OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Biographical Dictionary of America/Archer, Stevenson

​ARCHER, Stevenson, representative, was born in Hartford county, Md., Feb. 28, 1827; son of Stevenson and Pamelia (Hays) Archer; grandson of Dr. John and Catherine (Harris) Archer; and a descendant of Thomas Archer and Elizabeth Stevenson, who settled in Hartford county, Md., early in the 17th century, having come from Londonderry, Ireland. His father, Stevenson, was graduated from the College of New Jersey in 1805, became a lawyer in Hartford county, Md., was a judge of the court of appeals, a representative from Maryland in the 12th, 13th, 14th and 16th congresses; a U. S. judge for Mississippi territory; and at the time of his death, in 1848, was chief-justice of the Maryland court of appeals. His grandfather, Dr. John Archer (1741-1810), was graduated from Nassau Hall, New Jersey, in 1760, in medicine from the College of Philadelphia, and was a representative in the 7th, 8th and 9th congresses, 1801-'07. Stevenson, Jr., was graduated at the College of New Jersey in 1846, and became a lawyer at Belair, Md. He was a representative in the state legislature in 1854 and in the 40th, 41st, 42d and 43d congresses, 1867-'75. He died at Belair, Md. Aug. 2, 1898.
# The Biographical Dictionary of America/Appleton, Thomas Gold

​APPLETON, Thomas Gold, author, was born in Boston, Mass., March 31, 1812, son of Nathan and Maria (Gold) Appleton. He was graduated at Harvard college in 1831, after which he spent many years in foreign travel. He was a noted connoisseur and a liberal patron of the arts, his gifts to the Boston and Cambridge museums and the Boston public library being especially munificent. His water-color sketches of scenes on the river Nile prove him an artist of talent, while his writings, in both prose and verse, are characterized by a graceful ease and elegance of style that lends a charm even to their charming subjects. A list of his publications includes: "A Sheaf of Papers" (1874); "A Nile Journal," illustrated by Engene Benson (1876); "Syrian Sunshine" (1877); "Windfalls" (1878); and "Chequer Work," a volume of tales and essays (1879). His "Life and Letters," prepared by Susan Hale, was published in 1885. He died in New York, April 17, 1884.
# The Biographical Dictionary of America/Appleton, William

​APPLETON, William, representative, was born at Brookfield, Mass., Nov. 16, 1786, son of Joseph Appleton, a clergyman. His early mercantile training was acquired in a country store. He went to Boston in 1807, where he engaged in commercial business and accumulated a large fortune. From 1832 to 1836 he was president of the United States branch bank, and of the Provident institution for savings. He held the position of president of the Massachusetts general hospital and was prominent in other philanthropic enterprises. By his will he left the sum of $30,000 to the Massachusetts hospital, also liberal legacies to similar institutions. He was elected a representative to the 32d Congress in 1850 on the Whig ticket, and was re-elected to the 33d Congress. He was also a member of the special session of the 37th Congress called in July, 1861, and resigned his seat in August, 1861. He died Feb. 20, 1862.
# The Biographical Dictionary of America/Appleton, William Hyde

​APPLETON, William Hyde, educator, was born in Portland, Me., June 10, 1842. His younger brother was John Howard Appleton, chemist. He prepared for college and entered Harvard university in the class of 1860. After his graduation he studied law, and afterward received the degrees of Master of Arts and Bachelor of Laws from Harvard. He then served as an instructor in Greek at Harvard for two years, and subsequently went abroad, where he studied in the German universities, returning to America in 1872, to become professor of the Greek and German languages in Swarthmore college. After ten years' service in that capacity he was given a year's leave of absence, and in 1881 sailed for another period of study abroad. He spent most of his vacation in study in Greece, and returning in 1882 resumed his work at Swarthmore, as professor of the Greek and English languages and literature. In 1888, the degree of Ph.D. was conferred upon him by Swarthmore college in honor of his long and eminently successful connection with the institution. In 1889 he became acting-president of the college, and in the following year was elected president. Preferring his work as teacher, he consented to hold the office only until a successor should be appointed, and in 1891, upon the election of Charles De Garmo as president, he resumed his former duties. He published in 1893 "Greek-Poets in English Verse."
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 7/Inspired Talks/Thursday, July 18

(RECORDED BY MISS S. E. WALDO, A DISCIPLE)
THURSDAY, July 18, 1895.
(The lesson today was mainly Shankara's argument against the conclusion of the Sânkhya philosophy.)
The Sankhyas say that consciousness is a compound, and beyond that, the last analysis gives us the Purusha, Witness, but that there are many Purushas — each of us is one. Advaita, on the contrary, affirms that Purushas can be only One, that Purusha cannot be conscious, unconscious, or have any qualification, for either these qualities would bind, or they would eventually cease; so the One must be without any qualities, even knowledge, and It cannot be the cause of the universe or of anything. "In the beginning, existence only, One without a second", says the Vedas.
The presence of Sattva with knowledge does not prove that Sattva is the cause of knowledge; on the contrary, Sattva calls out what was already existing in man, as the fire heats an iron ball placed near it by arousing the heat latent in it, not by entering into the ball.
Shankara says, knowledge is not a bondage, because it is the nature of God. The world ever is, whether manifested or unmanifested; so an eternal object exists.
Jnâna-bala-kriyâ (knowledge, power, activity) is God. Nor does He need form, because the finite only needs form to interpose as an obstruction to catch and hold infinite knowledge; but God really needs no such help. There is no "moving soul", there is only one Atman. Jiva (individual soul) is the conscious ruler of this body, in whom the five life principles come into unity, and yet that very Jiva is the Atman, because all is Atman. What you think about it is your delusion and not in the Jiva. You are God, and whatever else you may think is wrong. You must worship the Self in Krishna, not Krishna as Krishna. Only by worshipping the Self can freedom be won. Even personal God is but the Self objectified. "Intense search after my own reality is Bhakti", says Shankara.
All the means we take to reach God are true; it is only like trying to find the pole-star by locating it through the stars that are around it.
The Bhagavad-Gita is the best authority on Vedanta.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 7/Inspired Talks/Tuesday, July 9

(RECORDED BY MISS S. E. WALDO, A DISCIPLE)
TUESDAY, July 9, 1895.
Man as Atman is really free; as man he is bound, changed by every physical condition. As man, he is a machine with an idea of freedom; but this human body is the best and the human mind the highest mind there is. When a man attains to the Atman state, he can take a body, making it to suit himself; he is above law. This is a statement and must be proved. Each one must prove it for himself; we may satisfy ourselves, but we cannot satisfy another. Râja-Yoga is the only science of religion that can be demonstrated; and only what I myself have proved by experience, do I teach. The full ripeness of reason is intuition, but intuition cannot antagonise reason.
Work purifies the heart and so leads to Vidyâ (wisdom). The Buddhists said, doing good to men and to animals were the only works; the Brahmins said that worship and all ceremonials were equally "work" and purified the mind. Shankara declares that "all works, good and bad, are against knowledge". Actions tending to ignorance are sins, not directly, but as causes, because they tend to increase Tamas and Rajas. With Sattva only, comes wisdom. Virtuous deeds take off the veil from knowledge, and knowledge alone can make us see God.
Knowledge can never be created, it can only be discovered; and every man who makes a great discovery is inspired. Only, when it is a spiritual truth he brings, we call him a prophet; and when it is on the physical plane, we call him a scientific man, and we attribute more importance to the former, although the source of all truth is one.
Shankara says, Brahman is the essence, the reality of all knowledge, and that all manifestations as knower, knowing, and known are mere imaginings in Brahman. Ramanuja attributes consciousness to God; the real monists attribute nothing, not even existence in any meaning that we can attach to it. Ramanuja declares that God is the essence of conscious knowledge. Undifferentiated consciousness, when differentiated, becomes the world. . . .
Buddhism, one of the most philosophical religions in the world, spread all through the populace, the common people of India. What a wonderful culture there must have been among the Aryans twenty-five hundred years ago, to be able to grasp ideas!
Buddha was the only great Indian philosopher who would not recognise caste, and not one of his followers remains in India. All the other philosophers pandered more or less to social prejudices; no matter how high they soared, still a bit of the vulture remained in them. As my Master used to say, "The vulture soars high out of sight in the sky, but his eye is ever on a bit of carrion on the earth."
The ancient Hindus were wonderful scholars, veritable living encyclopaedias. They said, "Knowledge in books and money in other people's hands is like no knowledge and no money at all."
Shankara was regarded by many as an incarnation of Shiva.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 7/Inspired Talks/Tuesday, July 2

(RECORDED BY MISS S. E. WALDO, A DISCIPLE)
TUESDAY, July 2, 1895. (The Divine Mother.)
Shâktas worship the Universal Energy as Mother, the sweetest name they know; for the mother is the highest ideal of womanhood in India. When God is worshipped as "Mother", as Love, the Hindus call it the "right-handed" way, and it leads to spirituality but never to material prosperity. When God is worshipped on His terrible side, that is, in the "left-handed" way, it leads usually to great material prosperity, but rarely to spirituality; and eventually it leads to degeneration and the obliteration of the race that practices it.
Mother is the first manifestation of power and is considered a higher idea than father. With the name of Mother comes the idea of Shakti, Divine Energy and Omnipotence, just as the baby believes its mother to be all-powerful, able to do anything. The Divine Mother is the Kundalini ("coiled up" power) sleeping in us; without worshipping Her we can never know ourselves. All-merciful, all-powerful, omnipresent are attributes of Divine Mother. She is the sum total of the energy in the universe. Every manifestation of power in the universe is "Mother". She is life, She is intelligence, She is Love. She is in the universe yet separate from it. She is a person and can be seen and known (as Shri Ramakrishna saw and knew Her). Established in the idea of Mother, we can do anything. She quickly answers prayer.
She can show; Herself to us in any form at any moment. Divine Mother can have form (Rupa) and name (Nâma) or name without form; and as we worship Her in these various aspects we can rise to pure Being, having neither form nor name.
The sum total of all the cells in an organism is one person; so each soul is like one cell and the sum of them is God, and beyond that is the Absolute. The sea calm is the Absolute; the same sea in waves is Divine Mother. She is time, space, and causation. God is Mother and has two natures, the conditioned and the unconditioned. As the former, She is God, nature, and soul (man). As the latter, She is unknown and unknowable. Out of the Unconditioned came the trinity — God, nature, and soul, the triangle of existence. This is the Vishishtâdvaitist idea.
A bit of Mother, a drop, was Krishna, another was Buddha, another was Christ. The worship of even one spark of Mother in our earthly mother leads to greatness. Worship Her if you want love and wisdom.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Auld Gudeman 2

The Auld Gudeman.
[Ramsay gives this in his Tea Table Miscellany as an old piece in his day. It is also be found, words and music, in the Orpheus Caledonius, 1725. "The auld gudeman" means here the first husband.]
Late in an evening forth I went, A little before the sun gaed down And there I chanced, by accident, To light on a battle new begun. A man and his wife were faun in strife; I canna weel tell how it began; But aye she wail'd her wretched life, And cried ever, Alake, my auld gudeman!
He.
The auld gudeman that thou tells of, The country kens where he was born, Was but a puir silly vagabond, And ilka ane leuch him to scorn; For he did spend and mak' an end Of gear that his forefathers wan: He gart the puir stand frae the door: Sae tell nae mair of thy auld gudeman.
She.
My heart, alake, is like to bre.ak, When I think on my winsome John: His blinking een, and gait sae free, Was naething like thee, thou dozent drone.
His rosy face and flaxen hair, And skin as white as ony swan, Was large and tall, and comely withal: And thoult never be like my auld gudeman.
He.
Why dost thou pleen? I thee mainteen; For meal and maut thou disna want: But thy wild bees I canna please, Now when our gear 'gins to grow scant. Of household stuff thou hast enough; Thou wants for neither pot nor pan: Of siclike ware he left thee bare: Sae tell me nae mair of thy auld gudenan.
She.
Yes, I may tell, and fret mysel', To think on the blythe days I had, When he and I thegither lay In arms, into a weel-made bed. But now I sigh, and may be sad; Thy courage is cauld, thy colour wan; Thou foulds thy feet, and fa's asleep: And thoul't never be like my auld gudeman.
Then coming was the nicht sae dark, And gane was a' the licht of day; The carle was fear'd to miss his mark, And therefore wad nae langer stay. Then up he gat, and he ran his way; I trow the wife the day she wan And aye the owerword o' the fray Was ever, Alake, my auld gudeman!
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Auld Man's Mear

The Auld Man's Mear.
[Both the words and air of this song are said to be the composition of Patrick or Patie Birnie, a noted fiddler and rhymer, in Kinghorn, Fifeshire, who flourished towards the close of the 17th and beginning of the 18th centuries, and of whom an excellent portrait by Aikman is still extant at Leslie House. Ramsay, in his Elegy on Patie Birnie, mentions "O wiltu, wiltu do't again," and "The auld man's mear's dead," as songs which Patie "made frae his ain head." We give here two different versions of the song. The second is from "The Scottish Minstrel."]
I.
The auld man's mear's dead; The puir body's mear's dead; The auld man's mear's dead, A mile aboon Dundee.
There was hay to ca', and lint to lead, A hunder hotts o' muck to spread, And peats and truffs and a' to lead— And yet the jaud to dee!
She had the fiercie and the fleuk, The wheezloch and the wanton yeuk; On ilka knee she had a breuk— What ail'd the beast to dee?
She was lang-tooth'd and blench-lippit, Heam-hough'd and haggis-fittit, Lang-neckit, chandler-chaftit, And yet the jaud to dee!
II.
The auld man's mear's dead! The puir man's mear's dead! The auld man's mear's dead, A mile aboon Dundee!
She was cut-luggit, painch-lippit, Steel-waimet, staincher-fittet, Chanler-chaftit, lang-neckit, Yet the brute did dee! The auld, &c.
The auld man's mear's dead! The puir man's mear's dead! The peats, and neeps, and a' to lend, And she is gane—waes me! The auld, &c.
The puir man's head's sair Wi' greetin' for his gray mear; He's like to dee himsel' wi' care, Aside the green kirk-yard. The auld, &c.
He's thinkin' on the bygane days. And a' her douce and canny ways: And how his ain gudewife, auld Meg, Micht maist as weel been spaired. The auld, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Banks of Tay

The Banks of Tay.
[Robert Carmichael, Lundin Mill, near Largo, Fifeshire.—Air, "Roslin Castle."—Here first printed.]
By Grampia's towering mountains high, Whose rocky summits skirt the sky, Wild rolls the queen of Scotia's floods, Adorned by Athole's ancient woods: Along their winding walks in spring, How sweet to hear the wild-birds sing; At peep of dawn, how sweet to stray Adown the bonnie banks of Tay!
Here summer's sun, with golden gleams, Gilds mountain tops, the woods, the streams; Before his early, piercing ray, The wreaths of white mist wheel away, Revealing all the lovely scene;— The woods, thick cloth'd in foliage green, High waving o'er the wild rocks grey Upon the bonnie banks of Tay!
Enchanting scenes! how oft in view To fancy's eye, fresh, blooming, new;— The flowing river, mountain, strath— The winding of each woodland path; And dearer still,—fond friendship's ties, And true love's flame that never dies; All these were mine;—now far away I mourn the bonnie banks of Tay!
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Auld Gudeman 1

The Auld Gudeman.
Laird.
I'll ha'e my coat o' gude snuff-brown, My pouther'd wig to co'er my crown, I'll deck me, Meg, and busk me fine, I'm gaun to court a tocher'd quean.
Meg.
Your hosen, laird, are baith to darn, Your best sark's bleachin', that's but harn, Your coat's a' stour, your wig's to kame, Troth laird, ye'd better bide at hame.
Laird.
Auld Punch will carry Jock, the lad, I'll ride mysel' the lang-tail'd yad, Wi' pistols at my saddle-tree, Weel mounted, as a laird should be.
Meg.
There's peats to cast, the hay's to cuile, The yad's run ow'r the muir a mile, The saddle's stoun, auld Punch is lame, 'Deed, laird, ye'd better bide at hame,
Think, laird, a wee, and look about, Your gear's a' thrivin' in and out,— I'm wae to see you courting dule,— Wha kens but this same quean's a fool?
Laird.
Ay, ay, your drift's no ill to tell, Ye fain wad ha'e me, Meg, yoursel'; But, sure as Blutterbog's my name, I'll court the lass, and bring her hame.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Auld Highlandman

The Auld Highlandman.
[James Hogg.—Tune, "Killiecrankie."]
Hersell pe auchty years and twa, Te twenty-tird o' May, man; She twell amang the Heelan hills, Ayont the reefer Spey, man. Tat year tey foucht the Sherra-muir, She first peheld te licht, man; Tey shot my father in tat stoure— A plaguit, vexin spite, man.
I've feucht in Scotland here at hame, In France and Shermanie, man; And cot tree tespurt pluddy cons, Beyond te 'Lantic sea, man: But wae licht on te nasty cun, Tat ever she pe porn, man; Phile koot klymore te tristle caird, Her leaves pe never torn, man.
Ae tay I shot, and shot, and shot, Phane'er it cam' my turn, man; Put a' te force tat I could gi'e, Te powter wadna purn, man. A filty loun cam' wi' his cun, Resolvt to too me harm, man; And wi' te tirk upon her nose Ke me a pluddy arm, man. ​I flang my cun wi' a' my micht, And fellt his neepour teit, man;
Tan drew my swort, and at a straik Hewt aff te haf o's heit, man. Be vain to tell o' a' my tricks: My oons pe nae tiscrace, man, Ter no pe yin pehint my back, Ter a' pefor my face, man.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Auld Cloak

The Auld Cloak.
[The antiquity of this song is sufficiently proved from a fragment of it being quoted in Shakspeare's tragedy of Othello, published in 1611. Bishop Percy gives an English version of the song in his Reliques of Ancient Poetry, admitting, at the same time, that the song is originally Scotch. The following is the Scottish version, which appears in Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany.]
In winter, when the rain rain'd cauld, And frost and snaw on ilka hill, And Boreas, wi' his blasts sae bauld, Was threat'nin' a' our kye to kill: Then Bell, my wife, who lo'es nae strife, She said to me richt hastilie, Get up, gudeman, save Crummie's life, And tak' your auld cloak about ye.
My Crummie is a usefu' cow, And she is come of a good kin'; Aft has she wet the bairns's mou', And I am laith that she should tyne; Get up, gudeman, it is fu' time, The sun shines frae the lift sae hie; Sloth never made a gracious end; Gae, tak' your auld cloak about ye.
My cloak was ance a gude grey cloak, When it was fitting for my wear; But now it's scantly worth a groat, For I have worn't this thretty year: Let's spend the gear that we ha'e won, We little ken the day we'll die; Then I'll be proud, since I have sworn To ha'e a new cloak about me.
In days when our King Robert rang, His trews they cost but half a croun; He said they were a groat ower dear, And ca'd the tailor thief and loon: He was the king that wore a croun, And thou the man of laigh degree: It's pride puts a' the country doun; Sae tak' your auld cloak about ye.
Ilka land has its ain lauch, Ilk kind o' corn has its ain hool; I think the world is a' gane wrang, When ilka wife her man wad rule: Do ye no see Rob, Jock, and Hab, As they are girded gallantlie, While I sit huyklin i' the aese?— I'll ha'e a new cloak about me.
Gudeman, I wat its thretty year Sin' we did ane anither ken; And we ha'e had atween us twa Of lads and bonnie lasses ten: Now they are women grown and men, I wish and pray weel may they be; If you would prove a gude husband, E'en tak' your auld cloak about ye.
Bell, my wife, she lo'es nae strife, But she would guide me, if she can: And to maintain an easy life, I aft maun yield, though I'm gudeman: ​Nocht's to be gain'd at woman's hand, Unless ye gi'e her a' the plea; Then I'll leave aff where I began, And tak' my auld cloak about me.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Auld Folks

The Auld Folks.
[Andrew Park.—Here first printed.]
The auld folks sit by the fire, When the winter nichts are chill, The auld wife she plies her wire, The auld man he quaffs his yill. An' meikle an' lang they speak O' their youthfu' days gane by, When the rose it was on the cheek, An' the pearl was on the eye!
They talk o' their bairnies' bairns, They talk o' the brave and free, They talk o' their mountain-cairns, And they talk of the rolling sea,— And meikle an' lang they speak O' their youthfu' days gane by, When the rose it was on the cheek, An' the pearl was on the eye!
They talk o' their friends lang gane, And the tear-draps blin' their e'e; They talk o' the cauld kirk stane, Whare sune they baith maun be. Yet each has had their half O' the joys o' this fitful sphere, So whiles the auld folk laugh, And whiles they drap a tear!
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Auld Highlan' Piper

The Auld Highlan’ Piper.
[Said also to be a production of Robert Burns, Junior, eldest son of the poet. It is given in the "Spirit of British Song" (Glasgow, 1825,) where it is stated that it was communicated by the author, before he went to London, to a near relation residing at Mauchline, from whose recitation it was taken down for that work.]
Oh! pity an auld Highlan' piper, An' dinna for want let him dee; Oh! look at my faithfu' wee doggie, The icicle hangs frae his e'e.
I ance had a weel theekit cot-house On Morvala's sea-beaten shore; But our laird turn'd me out frae my cot-house; Alas! I was feckless an' puir.
My twa sons were baith press'd for sailors, An' brave for their kintra did fa'; My auid wife she died soon o' sorrow, An' left me bereft o' them a'.
I downa do ony sair wark, For maist bauld is my lyart auld pow, So I beg wi' my pipes, an' my doggie, An' mony a place we've been through.
I set mysel' down i' the gloamin', An' tak' my wee dog on my knee, An' I play on my pipes wi' sad sorrow, An' the tear trickles doun frae my e'e.
The tear trickles doun frae my e'e, An' my heart's like to break e'en in twa, When I think on my auld wife an' bairns, That now are sae far far awa'.
Come in thou puir lyart auld carle, And here nae mair ill shalt thou dree; As lang as I'm laird o' this manor, There's nane shall gae helpless frae me.
And ye shall get a wee cot-house, An' ye shall get baith milk an' meal; For he that has sent it to me, Has sent it to use it weel.