she'd go to the priest, and he wouldn't leave her till he'd seen her put on the way back to her friends." "With a flea in her lug," suggested the farmer. "Your people never go to a clergyman in their distress. It's the last thing they'd think of. Any one might more probably be regarded as a friend than the parson. But with us the poor know where to look for sympathy." "She ain't that poor, neither," said the grandfather. "She had money with her?" "I don't know just what she had; but she ain't been brought up poor. And I don't think as our Ruby'd go of herself to any clergyman. It never was her way." "It never is the way with a Protestant," said the priest. "We'll say no more about that for the present," said Roger, who was waxing wroth with the priest. That a man should be fond of his own religion is right; but Roger Carbury was beginning to think that Father Barham was too fond of his religion. "What had we better do? I suppose we shall hear something of her at the railway. There are not so many people leaving Beccles but that she may be remembered." So the waggonette was ordered, and they all prepared to go off to the station together. But before they started John Crumb rode up to the door. He had gone at once to the farm on hearing of Ruby's departure, and had followed the farmer from thence to Carbury. Now he found the squire and the priest and the old man standing around as the horses were being put to the carriage. "Ye ain't a' found her, Mr. Ruggles, ha' ye?" he asked as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Noa;—we ain't a' found no one yet." "If it was as she was to come to harm, Mr. Carbury, I'd never forgive myself,—never," said Crumb. "As far as I can understand it is no doing of yours, my friend," said the squire. "In one way, it ain't; and in one way it is. I was over there last night a bothering of her. She'd a' come round may be, if she'd a' been left alone. She wouldn't a' been off now, only for our going over to Sheep's Acre. But,—oh!" "What is it, Mr. Crumb?" "He's a coosin o' yours, squoire; and long as I've known Suffolk, I've never known nothing but good o' you and yourn. But if your baronite has been and done this! Oh, Mr. Carbury! If I was to wring his neck round, you wouldn't say as how I was wrong; would ye, now?" Roger could hardly answer the question. On general grounds the wringing of Sir Felix's neck, let the immediate cause for such a performance have been what it might, would have seemed to him to be a good deed. The world would be better, according to his thinking, with Sir Felix out of it than in it. But still the young man was his cousin and a Carbury, and to such a one as John Crumb he was bound to defend any member of his family as far as he might be defensible. "They says as how he was groping about Sheep's Acre when he was last here, a hiding himself and skulking behind hedges. Drat 'em all. They've gals enough of their own,—them fellows. Why can't they let a fellow alone? I'll do him a mischief, Master Roger; I wull;—if he's had a hand in this." Poor John Crumb! When he had his mistress to win he could find no words for himself; but was obliged to take an eloquent baker with him to talk for him. Now in his anger he could talk freely enough. "But you must first learn that Sir Felix has had anything to do with this, Mr. Crumb." "In coorse; in coorse. That's right. That's right. Must l'arn as he did it, afore I does it. But when I have l'arned!"— And John Crumb clenched his fist as though a very short lesson would suffice for him upon this occasion. They all went to the Beccles Station, and from thence to the Beccles post office,—so that Beccles soon knew as much about it as Bungay. At the railway station Ruby was distinctly remembered. She had taken a second-class ticket by the morning train for London, and had gone off without any appearance of secrecy. She had been decently dressed, with a hat and cloak, and her luggage had been such as she might have been expected to carry, had all her friends known that she was going. So much was made clear at the railway station, but nothing more could be learned there. Then a message was sent by telegraph to the station in London, and they all waited, loitering about the post office, for a reply. One of the porters in London remembered seeing such a girl as was described, but the man who was supposed to have carried her box for her to a cab had gone away for the day. It was believed that she had left the station in a four-wheel cab. "I'll be arter her. I'll be arter her at once," said John Crumb. But there was no train till night, and Roger Carbury was doubtful whether his going would do any good. It was evidently fixed on Crumb's mind that the first step towards finding Ruby would be the breaking of every bone in the body of Sir Felix Carbury. Now it was not at all apparent to the squire that his cousin had had anything to do with this affair. It had been made quite clear to him that the old man had quarrelled with his granddaughter and had threatened to turn her out of his house, not because she had misbehaved with Sir Felix, but on account of her refusing to marry John Crumb. John Crumb had gone over to the farm expecting to arrange it all, and up to that time there had been no fear about Felix Carbury. Nor was it possible that there should have been communication between Ruby and Felix since the quarrel at the farm. Even if the old man were right in supposing that Ruby and the baronet had been acquainted,—and such acquaintance could not but be prejudicial to the girl,—not on that account would the baronet be responsible for her abduction. John Crumb was thirsting for blood and was not very capable in his present mood of arguing the matter out coolly, and Roger, little as he loved his cousin, was not desirous that all Suffolk should know that Sir Felix Carbury had been thrashed within an inch of his life by John Crumb of Bungay. "I'll tell you what I'll do," said he, putting his hand kindly on the old man's shoulder. "I'll go up myself by the first train to-morrow. I can trace her better than Mr. Crumb can do, and you will both trust me." "There's not one in the two counties I'd trust so soon," said the old man. "But you'll let us know the very truth," said John Crumb. Roger Carbury made him an indiscreet promise that he would let him know the truth. So the matter was settled, and the grandfather and lover returned together to Bungay. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Anthony Trollope (2004). The Way We Live Now. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/5231/pg5231-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

RUBY RUGGLES OBEYS HER GRANDFATHER

Snowdrop & Other Tales by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . The Goosegirl The Goosegirl THERE was once an old Queen whose husband had been dead for many years, and she had a very beautiful daughter. When she grew up she was betrothed to a Prince in a distant country. When the time came for the maiden to be sent into this distant country to be married, the old Queen packed up quantities of clothes and jewels, gold and silver, cups and ornaments, and, in fact, everything suitable to a royal outfit, for she loved her daughter very dearly. She also sent a Waiting-woman to travel with her, and to put her hand into that of the bridegroom. They each had a horse. The Princess’s horse was called Falada, and it could speak. When the hour of departure came, the old Queen went to her bedroom, and with a sharp little knife cut her finger and made it bleed. Then she held a piece of white cambric under it, and let three drops of blood fall on to it. This cambric she gave to her daughter, and said, ‘Dear child, take good care of this; it will stand you in good stead on the journey.’ They then bade each other a sorrowful farewell. The Princess hid the piece of cambric in her bosom, mounted her horse, and set out to her bridegroom’s country. When they had ridden for a time the Princess became very thirsty, and said to the Waiting-woman, ‘Get down and fetch me some water in my cup from the stream. I must have something to drink.’ ‘If you are thirsty,’ said the Waiting-woman, ‘dismount yourself, lie down by the water and drink. I don’t choose to be your servant.’ So, in her great thirst, the Princess dismounted and stooped down to the stream and drank, as she might not have her golden cup. The poor Princess said, ‘Alas!’ and the drops of blood answered, ‘If your mother knew this, it would break her heart.’ The royal bride was humble, so she said nothing, but mounted her horse again. Then they rode several miles further; but the day was warm, the sun was scorching, and the Princess was soon thirsty again. When they reached a river she called out again to her Waiting-woman, ‘Get down, and give me some water in my golden cup!’ She had forgotten all about the rude words which had been said to her. But the Waiting-woman answered more haughtily than ever, ‘If you want to drink, get the water for yourself. I won’t be your servant.’ Being very thirsty, the Princess dismounted, and knelt by the flowing water. She cried, and said, ‘Ah me!’ and the drops of blood answered, ‘If your mother knew this it would break her heart.’ While she stooped over the water to drink, the piece of cambric with the drops of blood on it fell out of her bosom, and floated away on the stream; but she never noticed this in her great fear. The Waiting-woman, however, had seen it, and rejoiced at getting more power over the bride, who, by losing the drops of blood, had become weak and powerless. Now, when she was about to mount her horse Falada again, the Waiting-woman said, ‘By rights, Falada belongs to me; this jade will do for you!’ The poor little Princess was obliged to give way. Then the Waiting-woman, in a harsh voice, ordered her to take off her royal robes, and to put on her own mean garments. Finally, she forced her to swear before heaven that she would not tell a creature at the Court what had taken place. Had she not taken the oath she would have been killed on the spot. But Falada saw all this and marked it. The Waiting-woman then mounted Falada and put the real bride on her poor jade, and they continued their journey. There was great rejoicing when they arrived at the castle. The Prince hurried towards them, and lifted the Waiting-woman from her horse, thinking she was his bride. She was led upstairs, but the real Princess had to stay below. The old King looked out of the window and saw the delicate, pretty little creature standing in the courtyard; so he went to the bridal apartments and asked the bride about her companion, who was left standing in the courtyard, and wished to know who she was. ‘I picked her up on the way, and brought her with me for company. Give the girl something to do to keep her from idling.’ But the old King had no work for her, and could not think of anything. At last he said, ‘I have a little lad who looks after the geese; she may help him.’ The boy was called little Conrad, and the real bride was sent with him to look after the geese. Soon after, the false bride said to the Prince, ‘Dear husband, I pray you do me a favour.’ He answered, ‘That will I gladly.’ ‘Well, then, let the knacker be called to cut off the head of the horse I rode; it angered me on the way.’ Really, she was afraid that the horse would speak, and tell of her treatment of the Princess. So it was settled, and the faithful Falada had to die. When this came to the ear of the real Princess, she promised the knacker a piece of gold if he would do her a slight service. There was a great dark gateway to the town, through which she had to pass every morning and evening. ‘Would he nail up Falada’s head in this gateway, so that she might see him as she passed?’ The knacker promised to do as she wished, and when the horse’s head was cut off, he hung it up in the dark gateway. In the early morning, when she and Conrad went through the gateway, she said in passing— ‘Alas! dear Falada, there thou hangest.’ And the Head answered— ‘Alas! Queen’s daughter, there thou gangest. If thy mother knew thy fate, Her heart would break with grief so great.’ Then they passed on out of the town, right into the fields, with the geese. When they reached the meadow, the Princess sat down on the grass and let down her hair. It shone like pure gold, and when little Conrad saw it, he was so delighted that he wanted to pluck some out; but she said— ‘Blow, blow, little breeze, And Conrad’s hat seize. Let him join in the chase While away it is whirled, Till my tresses are curled And I rest in my place.’ Then a strong wind sprang up, which blew away Conrad’s hat right over the fields, and he had to run after it. When he came back, she had finished combing her hair, and it was all put up again; so he could not get a single hair. This made him very sulky, and he would not say another word to her. And they tended the geese till evening, when they went home. Next morning, when they passed under the gateway, the Princess said— ‘Alas! dear Falada, there thou hangest.’ Falada answered:— ‘Alas! Queen’s daughter, there thou gangest. If thy mother knew thy fate, Her heart would break with grief so great.’ Again, when they reached the meadows, the Princess undid her hair and began combing it. Conrad ran to pluck some out; but she said quickly— ‘Blow, blow, little breeze, And Conrad’s hat seize. Let him join in the chase While away it is whirled, Till my tresses are curled And I rest in my place.’ The wind sprang up and blew Conrad’s hat far away over the fields, and he had to run after it. When he came back the hair was all put up again, and he could not pull a single hair out. And they tended the geese till the evening. When they got home Conrad went to the old King, and said, ‘I won’t tend the geese with that maiden again.’ ‘Why not?’ asked the King. ‘Oh, she vexes me every day.’ The old King then ordered him to say what she did to vex him. Conrad said, ‘In the morning, when we pass under the dark gateway with the geese, she talks to a horse’s head which is hung up on the wall. She says— ‘Alas! Falada, there thou hangest,’ and the Head answers— ‘Alas! Queen’s daughter, there thou gangest. If thy mother knew thy fate, Her heart would break with grief so great.’ Then Conrad went on to tell the King all that happened in the meadow, and how he had to run after his hat in the wind. The old King ordered Conrad to go out next day as usual. Then he placed himself behind the dark gateway, and heard the Princess speaking to Falada’s head. He also followed her into the field, and hid himself behind a bush, and with his own eyes he saw the Goosegirl and the lad come driving the geese into the field. Then, after a time, he saw the girl let down her hair, which glittered in the sun. Directly after this, she said— ‘Blow, blow, little breeze, And Conrad’s hat seize. Let him join in the chase While away it is whirled, Till my tresses are curled And I rest in my place.’ Then came a puff of wind, which carried off Conrad’s hat and he had to run after it. While he was away, the maiden combed and did up her hair; and all this the old King observed. Thereupon he went away unnoticed; and in the evening, when the Goosegirl came home, he called her aside and asked why she did all these things. ‘That I may not tell you, nor may I tell any human creature; for I have sworn it under the open sky, because if I had not done so I should have lost my life.’ He pressed her sorely, and gave her no peace, but he could get nothing out of her. Then he said, ‘If you won’t tell me, then tell your sorrows to the iron stove there’; and he went away. She crept up to the stove, and, beginning to weep and lament, unburdened her heart to it, and said: ‘Here I am, forsaken by all the world, and yet I am a Princess. A false Waiting-woman brought me to such a pass that I had to take off my royal robes. Then she took my place with my bridegroom, while I have to do mean service as a Goosegirl. If my mother knew it she would break her heart.’ The old King stood outside by the pipes of the stove, and heard all that she said. Then he came back, and told her to go away from the stove. He caused royal robes to be put upon her, and her beauty was a marvel. The old King called his son, and told him that he had a false bride—she was only a Waiting-woman; but the true bride was here, the so-called Goosegirl. The young Prince was charmed with her youth and beauty. A great banquet was prepared, to which all the courtiers and good friends were bidden. The bridegroom sat at the head of the table, with the Princess on one side and the Waiting-woman at the other; but she was dazzled, and did not recognise the Princess in her brilliant apparel. When they had eaten and drunk and were all very merry, the old King put a riddle to the Waiting-woman. ‘What does a person deserve who deceives his master?’ telling the whole story, and ending by asking, ‘What doom does he deserve?’ The false bride answered, ‘No better than this. He must be put stark naked into a barrel stuck with nails, and be dragged along by two white horses from street to street till he is dead.’ ‘That is your own doom,’ said the King, ‘and the judgment shall be carried out.’ When the sentence was fulfilled, the young Prince married his true bride, and they ruled their kingdom together in peace and happiness. 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. Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm (2011). Snowdrop & Other Tales. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022, https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/37381/pg37381-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 Goosegirl

The Wheels of Chance by H. G. Wells, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE DEPARTURE FROM CHICHESTER XXVIII. THE DEPARTURE FROM CHICHESTER He caused his 'sister' to be called repeatedly, and when she came down, explained with a humorous smile his legal relationship to the bicycle in the yard. “Might be disagreeable, y' know.” His anxiety was obvious enough. “Very well,” she said (quite friendly); “hurry breakfast, and we'll ride out. I want to talk things over with you.” The girl seemed more beautiful than ever after the night's sleep; her hair in comely dark waves from her forehead, her ungauntleted finger-tips pink and cool. And how decided she was! Breakfast was a nervous ceremony, conversation fraternal but thin; the waiter overawed him, and he was cowed by a multiplicity of forks. But she called him “Chris.” They discussed their route over his sixpenny county map for the sake of talking, but avoided a decision in the presence of the attendant. The five-pound note was changed for the bill, and through Hoopdriver's determination to be quite the gentleman, the waiter and chambermaid got half a crown each and the ostler a florin. “'Olidays,” said the ostler to himself, without gratitude. The public mounting of the bicycles in the street was a moment of trepidation. A policeman actually stopped and watched them from the opposite kerb. Suppose him to come across and ask: “Is that your bicycle, sir?” Fight? Or drop it and run? It was a time of bewildering apprehension, too, going through the streets of the town, so that a milk cart barely escaped destruction under Mr. Hoopdriver's chancy wheel. That recalled him to a sense of erratic steering, and he pulled himself together. In the lanes he breathed freer, and a less formal conversation presently began. “You've ridden out of Chichester in a great hurry,” said Jessie. “Well, the fact of it is, I'm worried, just a little bit. About this machine.” “Of course,” she said. “I had forgotten that. But where are we going?” “Jest a turning or two more, if you don't mind,” said Hoopdriver. “Jest a mile or so. I have to think of you, you know. I should feel more easy. If we was locked up, you know—Not that I should mind on my own account—” They rode with a streaky, grey sea coming and going on their left hand. Every mile they put between themselves and Chichester Mr. Hoopdriver felt a little less conscience-stricken, and a little more of the gallant desperado. Here he was riding on a splendid machine with a Slap-up girl beside him. What would they think of it in the Emporium if any of them were to see him? He imagined in detail the astonishment of Miss Isaacs and of Miss Howe. “Why! It's Mr. Hoopdriver,” Miss Isaacs would say. “Never!” emphatically from Miss Howe. Then he played with Briggs, and then tried the 'G.V.' in a shay. “Fancy introducing 'em to her—My sister pro tem.” He was her brother Chris—Chris what?—Confound it! Harringon, Hartington—something like that. Have to keep off that topic until he could remember. Wish he'd told her the truth now—almost. He glanced at her. She was riding with her eyes straight ahead of her. Thinking. A little perplexed, perhaps, she seemed. He noticed how well she rode and that she rode with her lips closed—a thing he could never manage. Mr. Hoopdriver's mind came round to the future. What was she going to do? What were they both going to do? His thoughts took a graver colour. He had rescued her. This was fine, manly rescue work he was engaged upon. She ought to go home, in spite of that stepmother. He must insist gravely but firmly upon that. She was the spirited sort, of course, but still—Wonder if she had any money? Wonder what the second-class fare from Havant to London is? Of course he would have to pay that—it was the regular thing, he being a gentleman. Then should he take her home? He began to rough in a moving sketch of the return. The stepmother, repentant of her indescribable cruelties, would be present,—even these rich people have their troubles,—probably an uncle or two. The footman would announce, Mr.—(bother that name!) and Miss Milton. Then two women weeping together, and a knightly figure in the background dressed in a handsome Norfolk jacket, still conspicuously new. He would conceal his feeling until the very end. Then, leaving, he would pause in the doorway in such an attitude as Mr. George Alexander might assume, and say, slowly and dwindlingly: “Be kind to her—BE kind to her,” and so depart, heartbroken to the meanest intelligence. But that was a matter for the future. He would have to begin discussing the return soon. There was no traffic along the road, and he came up beside her (he had fallen behind in his musing). She began to talk. “Mr. Denison,” she began, and then, doubtfully, “That is your name? I'm very stupid—” “It is,” said Mr. Hoopdriver. (Denison, was it? Denison, Denison, Denison. What was she saying?) “I wonder how far you are willing to help me?” Confoundedly hard to answer a question like that on the spur of the moment, without steering wildly. “You may rely—” said Mr. Hoopdriver, recovering from a violent wabble. “I can assure you—I want to help you very much. Don't consider me at all. Leastways, consider me entirely at your service.” (Nuisance not to be able to say this kind of thing right.) “You see, I am so awkwardly situated.” “If I can only help you—you will make me very happy—” There was a pause. Round a bend in the road they came upon a grassy space between hedge and road, set with yarrow and meadowsweet, where a felled tree lay among the green. There she dismounted, and propping her machine against a stone, sat down. “Here, we can talk,” she said. “Yes,” said Mr. Hoopdriver, expectant. She answered after a little while, sitting, elbow on knee, with her chin in her hand, and looking straight in front of her. “I don't know—I am resolved to Live my Own Life.” “Of course,” said Mr. Hoopdriver. “Naturally.” “I want to Live, and I want to see what life means. I want to learn. Everyone is hurrying me, everything is hurrying me; I want time to think.” Mr. Hoopdriver was puzzled, but admiring. It was wonderful how clear and ready her words were. But then one might speak well with a throat and lips like that. He knew he was inadequate, but he tried to meet the occasion. “If you let them rush you into anything you might repent of, of course you'd be very silly.” “Don't YOU want to learn?” she asked. “I was wondering only this morning,” he began, and stopped. She was too intent upon her own thoughts to notice this insufficiency. “I find myself in life, and it terrifies me. I seem to be like a little speck, whirling on a wheel, suddenly caught up. 'What am I here for?' I ask. Simply to be here at a time—I asked it a week ago, I asked it yesterday, and I ask it to-day. And little things happen and the days pass. My stepmother takes me shopping, people come to tea, there is a new play to pass the time, or a concert, or a novel. The wheels of the world go on turning, turning. It is horrible. I want to do a miracle like Joshua and stop the whirl until I have fought it out. At home—It's impossible.” Mr. Hoopdriver stroked his moustache. “It IS so,” he said in a meditative tone. “Things WILL go on,” he said. The faint breath of summer stirred the trees, and a bunch of dandelion puff lifted among the meadowsweet and struck and broke into a dozen separate threads against his knee. They flew on apart, and sank, as the breeze fell, among the grass: some to germinate, some to perish. His eye followed them until they had vanished. “I can't go back to Surbiton,” said the Young Lady in Grey. “EIGH?” said Mr. Hoopdriver, catching at his moustache. This was an unexpected development. “I want to write, you see,” said the Young Lady in Grey, “to write Books and alter things. To do Good. I want to lead a Free Life and Own myself. I can't go back. I want to obtain a position as a journalist. I have been told—But I know no one to help me at once. No one that I could go to. There is one person—She was a mistress at my school. If I could write to her—But then, how could I get her answer?” “H'mp,” said Mr. Hoopdriver, very grave. “I can't trouble you much more. You have come—you have risked things—” “That don't count,” said Mr. Hoopdriver. “It's double pay to let me do it, so to speak.” “It is good of you to say that. Surbiton is so Conventional. I am resolved to be Unconventional—at any cost. But we are so hampered. If I could only burgeon out of all that hinders me! I want to struggle, to take my place in the world. I want to be my own mistress, to shape my own career. But my stepmother objects so. She does as she likes herself, and is strict with me to ease her conscience. And if I go back now, go back owning myself beaten—” She left the rest to his imagination. “I see that,” agreed Mr. Hoopdriver. He MUST help her. Within his skull he was doing some intricate arithmetic with five pounds six and twopence. In some vague way he inferred from all this that Jessie was trying to escape from an undesirable marriage, but was saying these things out of modesty. His circle of ideas was so limited. “You know, Mr.—I've forgotten your name again.” Mr. Hoopdriver seemed lost in abstraction. “You can't go back of course, quite like that,” he said thoughtfully. His ears waxed suddenly red and his cheeks flushed. “But what IS your name?” “Name!” said Mr. Hoopdriver. “Why!—Benson, of course.” “Mr. Benson—yes it's really very stupid of me. But I can never remember names. I must make a note on my cuff.” She clicked a little silver pencil and wrote the name down. “If I could write to my friend. I believe she would be able to help me to an independent life. I could write to her—or telegraph. Write, I think. I could scarcely explain in a telegram. I know she would help me.” Clearly there was only one course open to a gentleman under the circumstances. “In that case,” said Mr. Hoopdriver, “if you don't mind trusting yourself to a stranger, we might continue as we are perhaps. For a day or so. Until you heard.” (Suppose thirty shillings a day, that gives four days, say four thirties is hun' and twenty, six quid,—well, three days, say; four ten.) “You are very good to me.” His expression was eloquent. “Very well, then, and thank you. It's wonderful—it's more than I deserve that you—” She dropped the theme abruptly. “What was our bill at Chichester?” “Eigh?” said Mr. Hoopdriver, feigning a certain stupidity. There was a brief discussion. Secretly he was delighted at her insistence in paying. She carried her point. Their talk came round to their immediate plans for the day. They decided to ride easily, through Havant, and stop, perhaps, at Fareham or Southampton. For the previous day had tried them both. Holding the map extended on his knee, Mr. Hoopdriver's eye fell by chance on the bicycle at his feet. “That bicycle,” he remarked, quite irrelevantly, “wouldn't look the same machine if I got a big, double Elarum instead of that little bell.” “Why?” “Jest a thought.” A pause. “Very well, then,—Havant and lunch,” said Jessie, rising. “I wish, somehow, we could have managed it without stealing that machine,” said Hoopdriver. “Because it IS stealing it, you know, come to think of it.” “Nonsense. If Mr. Bechamel troubles you—I will tell the whole world—if need be.” “I believe you would,” said Mr. Hoopdriver, admiring her. “You're plucky enough—goodness knows.” Discovering suddenly that she was standing, he, too, rose and picked up her machine. She took it and wheeled it into the road. Then he took his own. He paused, regarding it. “I say!” said he. “How'd this bike look, now, if it was enamelled grey?” She looked over her shoulder at his grave face. “Why try and hide it in that way?” “It was jest a passing thought,” said Mr. Hoopdriver, airily. “Didn't MEAN anything, you know.” As they were riding on to Havant it occurred to Mr. Hoopdriver in a transitory manner that the interview had been quite other than his expectation. But that was the way with everything in Mr. Hoopdriver's experience. And though his Wisdom looked grave within him, and Caution was chinking coins, and an ancient prejudice in favour of Property shook her head, something else was there too, shouting in his mind to drown all these saner considerations, the intoxicating thought of riding beside Her all to-day, all to-morrow, perhaps for other days after that. Of talking to her familiarly, being brother of all her slender strength and freshness, of having a golden, real, and wonderful time beyond all his imaginings. His old familiar fancyings gave place to anticipations as impalpable and fluctuating and beautiful as the sunset of a summer day. At Havant he took an opportunity to purchase, at small hairdresser's in the main street, a toothbrush, a pair of nail scissors, and a little bottle of stuff to darken the moustache, an article the shopman introduced to his attention, recommended highly, and sold in the excitement of the occasion. 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. H. G. Wells (2009). The Wheels of Chance. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022, from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1264/1264-h/1264-h.htm 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 DEPARTURE FROM CHICHESTER

Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens is part of HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here: [LINK TO TABLE OF LINK] CHAPTER XXV. WHEREIN THIS HISTORY REVERTS TO MR. FAGIN AND COMPANY While these things were passing in the country workhouse, Mr. Fagin sat in the old den—the same from which Oliver had been removed by the girl—brooding over a dull, smoky fire. He held a pair of bellows upon his knee, with which he had apparently been endeavouring to rouse it into more cheerful action; but he had fallen into deep thought; and with his arms folded on them, and his chin resting on his thumbs, fixed his eyes, abstractedly, on the rusty bars. At a table behind him sat the Artful Dodger, Master Charles Bates, and Mr. Chitling: all intent upon a game of whist; the Artful taking dummy against Master Bates and Mr. Chitling. The countenance of the first-named gentleman, peculiarly intelligent at all times, acquired great additional interest from his close observance of the game, and his attentive perusal of Mr. Chitling’s hand; upon which, from time to time, as occasion served, he bestowed a variety of earnest glances: wisely regulating his own play by the result of his observations upon his neighbour’s cards. It being a cold night, the Dodger wore his hat, as, indeed, was often his custom within doors. He also sustained a clay pipe between his teeth, which he only removed for a brief space when he deemed it necessary to apply for refreshment to a quart pot upon the table, which stood ready filled with gin-and-water for the accommodation of the company. Master Bates was also attentive to the play; but being of a more excitable nature than his accomplished friend, it was observable that he more frequently applied himself to the gin-and-water, and moreover indulged in many jests and irrelevant remarks, all highly unbecoming a scientific rubber. Indeed, the Artful, presuming upon their close attachment, more than once took occasion to reason gravely with his companion upon these improprieties; all of which remonstrances, Master Bates received in extremely good part; merely requesting his friend to be “blowed,” or to insert his head in a sack, or replying with some other neatly-turned witticism of a similar kind, the happy application of which, excited considerable admiration in the mind of Mr. Chitling. It was remarkable that the latter gentleman and his partner invariably lost; and that the circumstance, so far from angering Master Bates, appeared to afford him the highest amusement, inasmuch as he laughed most uproariously at the end of every deal, and protested that he had never seen such a jolly game in all his born days. “That’s two doubles and the rub,” said Mr. Chitling, with a very long face, as he drew half-a-crown from his waistcoat-pocket. “I never see such a feller as you, Jack; you win everything. Even when we’ve good cards, Charley and I can’t make nothing of ’em.” Either the master or the manner of this remark, which was made very ruefully, delighted Charley Bates so much, that his consequent shout of laughter roused the Jew from his reverie, and induced him to inquire what was the matter. “Matter, Fagin!” cried Charley. “I wish you had watched the play. Tommy Chitling hasn’t won a point; and I went partners with him against the Artfull and dumb.” “Ay, ay!” said the Jew, with a grin, which sufficiently demonstrated that he was at no loss to understand the reason. “Try ’em again, Tom; try ’em again.” “No more of it for me, thank ’ee, Fagin,” replied Mr. Chitling; “I’ve had enough. That ’ere Dodger has such a run of luck that there’s no standing again’ him.” “Ha! ha! my dear,” replied the Jew, “you must get up very early in the morning, to win against the Dodger.” “Morning!” said Charley Bates; “you must put your boots on over-night, and have a telescope at each eye, and a opera-glass between your shoulders, if you want to come over him.” Mr. Dawkins received these handsome compliments with much philosophy, and offered to cut any gentleman in company, for the first picture-card, at a shilling at a time. Nobody accepting the challenge, and his pipe being by this time smoked out, he proceeded to amuse himself by sketching a ground-plan of Newgate on the table with the piece of chalk which had served him in lieu of counters; whistling, meantime, with peculiar shrillness. “How precious dull you are, Tommy!” said the Dodger, stopping short when there had been a long silence; and addressing Mr. Chitling. “What do you think he’s thinking of, Fagin?” “How should I know, my dear?” replied the Jew, looking round as he plied the bellows. “About his losses, maybe; or the little retirement in the country that he’s just left, eh? Ha! ha! Is that it, my dear?” “Not a bit of it,” replied the Dodger, stopping the subject of discourse as Mr. Chitling was about to reply. “What do you say, Charley?” “I should say,” replied Master Bates, with a grin, “that he was uncommon sweet upon Betsy. See how he’s a-blushing! Oh, my eye! here’s a merry-go-rounder! Tommy Chitling’s in love! Oh, Fagin, Fagin! what a spree!” Thoroughly overpowered with the notion of Mr. Chitling being the victim of the tender passion, Master Bates threw himself back in his chair with such violence, that he lost his balance, and pitched over upon the floor; where (the accident abating nothing of his merriment) he lay at full length until his laugh was over, when he resumed his former position, and began another laugh. “Never mind him, my dear,” said the Jew, winking at Mr. Dawkins, and giving Master Bates a reproving tap with the nozzle of the bellows. “Betsy’s a fine girl. Stick up to her, Tom. Stick up to her.” “What I mean to say, Fagin,” replied Mr. Chitling, very red in the face, “is, that that isn’t anything to anybody here.” “No more it is,” replied the Jew; “Charley will talk. Don’t mind him, my dear; don’t mind him. Betsy’s a fine girl. Do as she bids you, Tom, and you will make your fortune.” “So I do do as she bids me,” replied Mr. Chitling; “I shouldn’t have been milled, if it hadn’t been for her advice. But it turned out a good job for you; didn’t it, Fagin! And what’s six weeks of it? It must come, some time or another, and why not in the winter time when you don’t want to go out a-walking so much; eh, Fagin?” “Ah, to be sure, my dear,” replied the Jew. “You wouldn’t mind it again, Tom, would you,” asked the Dodger, winking upon Charley and the Jew, “if Bet was all right?” “I mean to say that I shouldn’t,” replied Tom, angrily. “There, now. Ah! Who’ll say as much as that, I should like to know; eh, Fagin?” “Nobody, my dear,” replied the Jew; “not a soul, Tom. I don’t know one of ’em that would do it besides you; not one of ’em, my dear.” “I might have got clear off, if I’d split upon her; mightn’t I, Fagin?” angrily pursued the poor half-witted dupe. “A word from me would have done it; wouldn’t it, Fagin?” “To be sure it would, my dear,” replied the Jew. “But I didn’t blab it; did I, Fagin?” demanded Tom, pouring question upon question with great volubility. “No, no, to be sure,” replied the Jew; “you were too stout-hearted for that. A deal too stout, my dear!” “Perhaps I was,” rejoined Tom, looking round; “and if I was, what’s to laugh at, in that; eh, Fagin?” The Jew, perceiving that Mr. Chitling was considerably roused, hastened to assure him that nobody was laughing; and to prove the gravity of the company, appealed to Master Bates, the principal offender. But, unfortunately, Charley, in opening his mouth to reply that he was never more serious in his life, was unable to prevent the escape of such a violent roar, that the abused Mr. Chitling, without any preliminary ceremonies, rushed across the room and aimed a blow at the offender; who, being skilful in evading pursuit, ducked to avoid it, and chose his time so well that it lighted on the chest of the merry old gentleman, and caused him to stagger to the wall, where he stood panting for breath, while Mr. Chitling looked on in intense dismay. “Hark!” cried the Dodger at this moment, “I heard the tinkler.” Catching up the light, he crept softly upstairs. The bell was rung again, with some impatience, while the party were in darkness. After a short pause, the Dodger reappeared, and whispered Fagin mysteriously. “What!” cried the Jew, “alone?” The Dodger nodded in the affirmative, and, shading the flame of the candle with his hand, gave Charley Bates a private intimation, in dumb show, that he had better not be funny just then. Having performed this friendly office, he fixed his eyes on the Jew’s face, and awaited his directions. The old man bit his yellow fingers, and meditated for some seconds; his face working with agitation the while, as if he dreaded something, and feared to know the worst. At length he raised his head. “Where is he?” he asked. The Dodger pointed to the floor above, and made a gesture, as if to leave the room. “Yes,” said the Jew, answering the mute inquiry; “bring him down. Hush! Quiet, Charley! Gently, Tom! Scarce, scarce!” This brief direction to Charley Bates, and his recent antagonist, was softly and immediately obeyed. There was no sound of their whereabout, when the Dodger descended the stairs, bearing the light in his hand, and followed by a man in a coarse smock-frock; who, after casting a hurried glance round the room, pulled off a large wrapper which had concealed the lower portion of his face, and disclosed: all haggard, unwashed, and unshorn: the features of flash Toby Crackit. “How are you, Faguey?” said this worthy, nodding to the Jew. “Pop that shawl away in my castor, Dodger, so that I may know where to find it when I cut; that’s the time of day! You’ll be a fine young cracksman afore the old file now.” With these words he pulled up the smock-frock; and, winding it round his middle, drew a chair to the fire, and placed his feet upon the hob. “See there, Faguey,” he said, pointing disconsolately to his top boots; “not a drop of Day and Martin since you know when; not a bubble of blacking, by Jove! But don’t look at me in that way, man. All in good time. I can’t talk about business till I’ve eat and drank; so produce the sustainance, and let’s have a quiet fill-out for the first time these three days!” The Jew motioned to the Dodger to place what eatables there were, upon the table; and, seating himself opposite the housebreaker, waited his leisure. To judge from appearances, Toby was by no means in a hurry to open the conversation. At first, the Jew contented himself with patiently watching his countenance, as if to gain from its expression some clue to the intelligence he brought; but in vain. He looked tired and worn, but there was the same complacent repose upon his features that they always wore: and through dirt, and beard, and whisker, there still shone, unimpaired, the self-satisfied smirk of flash Toby Crackit. Then the Jew, in an agony of impatience, watched every morsel he put into his mouth; pacing up and down the room, meanwhile, in irrepressible excitement. It was all of no use. Toby continued to eat with the utmost outward indifference, until he could eat no more; then, ordering the Dodger out, he closed the door, mixed a glass of spirits and water, and composed himself for talking. “First and foremost, Faguey,” said Toby. “Yes, yes!” interposed the Jew, drawing up his chair. Mr. Crackit stopped to take a draught of spirits and water, and to declare that the gin was excellent; then placing his feet against the low mantelpiece, so as to bring his boots to about the level of his eye, he quietly resumed. “First and foremost, Faguey,” said the housebreaker, “how’s Bill?” “What!” screamed the Jew, starting from his seat. “Why, you don’t mean to say—” began Toby, turning pale. “Mean!” cried the Jew, stamping furiously on the ground. “Where are they? Sikes and the boy! Where are they? Where have they been? Where are they hiding? Why have they not been here?” “The crack failed,” said Toby faintly. “I know it,” replied the Jew, tearing a newspaper from his pocket and pointing to it. “What more?” “They fired and hit the boy. We cut over the fields at the back, with him between us—straight as the crow flies—through hedge and ditch. They gave chase. Damme! the whole country was awake, and the dogs upon us.” “The boy!” “Bill had him on his back, and scudded like the wind. We stopped to take him between us; his head hung down, and he was cold. They were close upon our heels; every man for himself, and each from the gallows! We parted company, and left the youngster lying in a ditch. Alive or dead, that’s all I know about him.” The Jew stopped to hear no more; but uttering a loud yell, and twining his hands in his hair, rushed from the room, and from the house. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved April 2022 from Dickens, Charles,1996. Oliver Twist. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/730/730-h/730-h.htm#chap25 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

Oliver Twist: Chapter XXV

Food and Flavor: A Gastronomic Guide to Health and Good Living - Chapter I 

Manual Or Automatic Testing? The software is invariably created by people, tested by people and, in most cases, used by people. The worst dream of any responsible tester is to miss a serious bug. The tester tries carefully examines the requirements and writes test cases, carefully checks the product, and after the release, the user reports a critical problem within a week. How many bugs that are obvious to others are missing? And, maybe, it's time to work only with automatic testers? Automatic testers or QA Automated tests catch errors earlier, preventing them from ever being deployed. They offer a faster feedback loop for programmers because they do not need to go through each path in their application manually. A well-written test can take milliseconds, and with a good development setup, you don’t even have to leave your editor. If you compare this with the manual approach a hundred times a day, you can save a good chunk of time. This allows developers to more quickly implement functions since they can confidently write code without opening a browser. When applications grow without a reliable test suite, frequent errors silently penetrate their code. And as the application grows, the overall solution is to scale the number of hands on the deck — hiring specialized testers (QA), which will never be as effective as automated tests in trapping regressions. QA increases the time it takes to implement features because developers must communicate with each other with another person. Compared to a set of tests, it's expensive. This does not mean that QA is absolutely useless, but they should be hired in addition to a good test suite, and not as a replacement. Although hand-held testers are not as effective as computers when searching for regressions, they are much better at testing the subjective qualities of software, such as user interfaces. Types of Tests Let's look at the different types of tests. At one end is unit tests. These tests isolate individual components, proving that they provide the expected behavior regardless of the surrounding system. Because of this, unit tests are usually small and fast. In the real world, these components do not exist in a vacuum: they must interact with each other. One component can expect a collaborator to have a specific interface if, in fact, he has a completely different one. Despite the fact that all tests pass, the software as a whole is broken. Here are the integration tests. These tests use the system as a whole, rather than its individual components. They usually do this by simulating a user trying to complete a task in software. Instead of accessing call methods or collaborators calls, integration tests relate to clicking and typing as a user. The best way to create your own test set, using a combination of tests. This is a suite that contains several high-level integration tests that cover the overall functionality of the application, several middle-level tests that cover the subsystem in more detail, and many unit tests to cover the details of each component. This approach corresponds to the strength of each type of test when trying to minimize their disadvantages, for example, a slow execution time. Development process stages Test Driven Development Process Automated tests are probably the best way to gain confidence in a growing code base. To increase this confidence and achieve big gains in time saving and clean code, it is recommended to write code using a process called Test Driven Development. TDD is a process that uses tests to develop designs and applications. It starts with the Red, Green, Refactor development cycle. Red, Green, Refactor is a series of steps that lead to the development of this function or the correction of an error. When solving problems with TDD, you need to decide where to start testing the code. Starting from a high level, checking how the user interacts with the system, and then turn to zero? Or start with a low-level development and move towards the final function? The answer will vary from person to person and function to function. If a test is originally written, it does not mean that test development is used. When performing a Red, Green, Refactor cycle, it is important to write code only in response to error messages that result from testing failures. This ensures that functions that are not tested will not be implemented. Behavior Driven Development Process The software development methodology Behavior Driven Development is an offshoot from Test Driven Development. The main idea of this methodology is to combine in the process of developing purely technical interests and business interests, thereby allowing management staff and programmers to speak the same language. For communication between these sides, natural language constructs understandable to a non-expert is used, such as admin panels, registration forms that usually express the behavior of a software product and the expected results. The BDD methodology is an extension of TDD in the sense that before writing any test, you must first describe the desired result of the added functionality in a subject-oriented language. After this is done, the constructions of this language are translated by experts or special software into the test description. Domain Driven Design BDD can also be described as the intersection between Domain-Driven Design (DDD) and TDD. Domain-Driven design is an approach to software development aiming to deal with projects with complex business rules where collaboration between developers and domain experts (typically, this role is assumed by the client) is necessary to set a common language and a domain model that can be translated into very specific and detailed requirements. In BDD, these specific requirements are used to drive the development process in the first step of its cycle. From business to tech testing process What Do Our Guys Use For Testing? For our team, testing is first and foremost a good tone rule. We created our own set of tools and applications and didn’t give up on manual testing at all, which in our opinion is considered optimal in the work of each IT company. Let's review the tools we have chosen for testing. 1. RSPEC To verify Ruby code, use a tool written in Ruby RSpec. This is a behavior-based development environment (BDD) and writing sufficient code (TDD). The entire work of the Amoniac team aimed at the clarity of development and the satisfaction of the end customer. That is why We selected RSpec because we consider it the best and most effective tool in our testing work. 2. TURNIP Turnip is an open source Ruby gem that provides a platform for acceptance tests and aims to solve some of the issues faced when writing specifications with Cucumber. Cucumber supports various programming languages and is also very popular as an acceptance testing framework. Turnip works like Cucumber as it is a framework that primarily supports acceptance testing. Although Turnip is not as feature-rich as Cucumber, it is simple and powerful, which makes acceptance testing easier and more accessible. 3. FACTORY BOT Factory Bot is a helper for writing factories for Ruby tests. It was previously known as Factory Girl. For older versions, use FactoryGirl instead of FactoryBot. This library is used to conveniently create instances of models, something on which we will test. For example, some Users, and Articles, and Projects, and with Task. We cannot create objects every time by filling in all required fields. This is where the Factory Bot will come in handy. It is enough to define a pattern once and then generate new entities based on it. 4. VCR Approach for preventing external requests is to record a live interaction and ‘replay’ it back during tests. The VCR gem has a concept of cassettes which will record your test suites outgoing HTTP requests and then replay them for future test runs. Considerations when using VCR: Communication on how cassettes are shared with other developers. Needs the external service to be available for a first test run. Difficult to simulate errors. The VCR gem is really useful if you have methods that need to make an API request. You don’t want to make API requests during tests, especially if the API has some kind of rate limit. What you could do is create a text file mocking the response you get from the web service you’re making the API to and do the tests that way, or you can use the VCR gem. 5. WEBMOCK WebMock is a library for stubbing HTTP requests and setting expectations on HTTP requests in Ruby. With WebMock, developers can match requests based on method, URI, headers, and body, and match the same headers in different representations. Summary And in the end, we can easily say that yes, testing is a huge lion's share of the time saved as by the developer and as the end client. It is this work that allows you to make exactly the product you see in a head in the end, and this is a guarantee to a client that it works flawlessly. Set of tools are capable of testing in seconds and in this case, writing a test will be a time saving and not vice versa. Writing a test gives error messages, the test that will tell you what to do next. And, perhaps, it looks like a kind of robotization, but with a growing number of projects and their scale, it becomes just a necessity. But should never forget that on the way of testing there can be a significant number of traps and anti-patterns that should be avoided, because a poorly written test can have the opposite effect and lead to a crash. The test gives you confidence that you can move on. Both software and QA could and should be used together to tame existing projects and solve larger and more complex ones!

Effective Testing in Complex Software Development Projects

Despite its utopian reputation, Scandinavia is a cyber battlefield with data breaches and malware campaigns wreaking havoc. In addition to geographic, historical and cultural ties, another noteworthy hallmark shared by Scandinavian countries is the ubiquitous digitalization of their economies and the citizens’ day-to-day activities. This region boasts some of the highest across the board, reaching 97%. Moreover, Sweden and Norway in the world by average connection speeds, respectively. The large-scale deployment of fiber optic and LTE infrastructure ensures that even people living on remote islands have unrestricted access to top-notch technologies. Internet penetration rates rank the second and third If you put two and two together, you get a juicy potential target for malicious actors. Being in the spotlight of cybercriminals is a major, yet inevitable flip side of the tech progress and welfare. The fact that people and businesses in Scandinavia heavily rely on big data and connectivity means that online adversaries have a lot to steal, defraud or even hold for ransom. How big is the issue? According to a recent , 21% of Norwegian businesses suffered incidents involving viruses and malware throughout 2017. Two out of three companies in Denmark were subject to attempts of cyber attacks in 2017, with more than 10% of those incursions being successful. The scope of malicious digital raids in Sweden has grown so big over the past few years that cybersecurity of the country’s national security policy in 2018. It comes as no surprise that the adverse tendency is starting to give Scandinavian businesses and governments a heads-up. data breach survey reportedly became a priority component Cybercrime trends in Scandinavia The region isn’t homogeneous in terms of the of malicious online activity. In Denmark, different forms of malware dominate the threat landscape. One such sample dubbed Mazar has been circulating within the country via booby-trapped links arriving at Android devices in text messages. When on board, the culprit eavesdrops on the victim’s web surfing information and steals sensitive data, including passwords and e-banking details. vectors CEO frauds and investment scams are amongst Norway’s biggest concerns in the security context. The victims are lured into investing in a new startup or cryptocurrency ICO (initial coin offering) with allegedly high returns. Having raised the funds, the crooks vanish without a trace. Another common tactic is to impersonate a company’s executive by hacking their email account and then dupe the staff into transferring funds to a rogue destination. Phishing is the scourge of the cybersecurity realm in Sweden. Its peculiar type referred to as “vishing” has been gearing up for a rise lately. The con artists cold call users while passing themselves off as representatives of a reputable company, such as Microsoft, and offer “tech support assistance”. They ask the target user to allow a session of remote connection to their computer, only to pilfer private data or install viruses. On top of that, major data breaches are the common denominator in Scandinavia’s cyber threat ecosystem. These incidents are massive when it comes to the victim count, and the consequences are potentially devastating. Notorious incidents Here’s a lowdown on some of the large-scale breaches and malware outbreaks with “Nordic” flavor that have incentivized Scandinavian countries to bolster their cybersecurity practices. · In early January 2018, a hacking crew of more than half of Norway’s population. The adversaries targeted an entity called Health South-East RHF, which provides healthcare services in 18 counties, including the capital city Oslo. The organization’s authority spans about 3 million Norwegians, with the country’s total population being 5.2 million citizens. compromised the medical records By the time the IT personnel identified anomalous traffic patterns, the data leak was in full swing, exposing numerous customers’ personal information. Analysts claim the malefactors may take advantage of this data by orchestrating successful future frauds that will appear highly trustworthy. · A serious in Sweden hit the headlines in September 2017. A group of threat actors had allegedly defrauded several dozen businesses, financial institutions and individuals of 40 million kronor (worth about $5 million). The felons sent phishing emails with trojanized attachments to potential targets, which included law firms, government departments, and four banks. The high-profile victims that got on the hook were the country’s leading Swedbank and the Swedish Prison and Probation Service. data leak incident The malicious email attachment contained obfuscated code that enabled the hackers to access the host computers and send payments to their own accounts, some of which were in Hong Kong and Kosovo. In the aftermath of the incident, eight suspects were apprehended for the breach and faced trial. · Back in December 2011, a hacker gang calling themselves “Team Appunity” compromised the database of Hemmelig.com, Norway’s major sex services website. The hacktivists ended up making the list of 26,000 “clients” publicly available. This shaped up to be a for some Norwegian politicians, celebrities, business leaders, military officers and other representatives of the national elite who turned out to have registered accounts with the embarrassing online marketplace. In an anonymous commentary to local media, the attackers said the service wasn’t well secured, and it took them mere minutes to hack it. predicament · A hacking group dubbed “Noria” the Twitter profile and two email accounts of Anders Breivik Behring, the infamous mass murderer who killed 77 people in Norway in July 2011. Despite the society’s generally approving reaction to this hack, it put the validity of important evidence regarding the tragedy at risk. Norwegian law enforcement agencies tracked down and of the group aged 17 to 21 in December the same year. breached arrested five members The punishment is no big deal The Scandinavian penal codes aren’t too severe in terms of cyber offenses. In and , most of these crimes entail a penalty not exceeding two years of imprisonment. In the international context, that’s not the worst-case scenario for computer criminals. Just to illustrate the difference, the provisions of the U.S. Computer Fraud and Abuse Act (CFAA) sanction up to five years in jail for first offense and 10-20 years for second offense. Norway Sweden In practice, the punishment for cybercrimes in Scandinavia can be much milder. This was the case with a Swedish Transport Agency official who was fined half of her monthly salary for negligently of millions of citizens to foreign third-party contractors. Obviously, the laws aren’t much of a restraint for cybercrooks in the region. leaking the personal data Summary Although life in Scandinavia seems quiet and hassle-free on the outside, the region is a cyber battlefield with data breaches and malware campaigns wreaking havoc off and on. It’s probably not by chance that the plot of “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” movie, where the main character is an outcast computer hacker, takes place in Sweden. As the existing security practices don’t appear effective enough to thwart the epidemic, the governments are working on strategic plans to make the defenses more proactive. Meanwhile, users and businesses should stay vigilant when it comes to telltale signals of malicious activity, such as social engineering and spam-based malware distribution. Data in transition can be encrypted and protected when using services Also, leveraging two-factor authentication to protect online accounts is definitely worthwhile as it can stop hackers in their tracks. reliable VPN

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