OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/The Merchant’s Wife and the Parrot

Second-level story, contained in The Malice of Women
THE MERCHANT’S WIFE AND THE PARROT.
There was once a merchant who travelled much, and had a fair wife, whom he loved, and was jealous over her, by reason of the greatness of his love. So he bought her for a hundred dinars a green parrot, which talked like a man and used to tell him all that passed in his absence. Whilst he was abroad on one of his voyages, his wife fell in love with a young Turk, who used to visit her, and she entertained him and lay with him whilst her husband was away. When the latter returned, the parrot told him what had happened, whereat he was sore enraged and offered to kill his wife; but she said, “O man, fear God and return to thy wits. How can a bird have sense or understanding? If thou wilt that I make this manifest to thee, so thou mayst know its truth from its leasing, go this night and lie with one of thy friends, and in the morning come back and question the parrot [of what passed during the night,] and thou wilt see if it speak truth or not.”
​The husband accordingly went forth and passed the night with one of his friends, whilst, as soon as it was dark, the wife covered the parrot’s cage with a piece of leather and fell to sprinkling water on it from above. Moreover, she fanned it sharply with a fan and flashed light on it from the lantern, as it were the glancing lightning, grinding the while at the hand-mill. Thus she did, without ceasing, till daybreak; and the parrot thought that the sprinkling of the water on its cage was rain and the fanning a stormy wind and the flashing of the lantern lightning and the noise of the hand-mill thunder. When her husband returned, she bade him question the parrot; so he went up to the cage and began to talk with the bird and question it of the past night. Quoth it, “O my lord, who could see or hear aught last night?” “And why so?” asked he. “Because,” replied it, “of the much rain and wind and thunder and lightning.” “Thou liest,” said the merchant. “There was nothing of all this last night.” Quoth the bird, “I tell thee but what I saw and heard.” Then was he certified that the parrot had lied in all it had told him of his wife and would have made his peace with the latter; but she said, “By Allah, I will not be friends with thee, till thou kill this parrot that lied to thee of me.” So he rose and killed the parrot; but, a few days after, he saw the young Turk come forth of his house and knew that the parrot had spoken the truth and repented of having slain it. Then he went in at once to his wife and cut her throat and casting her into the river, vowed never to take another wife.
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This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/The Niggard and the Loaves of Bread

Second-level story, contained in The Malice of Women
THE NIGGARD AND THE LOAVES OF BREAD.
There was once a merchant, who was niggardly in his eating and drinking. One day, he went on a journey to a certain town and as he walked in the market streets, he came upon an old woman with two cakes of bread. He asked her if they were for sale, and she said, “Yes.” So he chaffered with her and bought them at a low price and took them home to his lodging, where he ate them that day. On the morrow, he returned to the same place and finding the old woman there with other two cakes, bought these also; and thus he did twenty days’ space, at the end of which time the old woman disappeared. He made ​enquiry for her, but could hear nothing of her, till, one day, as he was walking about the streets, he chanced upon her; so he accosted her and asked why she had ceased to attend the market and bring him the two cakes of bread. At first, she evaded giving him a reply; but he conjured her to tell him; so she said, “Know, O my lord, that I was attending upon a certain man, who had an ulcer on his spine, and his doctor used to knead flour with butter into a plaster and lay it on the place of the pain, where it abode all night. In the morning, I used to take the flour and make it into two cakes, which I sold to thee or another; but presently the man died and I was cut off from making the cakes.” When the merchant heard this, he repented, whenas repentance availed nothing, saying, “Verily, we are God’s and to Him we return! Night dlxxxi.There is no power and no virtue but in Him, the Most High, the Supreme!” And he repeated the saying of the Most High, “Whatsoever betideth thee of good, it is from God, and whatsoever betideth thee of ill, it is from thyself,” and vomited till he fell sick.
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This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/The Merchant and the Two Sharpers

Second-level story, contained in The Hedgehog and the Pigeons
THE MERCHANT AND THE TWO SHARPERS.
There was once in a city called Sendeh a very wealthy merchant, who made ready merchandise and set out with it for such a city, thinking to sell it there. There followed him two sharpers, who had made up into bales what goods they could get and giving out to him that they also were merchants, companied with him by the way. At the first halting-place, they agreed to play him false and take his goods; but, at the same time, each purposed inwardly foul play to the other, saying in himself, “If I can cheat my comrade, it will be well for me and I shall have all to myself.” So each took food and putting therein poison, brought it to his fellow; and they both ate of the poisoned mess and died. Now they had been sitting talking with the merchant; so when they left him and were long absent from him, he sought for them and found them both dead; whereby he knew that they were sharpers, who had plotted to play him foul, but their treachery had recoiled upon themselves; so the merchant was preserved and took what they had.’”
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/The Mouse and the Weasel

First-level story, told by Shehrzad
THE MOUSE AND THE WEASEL.
A mouse and a weasel once dwelt in the house of a poor peasant, one of whose friends fell sick and the doctor prescribed him husked sesame. So he sought of one of his comrades sesame and gave the peasant a measure thereof to husk for him; and he carried it home to his wife and bade her dress it. So she steeped it and husked it and spread it out to dry. When the weasel saw the grain, he came up to it and fell to carrying it away to his hole, nor stinted all day, till he had borne off the most of it. Presently, in came the peasant’s wife, and seeing great part of the sesame gone, stood awhile wondering; after which she sat down to watch and find out the cause. After awhile, out came the weasel to carry off more of the grain, but spying the woman seated there, knew that she was on the watch for him and said to himself, ‘Verily, this affair is like to end ill. I fear me this woman is on the watch for me and Fortune is no friend to those who look not to the issues: so I must do a fair deed, whereby I may manifest my innocence and wash out all the ill I have done.’ So saying, he began to take of the sesame in his hole and ​carry it out and lay it back upon the rest. The woman stood by and seeing the weasel do thus, said in herself, ‘Verily, this is not the thief, for he brings it back from the hole of him that stole it and returns it to its place. Indeed, he hath done us a kindness in restoring us the sesame and the reward of those that do us good is that we do them the like. It is clear that this is not he who stole the grain. But I will not leave watching till I find out who is the thief.’ The weasel guessed what was in her mind, so he went to the mouse and said to her, ‘O my sister, there is no good in him who does not observe the claims of neighbourship and shows no constancy in friendship.’ ‘True, O my friend,’ answered the mouse, ‘and I delight in thee and in thy neighbourhood; but what is the motive of thy speech?’ Quoth the weasel, ‘The master of the house has brought home sesame and has eaten his fill of it, he and his family, and left much; every living soul has eaten of it, and if thou take of it in thy turn, thou art worthier thereof than any other.’ This pleased the mouse and she chirped and danced and frisked her ears and tail, and greed for the grain deluded her; so she rose at once and issuing forth of her hole, saw the sesame peeled and dry, shining with whiteness, and the woman sitting watching, armed with a stick. The mouse could not contain herself, but taking no thought to the issue of the affair, ran up to the sesame and fell to messing it and eating of it; whereupon the woman smote her with the stick and cleft her head in twain: so her greed and heedlessness of the issue of her actions led to her destruction.”
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Bluebell (Anne Brontë)

A fine and subtle spirit dwells In every little flower, Each one its own sweet feeling breathes With more or less of power. There is a silent eloquence In every wild bluebell That fills my softened heart with bliss That words could never tell.
Yet I recall not long ago A bright and sunny day, 'Twas when I led a toilsome life So many leagues away;
That day along a sunny road All carelessly I strayed, Between two banks where smiling flowers Their varied hues displayed.
Before me rose a lofty hill, Behind me lay the sea, My heart was not so heavy then As it was wont to be.
Less harassed than at other times I saw the scene was fair, And spoke and laughed to those around, As if I knew no care.
But when I looked upon the bank My wandering glances fell Upon a little trembling flower, A single sweet bluebell.
Whence came that rising in my throat, That dimness in my eye? Why did those burning drops distil - Those bitter feelings rise?
O, that lone flower recalled to me My happy childhood's hours When bluebells seemed like fairy gifts A prize among the flowers,
Those sunny days of merriment When heart and soul were free, And when I dwelt with kindred hearts That loved and cared for me.
I had not then mid heartless crowds To spend a thankless life In seeking after others' weal With anxious toil and strife.
'Sad wanderer, weep those blissful times That never may return!' The lovely floweret seemed to say, And thus it made me mourn.
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
# The Bluebell

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Bluebell."
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This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* The Bluebell, a poem by Emily Brontë.
* The Bluebell, a poem by Anne Brontë.
# The Blunder is in estimate

The Blunder is in estimate. Eternity is there We say, as of a Station — Meanwhile he is so near
He joins me in my Ramble — Divides abode with me — No Friend have I that so persists As this Eternity.
# The Bobbsey Twins

* related portals: Children's literature, Stratemeyer Syndicate.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article.
Book 1 in the Bobbsey Twins series
THE BOBBSEY TWINS
OR
MERRY DAYS INDOORS AND OUT
BY
LAURA LEE HOPE
AUTHOR OF "THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE COUNTRY." "THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE SEASHORE," ETC.
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY
THE MERSHON COMPANY
All rights reserved
THE KITE WENT UP INTO THE AIR AND SNOOP WITH IT.—P. 177.
CONTENTS
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
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Rhapsody

RHAPSODY
I am glad daylong for the gift of song,
For time and change and sorrow;
For the sunset wings and the world-end things
Which hang on the edge of to-morrow.
I am glad for my heart whose gates apart
Are the entrance-place of wonders,
Where dreams come in from the rush and din
Like sheep from the rains and thunders.
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Paul Laurence Dunbar

PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR
He came, a youth, singing in the dawn
Of a new freedom, glowing o'er his lyre,
Refining, as with great Apollo's lire,
His people's gift of song. And thereupon,
This Negro singer, come to Helicon
Constrained the masters, listening to admire.
And roused a race to wonder and aspire,
Gazing which way their honest voice was gone,
With ebon face uplit of glory's crest.
Men marveled at the singer, strong and sweet,
Who brought the cabin's mirth, the tuneful night,
But faced the morning, beautiful with light, To die while shadows yet fell toward the west,
And leave his laurels at his people's feet.
Dunbar, no poet wears your laurels now;
None rises, singing, from your race like you.
Dark melodist, immortal, though the dew
Fell early on the bays upon your brow,
And tinged with pathos every halcyon vow
And brave endeavor. Silence o'er you threw
Flowerets of love. Or, if an envious few
Of your own people brought no garlands, how
Could Malice smite him whom the gods had crowned?
If, like the meadow-lark, your flight was low
Your flooded lyrics half the hilltops drowned; A wide world heard you, and it loved you so
It stilled its heart to list the strains you sang.
And o'er your happy songs its plaudits rang.
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Ol' Doc' Hyar

OL' DOC HYAR
Ur ol' Hyar lib in ur house on de hill,
He hunner yurs ol' an' nebber wuz ill;
He yurs dee so long an' he eyes so beeg,
An' he laigs so spry dat he dawnce ur jeeg;
He lib so long dat he know ebbry tings
'Bout de beas'ses dat walks an' de bu'ds dat sings—
Dis Ol' Doc' Hyar,
Whar lib up dar
Een ur mighty fine house on ur mighty high hill.
He doctah fur all de beas'ses an' bu'ds—
He put on he specs an' he use beeg wu'ds,
He feel dee pu's' den he look mighty wise,
He pull out he watch an' he shet bofe eyes;
He grab up he hat an' grab up he cane.
Den—"blam!" go de do'—he gone lak de train,
Dis Ol' Doc' Hyar,
Whar lib up dar
Een ur mighty fine house on ur mighty high hill.
Mistah Ba'r fall sick—dee sont fur Doc' Hyar,
"O, Doctah, come queeck, an' see Mr. B'ar;
He mighty nigh daid des sho' ez you b'on!" "Too much ur young peeg, too much ur green co'n,"
Ez he put on he hat, said Ol' Doc' Hyar;
"I'll tek 'long meh lawnce, an' lawnce Mistah B'ar,"
Said Ol' Doc' Hyar,
Whar lib up dar
Een ur mighty fine house on ur mighty high hill.
Mistah B'ar he groaned, Mistah B'ar he growled,
Wile de ol' Miss B'ar an' de chillen howled;
Doctah Hyar tuk out he sha'p li'l lawnce.
An' pyu'ced Mistah B'ar twel he med him prawnce
Den grab up he hat an' grab up he cane
"Blam!" go de do' an' he gone lak de train,
Dis Ol' Doc' Hyar,
Whar lib up dar
Een ur mighty fine house on ur mighty high hill.
But de vay naix day Mistah B'ar he daid;
Wen dee tell Doc' Hyar, he des scratch he haid:
"Ef pahsons git well ur pahsons git wu's,
Money got ter come een de Ol' Hyar's pu's;
Not wut folkses does, but fur wut dee know
Does de folkses git paid"—an' Hyar larfed low,
Dis sma't Ol' Hyar,
Whar lib up dar
Een de mighty fine house on de mighty high hill!
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Sandy Star and Willie Gee

William Stanley Braithwaite
SANDY STAR AND WILLIE GEE
SANDY STAR
I
Sculptured Worship
The zones of warmth around his heart,
No alien airs had crossed; But he awoke one morn to feel
The magic numbness of autumnal frost.
His thoughts were a loose skein of threads,
And tangled emotions, vague and dim;
And sacrificing what he loved
He lost the dearest part of him.
In sculptured worship now he lives,
His one desire a prisoned ache;
If he can never melt again
His very heart will break.
II
Laughing It Out
He had a whim and laughed it out
Upon the exit of a chance;
He floundered in a sea of doubt—
If life was real—or just romance.
Sometimes upon his brow would come
A little pucker of defiance; He totalled in a word the sum
Of all man made of facts and science.
And then a hearty laugh would break,
A reassuring shrug of shoulder;
And we would from his fancy take
A faith in death which made life bolder.
III
Exit
No, his exit by the gate
Will not leave the wind ajar;
He will go when it is late
With a misty star.
One will call, he cannot see;
One will call, he will not hear;
He will take no company
Nor a hope or fear.
We shall smile who loved him so—
They who gave him hate will weep;
But for us the winds will blow
Pulsing through his sleep.
IV
The Way
He could not tell the way he came,
Because his chart was lost:
Yet all his way was paved with flame
From the bourne he crossed.
He did not know the way to go,
Because he had no map:
He followed where the winds blow,—
And the April sap.
He never knew upon his brow
The secret that he bore,—
And laughs away the mystery now
The dark's at his door.
V
Onus Probandi
No more from out the sunset,
No more across the foam,
No more across the windy hills
Will Sandy Star come home.
He went away to search it
With a curse upon his tongue:
And in his hand the staff of life,
Made music as it swung.
I wonder if he found it,
And knows the mystery now—
Our Sandy Star who went away,
With the secret on his brow.
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Oblivion

OBLIVION
From the French of Massillon Coicou (Haiti)
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Oriflamme

ORIFLAMME
"I can remember when I was a little, young girl, how my old mammy would sit out of doors in the evenings and look up at the stars and groan, and I would say, 'Mammy, what makes you groan so?' And she would say, 'I am groaning to think of my poor children; they do not know where I be and I don't know where they be. I look up at the stars and they look up at the stars!'"—Sojourner Truth.
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# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Saint Thomas (West Indies)

Edition of 1879. See also Saint Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
SAINT THOMAS, an island of the West Indies, in the Virgin group, 30 m. E. of Porto Rico, belonging to Denmark; area, about 35 sq. m.; pop. in 1870, 14,007, one tenth white, two thirds black, and the remainder mixed. The island is formed by a mountain ridge extending the whole length and attaining an elevation of 1,480 ft. The shores are deeply indented, and the adjacent waters are studded with islets and rocks. The climate is warm, the thermometer ranging from 70° to 90° F. Hurricanes pass over the island about once in 20 years, and do great damage. Earthquakes are very frequent, but serious shocks do not occur oftener than once in 50 years. There is no running stream, and only one small spring; rain water is collected, and droughts are frequent. The soil is not fertile, and the products of the island are insufficient for one twentieth of its inhabitants. In 1873 there were 571 deaths, the chief cause of which, among resident adults, was consumption. Charlotte Amalie, the only town, contains 11,380 inhabitants, and is built along the shore of an excellent bay on the S. side, in lat. 18° 20' N., lon. 64° 56' W. It is a free port. The streets are paved and generally clean; the houses are supplied with gas, and, although low and poorly built, are comfortable and healthy. The average annual value of imports is $5,000,000, besides coal. Eight regular steam lines touch here, the total steam tonnage averaging 600,000 tons per annum, and the total entries of all classes of vessels 4,300 per annum. Negotiations for the transfer of the island to the United States having been commenced, a vote was taken in 1867, which resulted in 1,244 for and 22 against; but the project fell through in the United States senate.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Salem (New Jersey)

Edition of 1879. See also Salem, New Jersey on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
SALEM, a city and the county seat of Salem co., New Jersey, on a creek of the same name, 3 m. from its mouth in the Delaware river,
32 m. in a direct line and 44 m. by rail S. S. W. of Philadelphia; pop. in 1850, 3,052; in 1860, 3,865; in 1870, 4,555; in 1875, 4,459. The creek is navigable to this point by vessels of 50 tons. There is regular communication with Philadelphia by steamer and by the West Jersey railroad. The city owes its prosperity chiefly to the rich agricultural resources of the surrounding country. It contains manufactories of glassware for druggists' use, oil cloth, carriages, &c., fruit-canning establishments, ship yards, a national bank, two building associations, seven public and six private schools, two weekly newspapers, and eleven churches.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Salem (Oregon)

Edition of 1879. See also Salem, Oregon on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
SALEM, a city and the county seat of Marion co., Oregon, capital of the state, beautifully situated on the E. bank of the Willamette river, and on the Oregon and California railroad, 50 m. S. of Portland; pop. in 1870, 1,139; in 1875, about 6,000. The river is navigable to this point during three fourths of the year, and steamers run regularly to Portland. The city is surrounded by a fertile prairie. Mill creek enters the river at this point, and its rapid fall affords good water power. There are flouring mills, tanneries, machine shops, founderies, a woollen mill, a linseed oil mill, and other manufactories. The city has two private banks, one daily and three weekly newspapers, and eight churches. It is the seat of Willamette university and of three state institutions, the penitentiary, deaf-mute school, and institute for the blind. It was settled in 1834, incorporated in 1853, and became the state capital in 1860.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Saint Thomas (Gulf of Guinea)

Edition of 1879. See also São Tomé Island on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
SAINT THOMAS, an island of the gulf of Guinea, belonging to Portugal, in lat. 20' N., lon. 6° 40' E.; area, 145 sq. m.; pop. about
20,000, mostly blacks. In its centre the peak of St. Anna rises to the height of 7,020 ft. The valleys are fertile. The climate of the lowlands is unhealthy, but the southern part is salubrious. Cotton, sugar, indigo, cocoanuts, canella bark, sweet potatoes, manioc, dates, and maize are produced. The principal article of export is coffee. A Portuguese bishop resides at the capital, St. Thomas, which has about 4,000 inhabitants. The island was discovered on St. Thomas's day, 1471, by Vasconcellos.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Salem (county)

Edition of 1879. See also Salem County, New Jersey on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
SALEM, a S. W. county of New Jersey, bordered W. by the Delaware river, drained by Salem, Alloway's, and other creeks, and traversed by several railroads; area, 540 sq. m.; pop. in 1870, 23,940. The surface is level and the soil a fertile sandy loam. Marl abounds, and iron ore is found. The chief productions in 1870 were 259,777 bushels of wheat, 756,342 of Indian corn, 164,678 of oats, 350,955 of Irish and 220,574 of sweet potatoes, 67,496 of grass seed, 39,454 tons of hay, 11,658 lbs. of wool, and 373,849 of butter. There were 5,155 horses, 630 mules and asses, 7,352 milch cows, 9,946 other cattle, 6,668 sheep, and 9,836 swine; 5 manufactories of carriages and wagons, 3 of window glass, 4 of machinery, 2 of paper, 10 of saddlery and harness, 3 founderies, 5 brick yards, 4 tanneries, 14 flour mills, and 19 saw mills. Capital, Salem.