OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Woman of the Century/Henrica Iliohan

​ILIOHAN, Mrs, Henrica, woman suffragist, born in Vorden, Province of Gelderland, Kingdom of the Netherlands, 3rd May, 1850. Her maiden name was Weenink. Her parents were in good circumstances, her father being a successful architect and builder. HENRICA ILIOHAN. The love of liberty and independence seemed to have been instilled into her from birth, and when but a child her eyes were opened to the different education of boys and girls. She showed a taste and aptitude for the carpenter's trade, and her father's workshop had a fascination for her. When she was eight years of age, she could plane a board as well as an older brother. The workmen would often send her home crying by saying she was a girl and therefore could never be a carpenter. She remembers that this happened when she was so young that to her consciousness the only difference lay in dress, and she would earnestly beg her mother to dress her in her brother's clothes, so that she might become a carpenter. The disability of sex became of more and more importance as she thought and studied upon it. She was but eighteen years of age when her mother died. In 1870 her father sailed with his three children for America, arriving in Albany, N. Y., in May. She was fortunate in being the object of one woman's considerate kindness and patience, in her efforts to learn the English language. In trying to read English she noticed for the first time an article on woman suffrage in the Albany "Journal," in 1871, when Mrs. Lillie Devereaux Blake addressed the assembly and asked the question: "Whom do you think, gentleman of the committee, to be most competent to cast a ballot, the mother who comes from the fireside, or the husband that comes from the corner saloon?" This was to the young discoverer a javelin that struck home, and she made inquiries why women did not and could not vote. Very much interested, she read all that was accessible on the subject, and when, in 1877, the first Woman Suffrage Society of Albany was organized, she became an earnest member. With the remembrance of woman's share in the brave deeds recorded in Dutch history, she gained in courage and enthusiasm and began to express herself publicly. Her first appearance on the lecture platform was a triumph. Encouraged by many, she gained in experience and became one of the acknowledged leaders of the society. She was elected four times a delegate from the society to the annual convention in New York City, and worked during the sessions of the legislature to obtain the consideration of that body. Mrs. Iliohan has also done some good work in translation. "The Religion of Common Sense," from the German of Prof. L. Ulich, is a sample of her ability in that direction. In 1887 she removed, with her family, to Humphrey, Neb., where she has since lived. Since she has been identified with Nebraska and with subjects of reform in that State, she has endeared herself to the leaders and the public.
# While the Billy Boils/Mitchell Doesn't Believe in the Sack

First Published: Bulletin.
MITCHELL DOESN'T BELIEVE IN THE SACK
'If ever I do get a job again,' said Mitchell, 'I'll stick to it while there's a hand's turn of work to do, and put a few pounds together. I won't be the fool I always was. If I'd had sense a couple of years ago, I wouldn't be tramping through this damned sand and mulga now. I'll get a job on a station, or at some toff's house, knocking about the stables and garden, and I'll make up my mind to settle down to graft for four or five years.
"But supposing you git the sack?" said his mate.
'I won't take it. Only for taking the sack I wouldn't be hard-up to-day. The boss might come round and say:―
"I won't want you after this week, Mitchell. I haven't got any more work for you to do. Come up and see me at the office presently."
'So I'll go up and get my money; but I'll be pottering round as usual on Monday, and come up to the kitchen for my breakfast. Some time in the day the boss'll be knocking round and see me.'
"Why, Mitchell," he'll say, "I thought you was gone."
​'I didn't say I was going,' I'll say. 'Who told you that―or what made you think so?'
"I thought I told you on Saturday that I wouldn't want you any more," he'll say, a bit short. "I haven't got enough work to keep a man going; I told you that; I thought you understood. Didn't I give you the sack on Saturday?"
'It's no use; 'I'll say, 'that sort of thing's played out. I've been had too often that way; I've been sacked once too often. Taking the sack's been the cause of all my trouble; I don't believe in it; if I'd never taken the sack I'd have been a rich man to-day; it might be all very well for horses, but it doesn't suit me; it doesn't hurt you, but it hurts me. I made up my mind that when I got a place to suit me, I'd stick in it. I'm comfortable here and satisfied, and you've had no cause to find fault with me. It's no use you trying to sack me, because I won't take it. I've been there before, and you might as well try to catch an old bird with chaff.'
"Well, I won't pay you, and you'd better be off," he'll say, trying not to grin.
'Never mind the money,' I'll say, 'the bit of tucker won't cost you anything, and I'll find something to do round the house till you have some more work. I won't ask you for anything, and, surely to God! I'll find enough to do to pay for my grub!'
'So I'll potter round and take things easy and call up at the kitchen as usual at meal times, and by-and-bye the boss'll think to himself: "Well, if I've got to feed this chap I might as well get some work out of him."
​'So he'll find me something regular to do a bit of fencing, or carpentering, or painting, or something, and then I'll begin to call up for my stuff again, as usual.'
# While the Billy Boils/On the Edge of a Plain

Illustrations by Francis Mahony. First Published: Bulletin, 6 May 1893.
ON THE EDGE OF A PLAIN
'I'd been away from home for eight years,' said Mitchell to his mate, as they dropped their swags in the mulga shade and sat down. 'I hadn't written a letter—kept putting it off, and a blundering fool of a fellow that got down the day before me told the old folks that he'd heard I was dead.'
Here he took a pull at his water-bag.
'When I got home they were all in mourning for me. It was night, and the girl that opened the door screamed and fainted away like a shot.'
He lit his pipe.
'Mother was upstairs howling and moaning in a chair, with all the girls boo-hooing round her for company. The old man was sitting in the back kitchen crying to himself.'
He put his hat down on the ground, dinted in the crown, and poured some water into the hollow for his cattle-pup.
"Poured some water into the hollow."
​dry stretch when you've got a pup that drinks as much as two men.'
He poured a drop more water into the top of his hat.
'Well, mother screamed and nearly fainted when she saw me. Such a picnic you never saw. They kept it up all night. I thought the old cove was gone off his chump. The old woman wouldn't let go my hand for three mortal hours. Have you got the knife?'
He cut up some more tobacco.
'All next day the house was full of neighbours, and the first to come was an old sweetheart of mine; I never thought she cared for me till then. Mother and the girls made me swear never to go away any more; and they kept watching me, and hardly let me go outside for fear I'd'——
'Get drunk?'
'No,—you're smart—for fear I'd clear. At last I swore on the Bible that I'd never leave home while the old folks were alive; and then mother seemed easier in her mind.'
He rolled the pup over and examined its feet. 'I expect I'll have to carry him a bit—his feet are very sore. Well, he's done pretty well this morning, and anyway he won't drink so much when he's carried.'
'You broke your promise about leaving home,' said his mate.
Mitchell stood up, stretched himself, and looked dolefully from his heavy swag to the wide, hot, shadeless cotton-bush plain ahead.
'Oh, yes,' he yawned, 'I stopped at home for a week, and then they began to growl because I couldn't get any work to do.'
​The mate guffawed and Mitchell grinned. They shouldered the swags, with the pup on top of Mitchell's, took up their billies and water-bags, turned their unshaven faces to the wide, hazy distance, and left the timber behind them.
# While the Billy Boils/Mitchell: A Character Sketch

First Published: Bulletin.
MITCHELL: A CHARACTER SKETCH
It was a very mean station, and Mitchell thought he had better go himself and beard the overseer for tucker. His mates were for waiting till the overseer went out on the run, and then trying their luck with the cook; but the self-assertive and diplomatic Mitchell decided to go.
'Good day,' said Mitchell.
'Good day,' said the manager.
'It's hot,' said Mitchell.
'Yes it's hot.'
'I don't suppose,' said Mitchell; 'I don't suppose it's any use asking you for a job?'
'Naw.'
'Well, I won't ask you,' said Mitchell, 'but I don't suppose you want any fencing done?'
'Naw.'
'Nor boundary-riding?'
'Naw.'
'You ain't likely to want a man to knock round?'
'Naw.'
'I thought not. Things are pretty bad just now.'
'Na―yes―they are.'
'Ah, well; there's a lot to be said on the squatter's ​side as well as the men's. I suppose I can get a bit of rations?'
'Ye―yes. (Shortly)―Wot d'yer want?'
' Well, let's see; we want a bit of meat and flour―I think that's all. Got enough tea and sugar to carry us on.'
'All right. Cook! have you got any meat?'
'No!'
To Mitchell: 'Can you kill a sheep?'
'Rather!'
To the cook: 'Give this man a cloth and knife and steel, and let him go up to the yard and kill a sheep? (To Mitchell): 'You can take a fore-quarter and get a bit of flour.'
Half-an-hour later Mitchell came back with the carcase wrapped in the cloth.
'Here yer are; here's your sheep,' he said to the cook.
'That's all right; hang it in there. Did you take a fore-quarter?'
'No.'
'Well, why didn't you? The boss told you to.'
'I didn't want a fore-quarter. I don't like it. I took a hind-quarter.'
So he had.
The cook scratched his head; he seemed to have nothing to say. He thought about trying to think, perhaps, but gave it best. It was too hot and he was out of practice.
'Here, fill these up, will you,' said Mitchell, 'that's the tea-bag, and that's the sugar-bag, and that's the flour-bag.'
​He had taken them from the front of his shirt.
'Don't be frightened to stretch 'em a little, old man, I've got two mates to feed.'
The cook took the bags mechanically and filled them well before he knew what he was doing. Mitchell talked all the time.
'Thank you,' said he―'got a bit of baking-powder?'
'Ye―yes, here you are.'
'Thank you. Find it dull here, don't you?'
'Well, yes, pretty dull. There's a bit of cooked beef and some bread and cake there, if you want it!'
'Thanks,' said Mitchell, sweeping the broken victuals into an old pillow-slip which he carried on his person for such an emergency. 'I 'spose you find it dull round here.'
'Yes, pretty dull.'
'No one to talk to much?'
'No, not many.'
'Tongue gets rusty?'
'Ye-es, sometimes.'
'Well, so long, and thank yer.'
'So long,' said the cook (he nearly added 'thank yer').
'Well, good day; I'll see you again.'
'Good day.'
Mitchell shouldered his spoil and left.
The cook scratched his head; he had a chat with the overseer afterwards, and they agreed that the traveller was a bit gone.
But Mitchell's head wasn't gone―not much: he was a Sydney jackeroo who had been round a bit―that was all.
# Young Lochinvar (1)/Scottish Whisky

SCOTTISH WHISKY.
Ye social sons of Scotia’s isle, Who love to rant and roar, Sir, To drink, to dance, to laugh, to sing, And hie withouten care, Sir; Attend and listen to my lays, ’Twill make you blithe and friskie; I sing, who dare my theme despise? In praise of guid Scots Whisky. O my cheering, care-dispelling, Heart-reviving Whisky; Thou brightens up the gloom of life, That aft look dark and duskie.
Let Frenchmen o’ their bev’rage boast, The juice of Gallic vine, Sir, And Dons and Portuguese rehearse The praises o’ their wine, Sir; I don’t envy them with their tons, Gi’e me a little caskie O’ Caledonia’s nectar pure, The real Scottish Whisky. O my cheering, &c.
Jamaica Rum it’s but a hum, So is the best Antigua; And Holland’s gin no worth a pin, Compar’d wi’ dear Kilbegie. Whoever wants to take a house, Or have a jovial pliskie, They only need to wet their mou’s Wi’ real Scottish Whisky. O my cheering, &c.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Young Lochinvar (1)/The Rose of Dunmore

THE ROSE OF DUNMORE.
As I went a walking out early, Bright Phœbus most sweetly did shine, And the nightingale warbled melodious, As the lusin that falls from the glen. It’s down thro’ a grove where I walked, A while to condole in a shade, On my ⟨destiny⟩ for to ponder, It’s ⟨there⟩ I beheld a sweet maid.
I cast forth my eyes for to view, And thus unto her I did say, You fair has my heart ensnared, How far through the grove dost thou stray? She answered, sir, I will tell you, The truth unto you I’ll explore, Of a matter ⟨that⟩ lately befel me, My dwelling lies near Dunmore.
Once I did love a brave hero, Till my tender heart he did gain, No mortal ever lov’d dearer, But now he is ploughing the main, All under brave Nelson for battle, And our English Navy so brave, Where cannons and guns loudly rattle, Against the proud French on the main.
He says, now my fair, so ensnaring, Perhaps your true love he is slain, ​As many a man fell a victim, And fell by the French on the main; So it might happen with your love, As it hath done with many before, I pray come with me to Rathfriland, And bid a farewell to Dunmore.
How could I be thus so inconstant, And promised so much to be true, To leave my old sweetheart lamenting, And venture all fortune with you; The people would call me hard-hearted, For fidelity to him I’ve swore, That our loves should never be parted, But wait for the youth in Dunmore.
Since it is so now decreed, That I now a victim must fall, I cannot refrain now but mourn, Tho’ I am no better at all. I still live in expectation, Of that charming youth I adore, I hope to my great consolation, To meet him with joy in Dunmore.
Cheeks like the fair beauties blown, Your summer will soon be o’er, October winds will be blown, And blast the sweet rose of Dunmore. I found that her heart was failing, As many had done before; I hoist up my sails for Rathfriland, And gained the sweet rose of Dunmore.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Young Lochinvar (1)/Young Lochinvar

YOUNG LOCHINVAR.
O! Young Lochinvar has come out of the west, Through all the wide border his steed was the ⟨best;⟩ And, save his good broadsword, he weapons ⟨had⟩ ⟨none,⟩ He rode all unarm’d, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for ⟨stone,⟩ He swam the Esk river where ford there was none; But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late; For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Helen of brave Lochinvar.
So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bridemen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all; Then spake the bride’s father, his hand on his ⟨sword⟩ (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word) "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young lord Lochinvar?"
"I long woo’d your daughter, my suit you denied; Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs as its tide— ​And now I am come with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far— That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."
The bride kissed the goblet: the knight took it up, He quaff’d off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She look’d down to blush, and she look’d up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, e’er her mother could bar, 'Now tread we a measure!' said young Lochinvar.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maiden’s whisper’d, ’twere better by far, To have match’d our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach’d the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They’ll have fleet steeds that follow, quoth young Lochinvar!
There was mounting ’mong Grames of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran; ​There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie lea, But the lost bride of Netherby ne’er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have he e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Young Lochinvar (1)/Sleepin' Maggy

SLEEPIN' MAGGY.
Mirk an’ rainy is the night, No a starn in a’ the carry, Lightnings gleam athwart the lift, An’ win’s drive wi’ winter’s fury. O are ye sleepin’, Maggy, O are ye sleepin’, Maggy; ​Let me in ⟨for loud the⟩ linn Is roaring o'er the warlock craigie.
Fearfu’ soughs the boor-tree bank; The ⟨rifted⟩ ⟨wood⟩ ⟨roars⟩ wild an’ dreary, Loud the iron yate does clank, And cry o’ howlets maks me eerie. O are ye sleepin’, Maggy, &c,
Aboon my breath I darena speak, For fear I rouse your waukrife daddie, Cauld’s the blast upon my cheek, O rise, rise my bonny lady! O are ye sleepin’, Maggy, &c.
She’s op’t the door, she’s let him in, He cuist aside his dreeping plaidie; “Blaw your warst ye rain an’ win’, Since now I’m in aside ye, Maggy.”
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Yale Law Journal

The Yale Law Journal is a student-run law review affiliated with the Yale Law School. Published continuously since 1891, it is the most widely known of the eight law reviews published by students at Yale Law School. The journal is one of the most cited legal publications in the nation and usually generates the highest number of citations per published article.
* Volume 1 (1891-92)
* Volume 2 (1892-93)
* Volume 3 (1893-94)
* Volume 4 (1894-95) IA
* Volume 5 (1895-96) IA IA
* Volume 6 (1896-97) IA
* Volume 7 (1897-98) IA
* Volume 8 (1898-99)
* Volume 9 (1899-1900) IA
* Volume 10 (1900-01)
* Volume 11 (1901-02) IA
* Volume 12 (1902-03) IA
* Volume 13 (1903-04)
* Volume 14 (1904-05) IA
* Volume 15 (1905-06)
* Volume 16 (1906-07) IA
* Volume 17 (1907-08)
* Volume 18 (1908-09)
* Volume 19 (1909-10)
* Volume 20 (1910-11)
* Volume 21 (1911-12)
* Volume 22 (1912-13)
* Volume 23 (1913-14)
* Volume 24 (1914-15)
* Volume 25 (1915-16)
* Volume 26 (1916-17)
* Volume 27 (1917-18)
* Volume 28 (1918-19)
* Volume 29 (1919-20)
* Volume 30 (1920-21)
* Volume 31 (1921-22)
* Volume 32
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Yale Law Journal/Volume 27

Notice:This page is a work in progress. Most links do not work at this time. Check back soon!
YALE
LAW JOURNAL
VOLUME XXVII
1917-1918
Published by
Yale Law Journal Company Inc.
New Haven, Conn.
Issues
Issue 1
Issue 2
Issue 3
Issue 4
Issue 5
Issue 6
Issue 7
Issue 8
INDEX
ARTICLES
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Yakus v. United States

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
321 U.S. 414
Yakus v. United States ex rel.Rottenberg
Argued: Jan. 7, 1944. --- Decided: March 27, 1944
[Syllabus from pages 414-416 intentionally omitted]
Mr. Leonard Poretsky, of Boston, Mass., for petitioners.
Mr. Joseph Kruger, of Boston, Mass., for petitioner in No. 374.
Mr. William H. Lewis, of Boston, Mass., for petitioners in 375.
Mr. Charles Fahy, Sol. Gen., of Washington, D.C., for respondent.
Messrs. Maxwell C. Katz, Otto C. Sommerich and Benjamin Busch, of New York City, amici curiae.
Mr. Chief Justice STONE delivered the opinion of the Court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Yale Literary Magazine

* related portals: Periodicals.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, Wikidata item.
The Yale Literary Magazine, founded in 1836, is the oldest literary review in the United States, and publishes poetry and fiction by Yale undergraduates twice per academic year.

## Volume 85
### Issue 752 (Nov 1919)

* As One Who Leaves His Birthplace when a Child, a poem (by Amos Niven Wilder)

### Issue 754 (Jan 1920)

* Moon-Rise, a poem (by Amos Niven Wilder)

### Issue 757 (Apr 1920)

* Winter Night, a poem (by Amos Niven Wilder)

### Issue 759 (Jun 1920)

* Campus Evening Hymn, a poem (by Amos Niven Wilder)
* A Student's Walk (by Amos Niven Wilder)

## Notes

Volume 85 on Google Books.
# Yale Law Journal/Volume 27/Issue 1

Articles
1. The Law as an Expression of Community Ideas and the Lawmaking Functions of Courts
2. The Standardizing of Contracts
3. Matrimonial Domicile
4. Faulty Analysis in Easement and License Cases
# Yale Law Journal/Volume 27/Issue 2

Articles
1. Surviving Fictions
2. Alien Enemy Persons and Corporations in English Law
3. Advancing Freight Rates to Increase Revenues
4. General Assignments and the Bankruptcy Law
5. The Development of Principle in Trespass
6. The Legal Position of the British Army in France