OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Little Jack Rabbit's Adventures/Chapter 22

MUD TURTLE TOWN
The Mud Turtles were having a fine time on the banks of the Old Duck Pond. What is more fun I should like to know than making mud pies and forts, and these little turtles had been busy for several days until they had built a mud city, with bridges and houses, towers and castles.
Goodness me! It was muddy, and the Farmyard Folk were all complaining, except Ducky Waddles. He just loved mud, and found it great fun waddling over the mud bridges. And if they broke down, he didn't mind a muddy splashing! No, indeed he didn't. So, of course, ​he and the Mud Turtles were great friends.
One day Mr. Merry Sun, seeing how things were going on, said to himself: "I guess I'll dry up all the Turtle Mud Houses." So he set to work, shining down from the bright blue sky, and before evening the mud palaces and castles were hard as bricks.
"Hurrah!" he said, just before he went to sleep on the crimson pillows of the West, "I've finished Mud Turtle Town!"
Of course, all this was more or less of an accident, for the Mud Turtles hadn't asked Mr. Merry Sun to help them. But when they saw what he had done, they were delighted, and at once sent out invitations to all the Barnyard Folk to spend a week in Turtle Town.
​Cocky Doodle and Henny Penny accepted at once; so did Goosey Lucy; and as soon as they had packed their things, they set out for the Old Duck Pond.
"I don't think I shall lay an egg while I'm there," said Henny Penny—"I'm not used to Mud Nests."
"Suit yourself," said Cocky Doodle.
"Henny Penny is right," said Goosey Lucy. "It will be a little vacation for us. I, for one, shall be glad to forget all about home duties."
Just then there was a great flapping of wings and Ducky Waddles came wabbling after them. "Why don't you wait for a fellow," he panted. "I'm all out of breath trying to catch up to you. I almost had to fly."
​As they crossed the Old Cow Path they met Little Jack Rabbit hopping home to the Old Bramble Patch.
"We're going to make a visit in Turtle Town," said Henny Penny. "Why don't you come, too?"
"Haven't time," answered the little bunny. "Mother sent me over to Cousin Cottontail for lollypop frosting. She must have it in time to cover the carrot cake for supper."
# Little Jack Rabbit's Adventures/Chapter 23

BOBBY TAIL
Mr. John Rabbit had been a great jumper in his youth, and Little Jack Rabbit wished to learn to jump as far as his father, and even farther.
So every day he practiced jumping in the Sweet Clover Field near the Old Rail Fence until by and by he could jump over the second rail.
"Pretty good," said Mr. Rabbit. "Don't believe I did any better when I was your age. How is Bobby Tail getting along?"
Now Little Jack Rabbit's brother was called Bobby Tail, because his tail was so short. Yes, siree, it was so short that it ​looked exactly like a white powder puff. And his eyes were just like little pink beads. But they weren't any pinker than his nose.
But, I'm sorry to say, there was something wrong with Bobby Tail. He was too lazy for anything. That was what was the matter with him. He didn't want to learn to jump—he'd rather spend his time eating clover tops. By and by he grew to be dreadfully fat.
And a fat bunny can't run fast nor jump far. Bobby Tail found this to be true when one day Sic'em, the Farmer's Dog, chased him across the Sunny Meadow.
The Bunny Brothers had hopped down to the old Duck Pond to see Granddaddy Bullfrog, when all of a sudden Sic'em saw them. Goodness me! What a chase he gave them! Over the Sunny Meadow, through ​the Shady Forest, and along the Old Rail Fence! At first Bobby Tail was able to keep up with brother, but after a while he fell behind.
"Hurry up!" shouted Little Jack Rabbit. But, Oh dear me! Bobby Tail was so fat and so short of breath that he couldn't. Closer and closer came Sic'em till the little bunny could almost feel his hot breath.
"If I ever get back to the Old Bramble Patch," he thought, "I'll practice running and jumping every day in the week."
Just then, he reached the Old Rail Fence. Another jump landed him in the dear Old Bramble Patch, leaving Sic'em barking and growling outside the prickly bushes.
"You've had a narrow escape," said Mr. Rabbit, looking up over his evening paper, "I hope it will teach you a lesson!"
​And it did. The very next day Bobby Tail practiced jumping with Little Jack Rabbit, and kept it up until he became almost as good a jumper as his brother.
But Old Sic'em never knew how this came to pass. He was too busy keeping watch over the Old Farmyard to bother his head about Bobby Tail, for Danny Fox, who was always prowling around, hunting for a stray chicken, kept the old dog forever on the lookout.
# Little Jack Rabbit's Adventures/Chapter 25

TURKEY TIM
Turkey Tim in his turban-colored comb strutted about the Old Farmyard, spreading his tail like a Japanese fan to the bright light that Mr. Merry Sun sent down from the Big Blue Sky.
"I wonder what makes Turkey Tim so proud?" asked Henny Penny.
Little Jack Rabbit wiggled his pink nose, but said nothing.
"Is it because the Kind Farmer is buying chestnuts for him from Chippy Chipmunk?"
Still the little rabbit made no reply.
"Please tell me," begged Henny Penny. "You can whisper in my ear."
​"Turkey Tim thinks the Kind Farmer is fond of him, but that's not the reason," answered the little rabbit.
"What is the reason?" asked Henny Penny, who you see by this time was a very curious little hen.
"Turkey Tim wouldn't believe me if told him," said the little rabbit.
"Wouldn't he?" exclaimed the little hen, her feathers ruffled with excitement and curiosity.
"It's a big secret," whispered the little bunny.
"Tell me quick," coaxed Henny Penny.
"Thanksgiving!" whispered Little Jack Rabbit. "Haven't you heard of chestnut-fed turkeys for Thanksgiving?"
"Do you mean they are going to kill Turkey Tim?" cried the little hen.
​"I certainly do," answered the little rabbit. "But he's so proud he wouldn't believe me. Why, he thinks he's more wonderful than Cocky Doodle."
"Well, he isn't," said Henny Penny. "Cocky Doodle's the most wonderful of all the Feathered Folk, for he's the one who wakes up Mr. Merry Sun. Cocky Doodle is the cock-a-doodle-do clock of the whole wide world. Why, if it weren't for him Mr. Merry Sun might stay in bed all day."
Just then along came Turkey Tim, but he didn't look so proud when the little hen told him about Thanksgiving.
"Who told you?" he asked in a trembling voice.
"Little Jack Rabbit," answered Henny Penny, pointing to the truthful little bunny.
​"I guess I'll make a visit in the Friendly Forest," said Turkey Tim in a low voice, and off he went as fast as his legs would take him.
But, Oh dear me! No sooner was he there than Billy Breeze began to sing:
# Little Jack Rabbit's Adventures/Chapter 27

THE SNOWBALL
Billy Breeze had kicked up an awful racket all night around the Old Briar Patch, but Little Jack Rabbit hadn't heard him. No, sir. The little bunny had been too sound asleep to hear anything, but when he looked out in the morning, goodness me! how he shivered.
The ground was all covered with a white mantle, but he didn't know it was snow. This was the first snow he had ever seen. It made everything look strange, and the ground was as smooth as Mrs. Rabbit's best linen tablecloth.
Pretty soon he hopped down to the Bub​bling Brook, but it, too, had changed. It was smooth, like glass. So the little rabbit leaned over the bank to listen, but just then Billy Breeze made a dreadful racket and whirled the snow about in great clouds. But the little rabbit didn't care; he just kept on listening, and by and by he heard the Bubbling Brook singing softly:
"Dear me," said the little rabbit to himself, "I never would know that this was the Old Duck Pond if it weren't for the Old ​Mill yonder. No wonder Granddaddy Bullfrog hid himself deep down in the mud before all this happened."
Yes, the whole earth seemed quiet and still. The mill wheel moved no more; great icicles hung from the paddles and long snowdrifts lay piled against the dam.
I don't know how long the little rabbit would have stood there wondering at the sudden change if something hadn't happened. Whiz! went a snowball past his ear. The Farmer's Boy leaned over and picked up some more snow. But the little rabbit didn't wait to see what sort of a snowball he would make this time. No, siree. He hopped back to the dear Old Bramble Patch as fast as he could.
# Little Jack Rabbit's Adventures/Chapter 29

DAILY DUTIES
"Oh, dear!" sighed Little Jack Rabbit one lovely spring morning, "I'm so tired of polishing this doorknob every day and every day. I wish it would drop off."
"Goodness me, little rabbit," said Grandmother Magpie, who just then happened along, "you are a disagreeable bunny boy ​this morning." And the old lady magpie looked at him out of her little black eyes as much as to say: "I wish I had that bunny boy to bring up, I'd make him toe the mark."
And perhaps she would, and perhaps she wouldn't, for some people can bring up other people's children ever so much better than their own, or even themselves. Isn't that strange? Well, maybe it is and maybe it isn't.
"What are you saying to my little bunny boy?" asked Mrs. John Rabbit, putting her head out of the kitchen window and scowling at Grandmother Magpie.
"Oh, nothing much," said that meddlesome old lady bird.
"Well, you'd better not," said Mrs. Rabbit. "It's all you can do to gossip about ​grown-up people's affairs." And then Mrs. Rabbit shook her dusting rag up and down, and maybe once sideways, and after that she shut the window. So Grandmother Magpie flew away without another word.
"I'm glad she's gone," said the little rabbit to himself, and just then Bobbie Redvest began to sing:
And after that he picked up a crumb and said:
"Good morning, little rabbit. Don't forget to feed the canary."
"Gracious me!" exclaimed the little bunny, "I almost forgot!" And wouldn't ​it have been dreadful if he had, for little Miss Canary couldn't get out of her gold cage and look for worms like all the wild birds can, you know.
Well, when the little rabbit had finished his work, he hopped out to the Sunny Meadow where Mr. Merry Sun was making the buttercups grow more yellow every day, and the daisies whiter.
# Little Jack Rabbit's Adventures/Chapter 3

A NARROW ESCAPE
At first the Grown-ups in the Shady Forest and the Sunny Meadow were very sorry to have the railroad come so near, but after a while they found it didn't matter so much; for the cars passed through a "cut" so deep that the engine's smokestack hardly reached the top, and you only knew they were there by the sound.
Of course, it took Cousin Cotton Tail ever and ever so long to get used to the Old ​Bramble Patch. You see, it wasn't anything like the Old Brush Heap, with its covering of trailing vines, and she was glad when she was able to go back to her old home on the other side of the Bubbling Brook.
On this side the Sunny Meadow was just the same; so was the Shady Forest, and by and by everyone almost forgot that there had been a time when there wasn't any railroad.
At the Old Barnyard, however, things were very different, for the railroad made a turn just there and came in very close to the Big Red Barn.
Cocky Doodle had all he could do to keep the Barnyard Folk out of danger. Every morning after his early cock-a-​doodle-do he read them a lesson on the dangers of crossing railroad tracks.
For a while Henny penny laid her eggs in the Henhouse. The truth was that her nest in the corner of the Old Rail Fence happened to be just at the end of the Sunny Meadow where the railroad ran through the "cut," and the noise of the cars made her nervous.
Ducky Waddles was glad that the Old Duck Pond was still safe. He had heard how it had just escaped being bridged over for the noisy cars.
Yes, everyone kept away from the railroad except Goosey Lucy. And why Goosey Lucy liked to waddle down the steep bank and along the hard wooden logs of the roadbed no one could find out.
​But one fine day Goosey Lucy got caught. Yes, sir. Before she could get off the track the train came along. It was very narrow between the two steep banks, and she couldn't fly high enough to reach the top. Cocky Doodle and Henny Penny shut their eyes. They couldn't bear to see what was going to happen.
But Goosey Lucy wasn't such a goose, after all. She sat perfectly still between the rails, and when the train had passed over her, she got up, shook the cinders off her white feathers and waddled back to the Old Barnyard!
# Les Misérables/Volume 3/Book Second

Chapters:
* Chapter 1: Ninety Years and Thirty-two Teeth
* Chapter 2: Like Master, Like House
* Chapter 3: Luc-Esprit
* Chapter 4: A Centenarian Aspirant
* Chapter 5: Basque and Nicolette
* Chapter 6: In which Magnon and her Two Children are seen
* Chapter 7: Rule: Receive No One except in the Evening
* Chapter 8: Two do not make a Pair
# Les Misérables/Volume 3/Book Second/Chapter 2

He lived in the Marais, Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, No. 6. He owned the house. This house has since been demolished and rebuilt, and the number has probably been changed in those revolutions of numeration which the streets of Paris undergo. He occupied an ancient and vast apartment on the first floor, between street and gardens, furnished to the very ceilings with great Gobelins and Beauvais tapestries representing pastoral scenes; the subjects of the ceilings and the panels were repeated in miniature on the arm-chairs. He enveloped his bed in a vast, nine-leaved screen of Coromandel lacquer. Long, full curtains hung from the windows, and formed great, broken folds that were very magnificent. The garden situated immediately under his windows was attached to that one of them which formed the angle, by means of a staircase twelve or fifteen steps long, which the old gentleman ascended and descended with great agility. In addition to a library adjoining his chamber, he had a boudoir of which he thought a great deal, a gallant and elegant retreat, with magnificent hangings of straw, with a pattern of flowers and fleurs-de-lys made on the galleys of Louis XIV. and ordered of his convicts by M. de Vivonne for his mistress. M. Gillenormand had inherited it from a grim maternal great-aunt, who had died a centenarian. He had had two wives. His manners were something between those of the courtier, which he had never been, and the lawyer, which he might have been. He was gay, and caressing when he had a mind. In his youth he had been one of those men who are always deceived by their wives and never by their mistresses, because they are, at the same time, the most sullen of husbands and the most charming of lovers in existence. He was a connoisseur of painting. He had in his chamber a marvellous portrait of no one knows whom, painted by Jordaens, executed with great dashes of the brush, with millions of details, in a confused and hap-hazard manner. M. Gillenormand's attire was not the habit of Louis XIV. nor yet that of Louis XVI.; it was that of the Incroyables of the Directory. He had thought himself young up to that period and had followed the fashions. His coat was of light-weight cloth with voluminous revers, a long swallow-tail and large steel buttons. With this he wore knee-breeches and buckle shoes. He always thrust his hands into his fobs. He said authoritatively: "The French Revolution is a heap of blackguards."
# Les Misérables/Volume 3/Book Second/Chapter 3

At the age of sixteen, one evening at the opera, he had had the honor to be stared at through opera-glasses by two beauties at the same time--ripe and celebrated beauties then, and sung by Voltaire, the Camargo and the Salle. Caught between two fires, he had beaten a heroic retreat towards a little dancer, a young girl named Nahenry, who was sixteen like himself, obscure as a cat, and with whom he was in love. He abounded in memories. He was accustomed to exclaim: "How pretty she was--that Guimard-Guimardini-Guimardinette, the last time I saw her at Longchamps, her hair curled in sustained sentiments, with her come-and-see of turquoises, her gown of the color of persons newly arrived, and her little agitation muff!" He had worn in his young manhood a waistcoat of Nain-Londrin, which he was fond of talking about effusively. "I was dressed like a Turk of the Levant Levantin," said he. Madame de Boufflers, having seen him by chance when he was twenty, had described him as "a charming fool." He was horrified by all the names which he saw in politics and in power, regarding them as vulgar and bourgeois. He read the journals, the newspapers, the gazettes as he said, stifling outbursts of laughter the while. "Oh!" he said, "what people these are! Corbiere! Humann! Casimir Perier! There's a minister for you! I can imagine this in a journal: `M. Gillenorman, minister!' that would be a farce. Well! They are so stupid that it would pass"; he merrily called everything by its name, whether decent or indecent, and did not restrain himself in the least before ladies. He uttered coarse speeches, obscenities, and filth with a certain tranquillity and lack of astonishment which was elegant. It was in keeping with the unceremoniousness of his century. It is to be noted that the age of periphrase in verse was the age of crudities in prose. His god-father had predicted that he would turn out a man of genius, and had bestowed on him these two significant names: Luc-Esprit.
# Les Misérables/Volume 3/Book Second/Chapter 4

He had taken prizes in his boyhood at the College of Moulins, where he was born, and he had been crowned by the hand of the Duc de Nivernais, whom he called the Duc de Nevers. Neither the Convention, nor the death of Louis XVI., nor the Napoleon, nor the return of the Bourbons, nor anything else had been able to efface the memory of this crowning. The Duc de Nevers was, in his eyes, the great figure of the century. "What a charming grand seigneur," he said, "and what a fine air he had with his blue ribbon!"
In the eyes of M. Gillenormand, Catherine the Second had made reparation for the crime of the partition of Poland by purchasing, for three thousand roubles, the secret of the elixir of gold, from Bestucheff. He grew animated on this subject: "The elixir of gold," he exclaimed, "the yellow dye of Bestucheff, General Lamotte's drops, in the eighteenth century,--this was the great remedy for the catastrophes of love, the panacea against Venus, at one louis the half-ounce phial. Louis XV. sent two hundred phials of it to the Pope." He would have been greatly irritated and thrown off his balance, had any one told him that the elixir of gold is nothing but the perchloride of iron. M. Gillenormand adored the Bourbons, and had a horror of 1789; he was forever narrating in what manner he had saved himself during the Terror, and how he had been obliged to display a vast deal of gayety and cleverness in order to escape having his head cut off. If any young man ventured to pronounce an eulogium on the Republic in his presence, he turned purple and grew so angry that he was on the point of swooning. He sometimes alluded to his ninety years, and said, "I hope that I shall not see ninety-three twice." On these occasions, he hinted to people that he meant to live to be a hundred.
# Les Misérables/Volume 3/Book Second/Chapter 5

He had theories. Here is one of them: "When a man is passionately fond of women, and when he has himself a wife for whom he cares but little, who is homely, cross, legitimate, with plenty of rights, perched on the code, and jealous at need, there is but one way of extricating himself from the quandry and of procuring peace, and that is to let his wife control the purse-strings. This abdication sets him free. Then his wife busies herself, grows passionately fond of handling coin, gets her fingers covered with verdigris in the process, undertakes the education of half-share tenants and the training of farmers, convokes lawyers, presides over notaries, harangues scriveners, visits limbs of the law, follows lawsuits, draws up leases, dictates contracts, feels herself the sovereign, sells, buys, regulates, promises and compromises, binds fast and annuls, yields, concedes and retrocedes, arranges, disarranges, hoards, lavishes; she commits follies, a supreme and personal delight, and that consoles her. While her husband disdains her, she has the satisfaction of ruining her husband." This theory M. Gillenormand had himself applied, and it had become his history. His wife--the second one--had administered his fortune in such a manner that, one fine day, when M. Gillenormand found himself a widower, there remained to him just sufficient to live on, by sinking nearly the whole of it in an annuity of fifteen thousand francs, three-quarters of which would expire with him. He had not hesitated on this point, not being anxious to leave a property behind him. Besides, he had noticed that patrimonies are subject to adventures, and, for instance, become national property; he had been present at the avatars of consolidated three per cents, and he had no great faith in the Great Book of the Public Debt. "All that's the Rue Quincampois!" he said. His house in the Rue Filles-du-Clavaire belonged to him, as we have already stated. He had two servants, "a male and a female." When a servant entered his establishment, M. Gillenormand re-baptized him. He bestowed on the men the name of their province: Nimois, Comtois, Poitevin, Picard. His last valet was a big, foundered, short-winded fellow of fifty-five, who was incapable of running twenty paces; but, as he had been born at Bayonne, M. Gillenormand called him Basque. All the female servants in his house were called Nicolette (even the Magnon, of whom we shall hear more farther on). One day, a haughty cook, a cordon bleu, of the lofty race of porters, presented herself. "How much wages do you want a month?" asked M. Gillenormand. "Thirty francs." "What is your name?" "Olympie." "You shall have fifty francs, and you shall be called Nicolette."
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# Literary Research Guide/The Research Process/Manuscript Step 1

* Step 1
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Step 1: Consult guides to archives and collections.
* Archive Finder (F280)
* Foster and Sheppard, British Archives (F283)
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* Guide to the National Archives of the United States (F290)
* Guides to Archives and Manuscript Collections in the United States (F293)
* Innes, Twentieth-Century British and American Theatre (M2860)
* Women’s History Sources (Q3245)
* Trove (R4462)
* Fraser, Children’s Authors and Illustrators (U5465)
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# Literary Research Guide/The Research Process/Manuscript Step 2

* Step 1
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Step 2: Search union catalogs.
* WorldCat (E225)
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* Archives Canada (R4590)
* Directory of Canadian Theatre Archives (R4722)
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* Step 1
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