书荒了，请姐妹们分享你最近读的好书-第1页

书荒了，请姐妹们分享你最近读的好书

前几天买了一本书，结果看到了一个旷世好书评。[table=98%]

The Willpower Instinct: How Self-Control Works, Why It Matters, and What You Can Do to Get More of It

If you need more willpower (don't we all?), then this book is for you.

The author leaves no stone unturned as she cites study after study to explain why we lack willpower and how we can get more of it. An important theme throughout the book is awareness-- once we understand the circumstances under which we fail to exercise willpower, then we can began to make changes. And as the author points out at the close of the book, the mere act of becoming more self-aware is sufficient enough to create change in some people's lives. However, do not mistake this to mean that this is simply a book full of academic theory about willpower; rather, each chapter is replete with "experiments" that provide clear-cut guidance as to how you can put the theory into practice in your own life.

Here's a brief breakdown of each chapter:
1) The author defines willpower, distinguishes between "I will" (I will begin exercising each day) and "I won't" (I won't eat fatty foods) challenges, and discusses how we have essentially two warring sides to our personality (the side that wants instant gratification, and the side that wants to achieve our long-term goals). She suggests tracking your willpower choices to increase your awareness and meditation as a means of building willpower (willpower is like a muscle and can be trained to become stronger over time).

2) The author discusses the evolution of willpower and why a lack of willpower may have served an evolutionary purpose (our ancestors would have been wise to consume large amounts of fatty food if given the opportunity, since there was more uncertainty back then about when their next meal might arise), as well as the ways in which stress reduces our willpower (you are sad after a relationship ended and decide to eat a piece of cake as comfort food). As a means of increasing willpower, the author suggests engaging in focused breathing, outdoor walks or activity (just five minutes is sufficient to have an impact), getting adequate sleep, and lying down to relax.

3) The more frequently we exercise willpower, the easier it becomes. Willpower can become drained, and it ebbs and flows throughout the day. Sometimes we think our willpower is exhausted but this is just our brain trying to trick us into conserving energy-- this explains how long-distance runners are able to push on. The author suggests eating a better diet and engaging in certain activities intended to increase willpower.

4) This is easily one of the best chapters-- the author discusses "moral licensing" and how we can use our good behavior (not eating chocolate cake) to justify being bad (eating chocolate cake). The author's solution is to remind yourself why you were being good in the first place. This section also discusses how we discount the future and assume that tomorrow will be different than today. We tell ourselves we'll have more willpower tomorrow, but the fact is we will face the same challenges tomorrow that we face today.

5) The author discusses the function of dopamine and how it can prompt us to behave like rats pulling a lever to get an electric shock. Many of our willpower failures (e.g., checking email excessively) are simply us pointlessly trying to get a reward because of a rush of dopamine (that occurs when we hear a trigger, like "You've got mail!"). Fortunately, by understanding how dopamine works we can turn it to our advantage by linking rewards to tasks that we've been procrastinating.

6) This chapter was counterintuitive and thus incredibly helpful. It turns out that beating yourself up over willpower failures (e.g., I shouldn't have eaten that Twinkie!) actually makes us more likely to fail again because we're making ourselves sad (and what do we turn to when we're sad? More Twinkies, of course!). The author recommends self-acceptance and positivity instead of guilt and self-criticism-- fantasize about how good you'll feel when you eat healthier foods instead of guilt-tripping yourself about that chocolate bar you ate at lunch.

7) Many of us see the future far different than we see the present-- we naively assume that we'll be more responsible or have more willpower in the future, so we put off onerous tasks for our "future self" to deal with. Unfortunately, our future self is the same person as our present self, and we're only tricking ourselves if we think otherwise. An additional problem is that some of us deeply discount the value of future rewards and place far too much emphasis on present rewards (taking $10 today instead of $50 one year from now). The author suggests thinking more about your future self (e.g., using FutureMe.org to write a letter to your future self) to become accustomed to the notion that you and your future self are one and the same. Also, you can "pre-commit" to your future self by doing things like purchasing an expensive gym membership to exercise, but this struck me as a little superficial as someone who is struggling with willpower can simply ignore the commitments they made. On a side note, the author suggests waiting 10 minutes before engaging in any behavior that the present self is screaming for (I NEED to buy that book now!) that I have found incredibly useful.

8) Willpower is contagious-- if you hang out with a bunch of people who are unmotivated, you will be tempted to "mirror" their behaviors and emotions. "Social proof" even suggests that we engage in foolish behavior due to a herd mentality (everybody else is doing it, so I should do it too). The author recommends finding a willpower idol we can look up to (someone we believe exerts exemplary willpower), spend some time reviewing our goals at the beginning of each day, and publicly commit to our willpower challenges so the pressure of not disappointing our friends and family can motivate us to exercise self-control. I can personally attest to the power of publicly committing to a challenge, as I thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2012 and saw many hikers continue onward simply because they didn't want to tell everyone they didn't have what it takes to go on. Of course, this strategy isn't fool proof-- otherwise hundreds of people wouldn't quit the trail each year. But knowing that other people are watching is certainly an incentive to exercise willpower. The author also mentions getting a willpower buddy and holding each other accountable, which works for the same reasons that making a public commitment does.

9) This chapter seemed a little out of place. The book had been discussing willpower and then all of a sudden it takes a U-turn and starts discussing how unpleasant thoughts can intrude in our minds. However, I soon saw the value in what the author was saying as well as how it fits into the overall willpower picture. The main idea is that we cannot control whether we have unhelpful or even disturbing thoughts, and suppressing such thoughts only causes us to focus on them more. Instead, we need to accept these thoughts, but also acknowledge that we are not compelled to act on them. The author cites an entertaining study about a group of people who were asked not to think of white bears but subsequently could think of nothing else. The trick is to allow yourself to permit the thought (or urge, say to smoke a cigarette) rather than fighting it. We can't control our thoughts, but we can control whether we choose to act on them, and trying to suppress our thoughts only increases the probability we will act on them. Again, it's counterintuitive, but it's supported by an ample amount of research which the author weaves into the narrative of the book.

10) A good conclusion, albeit a little brief.

This book is an excellent addition to the positive psychology genre, and I can easily see how this became such a popular class at Stanford (where the author is a professor).

If you want to know why you don't have the willpower you wish you had and how you can take action to change this, then stop procrastinating and exercise the willpower to buy this book :)

The Lottery Shirley Jackson 【故事梗概】 6月27日上午，村里一年一度的抽签活动开始了。大概10点钟时，人们已聚集到了广场上。在人口较多的村子里，这样的活动要持续两天。而对一个只有约300人的小村来说，不用两小时一切活动就可结束了。由于正值暑假，孩子们首先聚集到了广场上，嬉笑打闹，有的孩子口袋里已经装满了又光又圆的石头。不一会儿，男人们也开始聚集石块。他们谈论着耕作、拖拉机和税收等事，一切都显得那么平静安逸。随后，女人们也来到了广场。像广场舞会、万圣节等其他活动一样，抽签活动也由萨莫斯先生主持。他拿来一个黑木头箱子，这箱子在村里最年长的人沃奈出生前就开始使用了。村里的邮电局长格瑞维斯先生拿着一个三条腿的凳子跟在他后面。他把凳子放在广场中间，萨莫斯先生把箱子放在上面，另外请了村民马丁和马丁的大儿子帮忙。马丁父子扶着箱子，萨莫斯先生把箱子里的纸条充分搅拌了一番。正式抽签前，有许多工作要做，首先要统计每户的户主，然后再列出每户的成员。有人还记得从前主持抽签仪式的人要作朗诵表演。这种朗诵一点也不悦耳，只不过是每年例行公事罢了。还有，主持要向每一个来抽签的人敬礼。随着时间的流逝，这些仪式都简化了。萨莫斯先生只需向每个前来抽签的人打声招呼就行了。萨莫斯先生刚想宣布抽签开始，哈钦生太太匆匆赶到了。她说自己完全忘了那天是什么日子，并跟萨莫斯先生开玩笑说：“我不到，你们总不至于就开始吧？”。人群中传出一阵笑声。萨莫斯先生核对了一下名单，发现克莱德•堂巴没到。人们说，他前几天腿摔断了，无法到场。按规定，如果户主不到，则由这家成年的男孩代抽签，如果男孩尚未成年，则由这家的主妇代抽。抽签正式开始了。萨莫斯先生按照名单上的顺序叫着各家户主的名字，人们依次来到箱子前抽出一张纸条。所有的家庭抽完后，大家都默不作声。萨莫斯先生宣布大家同时打开手中的纸条，所有的妇女们都异口同声地问：“谁家抽中了？”结果哈钦生先生抽中了。哈钦生太太对着萨莫斯先生大叫不公平，说哈钦生没有足够的时间抽自己想抽的纸条，但一切已无法改变。于是，哈钦生夫妇和三个孩子分别再抽一次。谁的纸条上有黑点，谁就是被选中的人。结果，抽中的是哈钦生太太。尽管人们早已忘却以前的各种仪式，但他们都记得要使用石头。哈钦生太太站在广场中央，绝望地说：“这不公平。”随即，所有的村民挥舞着石头向她砸去。教师点评】这个故事看上去有点荒诞不经，甚至不可信，但如果将其与艾伦•坡或卡夫卡的部分作品加以比较阅读的话，我们就会发现，作品在诸多层面上深刻揭示了人类生存状况。可能正是由于这一原因，这个短篇自从1948年在《纽约客》上发表以来，一直深受批评家的好评。读完这个作品，让人最感不安的是，原来生命并无什么尊严可言。一条鲜活的生命，通过群众抽签就可以冷漠地、儿戏般地任其结束。哈钦生太太放下手中的活，匆匆忙忙从家里赶到村里广场上去的那一刻，也许不一定意识到自己的末日，就像读者也不一定都能意识到一样。她赶去广场，大概就像往年一样，只是为了履行参与仪式的义务，然后看看热闹，充当一下“合法的暴民”，向那中签的“替罪羊”扔些石头。她对生存的麻木不仁其实很有象征意味，在某种意义上，她可以代表本村的每一位成员，不分男女老少，也包括她的丈夫。这大概就是作品本身所要揭示的深刻意义。从中我们不难看出作者对政治、法律、战争以及宗教、传统、习俗等社会建制的深刻反省。【作品欣赏】 The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o'clock; in some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and had to be started on June 2th. but in this village, where there were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two hours, so it could begin at ten o'clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner. The children assembled first, of course. School was recently over for the summer, and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on most of them; they tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous play. and their talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands. Bobby Martin had already stuffed his pockets full of stones, and the other boys soon followed his example, selecting the smoothest and roundest stones; Bobby and Harry Jones and Dickie Delacroix-- the villagers pronounced this name "Dellacroy"--eventually made a great pile of stones in one corner of the square and guarded it against the raids of the other boys. The girls stood aside, talking among themselves, looking over their shoulders at the boys. and the very small children rolled in the dust or clung to the hands of their older brothers or sisters. Soon the men began to gather. surveying their own children, speaking of planting and rain, tractors and taxes. They stood together, away from the pile of stones in the corner, and their jokes were quiet and they smiled rather than laughed. The women, wearing faded house dresses and sweaters, came shortly after their menfolk. They greeted one another and exchanged bits of gossip as they went to join their husbands. Soon the women, standing by their husbands, began to call to their children, and the children came reluctantly, having to be called four or five times. Bobby Martin ducked under his mother's grasping hand and ran, laughing, back to the pile of stones. His father spoke up sharply, and Bobby came quickly and took his place between his father and his oldest brother. The lottery was conducted--as were the square dances, the teen club, the Halloween program--by Mr. Summers. who had time and energy to devote to civic activities. He was a round-faced, jovial man and he ran the coal business, and people were sorry for him. because he had no children and his wife was a scold. When he arrived in the square, carrying the black wooden box, there was a murmur of conversation among the villagers, and he waved and called. "Little late today, folks." The postmaster, Mr. Graves, followed him, carrying a three- legged stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square and Mr. Summers set the black box down on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a space between themselves and the stool. and when Mr. Summers said, "Some of you fellows want to give me a hand?" there was a hesitation before two men. Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter. came forward to hold the box steady on the stool while Mr. Summers stirred up the papers inside it. The original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago, and the black box now resting on the stool had been put into use even before Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town, was born. Mr. Summers spoke frequently to the villagers about making a new box, but no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black box. There was a story that the present box had been made with some pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been constructed when the first people settled down to make a village here. Every year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began talking again about a new box, but every year the subject was allowed to fade off without anything's being done. The black box grew shabbier each year: by now it was no longer completely black but splintered badly along one side to show the original wood color, and in some places faded or stained. Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, held the black box securely on the stool until Mr. Summers had stirred the papers thoroughly with his hand. Because so much of the ritual had been forgotten or discarded, Mr. Summers had been successful in having slips of paper substituted for the chips of wood that had been used for generations. Chips of wood, Mr. Summers had argued. had been all very well when the village was tiny, but now that the population was more than three hundred and likely to keep on growing, it was necessary to use something that would fit more easily into he black box. The night before the lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made up the slips of paper and put them in the box, and it was then taken to the safe of Mr. Summers' coal company and locked up until Mr. Summers was ready to take it to the square next morning. The rest of the year, the box was put way, sometimes one place, sometimes another; it had spent one year in Mr. Graves's barn and another year underfoot in the post office. and sometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there. There was a great deal of fussing to be done before Mr. Summers declared the lottery open. There were the lists to make up--of heads of families. heads of households in each family. members of each household in each family. There was the proper swearing-in of Mr. Summers by the postmaster, as the official of the lottery; at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort, performed by the official of the lottery, a perfunctory. tuneless chant that had been rattled off duly each year; some people believed that the official of the lottery used to stand just so when he said or sang it, others believed that he was supposed to walk among the people, but years and years ago this p3rt of the ritual had been allowed to lapse. There had been, also, a ritual salute, which the official of the lottery had had to use in addressing each person who came up to draw from the box, but this also had changed with time, until now it was felt necessary only for the official to speak to each person approaching. Mr. Summers was very good at all this; in his clean white shirt and blue jeans. with one hand resting carelessly on the black box. he seemed very proper and important as he talked interminably to Mr. Graves and the Martins. Just as Mr. Summers finally left off talking and turned to the assembled villagers, Mrs. Hutchinson came hurriedly along the path to the square, her sweater thrown over her shoulders, and slid into place in the back of the crowd. "Clean forgot what day it was," she said to Mrs. Delacroix, who stood next to her, and they both laughed softly. "Thought my old man was out back stacking wood," Mrs. Hutchinson went on. "and then I looked out the window and the kids was gone, and then I remembered it was the twenty-seventh and came a-running." She dried her hands on her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix said, "You're in time, though. They're still talking away up there." Mrs. Hutchinson craned her neck to see through the crowd and found her husband and children standing near the front. She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a farewell and began to make her way through the crowd. The people separated good-humoredly to let her through: two or three people said. in voices just loud enough to be heard across the crowd, "Here comes your, Missus, Hutchinson," and "Bill, she made it after all." Mrs. Hutchinson reached her husband, and Mr. Summers, who had been waiting, said cheerfully. "Thought we were going to have to get on without you, Tessie." Mrs. Hutchinson said. grinning, "Wouldn't have me leave m'dishes in the sink, now, would you. Joe?," and soft laughter ran through the crowd as the people stirred back into position after Mrs. Hutchinson's arrival. "Well, now." Mr. Summers said soberly, "guess we better get started, get this over with, so's we can go back to work. Anybody ain't here?" "Dunbar." several people said. "Dunbar. Dunbar." Mr. Summers consulted his list. "Clyde Dunbar." he said. "That's right. He's broke his leg, hasn't he? Who's drawing for him?" "Me. I guess," a woman said. and Mr. Summers turned to look at her. "Wife draws for her husband." Mr. Summers said. "Don't you have a grown boy to do it for you, Janey?" Although Mr. Summers and everyone else in the village knew the answer perfectly well, it was the business of the official of the lottery to ask such questions formally. Mr. Summers waited with an expression of polite interest while Mrs. Dunbar answered. "Horace's not but sixteen vet." Mrs. Dunbar said regretfully. "Guess I gotta fill in for the old man this year." "Right." Sr. Summers said. He made a note on the list he was holding. Then he asked, "Watson boy drawing this year?" A tall boy in the crowd raised his hand. "Here," he said. "I m drawing for my mother and me." He blinked his eyes nervously and ducked his head as several voices in the crowd said thin#s like "Good fellow, lack." and "Glad to see your mother's got a man to do it." "Well," Mr. Summers said, "guess that's everyone. Old Man Warner make it?" "Here," a voice said. and Mr. Summers nodded. A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared his throat and looked at the list. "All ready?" he called. "Now, I'll read the names--heads of families first--and the men come up and take a paper out of the box. Keep the paper folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone has had a turn. Everything clear?" The people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the directions: most of them were quiet. wetting their lips. not looking around. Then Mr. Summers raised one hand high and said, "Adams." A man disengaged himself from the crowd and came forward. "Hi. Steve." Mr. Summers said. and Mr. Adams said. "Hi. Joe." They grinned at one another humorlessly and nervously. Then Mr. Adams reached into the black box and took out a folded paper. He held it firmly by one corner as he turned and went hastily back to his place in the crowd. where he stood a little apart from his family. not looking down at his hand. "Allen." Mr. Summers said. "Anderson.... Bentham." "Seems like there's no time at all between lotteries any more." Mrs. Delacroix said to Mrs. Graves in the back row. "Seems like we got through with the last one only last week." "Time sure goes fast.-- Mrs. Graves said. "Clark.... Delacroix" "There goes my old man." Mrs. Delacroix said. She held her breath while her husband went forward. "Dunbar," Mr. Summers said, and Mrs. Dunbar went steadily to the box while one of the women said. "Go on. Janey," and another said, "There she goes." "We're next." Mrs. Graves said. She watched while Mr. Graves came around from the side of the box, greeted Mr. Summers gravely and selected a slip of paper from the box. By now, all through the crowd there were men holding the small folded papers in their large hand. turning them over and over nervously Mrs. Dunbar and her two sons stood together, Mrs. Dunbar holding the slip of paper. "Harburt.... Hutchinson." "Get up there, Bill," Mrs. Hutchinson said. and the people near her laughed. "Jones." "They do say," Mr. Adams said to Old Man Warner, who stood next to him, "that over in the north village they're talking of giving up the lottery." Old Man Warner snorted. "Pack of crazy fools," he said. "Listening to the young folks, nothing's good enough for them. Next thing you know, they'll be wanting to go back to living in caves, nobody work any more, live hat way for a while. Used to be a saying about 'Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon.' First thing you know, we'd all be eating stewed chickweed and acorns. There's always been a lottery," he added petulantly. "Bad enough to see young Joe Summers up there joking with everybody." "Some places have already quit lotteries." Mrs. Adams said. "Nothing but trouble in that," Old Man Warner said stoutly. "Pack of young fools." "Martin." And Bobby Martin watched his father go forward. "Overdyke.... Percy." "I wish they'd hurry," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son. "I wish they'd hurry." "They're almost through," her son said. "You get ready to run tell Dad," Mrs. Dunbar said. Mr. Summers called his own name and then stepped forward precisely and selected a slip from the box. Then he called, "Warner." "Seventy-seventh year I been in the lottery," Old Man Warner said as he went through the crowd. "Seventy-seventh time." "Watson" The tall boy came awkwardly through the crowd. Someone said, "Don't be nervous, Jack," and Mr. Summers said, "Take your time, son." "Zanini." After that, there was a long pause, a breathless pause, until Mr. Summers. holding his slip of paper in the air, said, "All right, fellows." For a minute, no one moved, and then all the slips of paper were opened. Suddenly, all the women began to speak at once, saving. "Who is it?," "Who's got it?," "Is it the Dunbars?," "Is it the Watsons?" Then the voices began to say, "It's Hutchinson. It's Bill," "Bill Hutchinson's got it." "Go tell your father," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son. People began to look around to see the Hutchinsons. Bill Hutchinson was standing quiet, staring down at the paper in his hand. Suddenly. Tessie Hutchinson shouted to Mr. Summers. "You didn't give him time enough to take any paper he wanted. I saw you. It wasn't fair!" "Be a good sport, Tessie." Mrs. Delacroix called, and Mrs. Graves said, "All of us took the same chance." "Shut up, Tessie," Bill Hutchinson said. "Well, everyone," Mr. Summers said, "that was done pretty fast, and now we've got to be hurrying a little more to get done in time." He consulted his next list. "Bill," he said, "you draw for the Hutchinson family. You got any other households in the Hutchinsons?" "There's Don and Eva," Mrs. Hutchinson yelled. "Make them take their chance!" "Daughters draw with their husbands' families, Tessie," Mr. Summers said gently. "You know that as well as anyone else." "It wasn't fair," Tessie said. "I guess not, Joe." Bill Hutchinson said regretfully. "My daughter draws with her husband's family; that's only fair. And I've got no other family except the kids." "Then, as far as drawing for families is concerned, it's you," Mr. Summers said in explanation, "and as far as drawing for households is concerned, that's you, too. Right?" "Right," Bill Hutchinson said. "How many kids, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked formally. "Three," Bill Hutchinson said. "There's Bill, Jr., and Nancy, and little Dave. And Tessie and me." "All right, then," Mr. Summers said. "Harry, you got their tickets back?" Mr. Graves nodded and held up the slips of paper. "Put them in the box, then," Mr. Summers directed. "Take Bill's and put it in." "I think we ought to start over," Mrs. Hutchinson said, as quietly as she could. "I tell you it wasn't fair. You didn't give him time enough to choose. Everybody saw that." Mr. Graves had selected the five slips and put them in the box. and he dropped all the papers but those onto the ground. where the breeze caught them and lifted them off. "Listen, everybody," Mrs. Hutchinson was saying to the people around her. "Ready, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked. and Bill Hutchinson, with one quick glance around at his wife and children. nodded. "Remember," Mr. Summers said. "take the slips and keep them folded until each person has taken one. Harry, you help little Dave." Mr. Graves took the hand of the little boy, who came willingly with him up to the box. "Take a paper out of the box, Davy." Mr. Summers said. Davy put his hand into the box and laughed. "Take just one paper." Mr. Summers said. "Harry, you hold it for him." Mr. Graves took the child's hand and removed the folded paper from the tight fist and held it while little Dave stood next to him and looked up at him wonderingly. "Nancy next," Mr. Summers said. Nancy was twelve, and her school friends breathed heavily as she went forward switching her skirt, and took a slip daintily from the box "Bill, Jr.," Mr. Summers said, and Billy, his face red and his feet overlarge, near knocked the box over as he got a paper out. "Tessie," Mr. Summers said. She hesitated for a minute, looking around defiantly. and then set her lips and went up to the box. She snatched a paper out and held it behind her. "Bill," Mr. Summers said, and Bill Hutchinson reached into the box and felt around, bringing his hand out at last with the slip of paper in it. The crowd was quiet. A girl whispered, "I hope it's not Nancy," and the sound of the whisper reached the edges of the crowd. "It's not the way it used to be." Old Man Warner said clearly. "People ain't the way they used to be." "All right," Mr. Summers said. "Open the papers. Harry, you open little Dave's." Mr. Graves opened the slip of paper and there was a general sigh through the crowd as he held it up and everyone could see that it was blank. Nancy and Bill. Jr.. opened theirs at the same time. and both beamed and laughed. turning around to the crowd and holding their slips of paper above their heads. "Tessie," Mr. Summers said. There was a pause, and then Mr. Summers looked at Bill Hutchinson, and Bill unfolded his paper and showed it. It was blank. "It's Tessie," Mr. Summers said, and his voice was hushed. "Show us her paper. Bill." Bill Hutchinson went over to his wife and forced the slip of paper out of her hand. It had a black spot on it, the black spot Mr. Summers had made the night before with the heavy pencil in the coal company office. Bill Hutchinson held it up, and there was a stir in the crowd. "All right, folks." Mr. Summers said. "Let's finish quickly." Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones. The pile of stones the boys had made earlier was ready; there were stones on the ground with the blowing scraps of paper that had come out of the box Delacroix selected a stone so large she had to pick it up with both hands and turned to Mrs. Dunbar. "Come on," she said. "Hurry up." Mr. Dunbar had small stones in both hands, and she said. gasping for breath. "I can't run at all. You'll have to go ahead and I'll catch up with you." The children had stones already. And someone gave little Davy Hutchinson few pebbles. Tessie Hutchinson was in the center of a cleared space by now, and she held her hands out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. "It isn't fair," she said. A stone hit her on the side of the head. Old Man Warner was saying, "Come on, come on, everyone." Steve Adams was in the front of the crowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves beside him. "It isn't fair, it isn't right," Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.