OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Perrin v. United States (79 U.S. 315)/Opinion of the Court

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
United States Supreme Court
79 U.S. 315
Perrin v. United States
The petitioners alleged in the court below that they were naturalized citizens of the United States; that just before the 13th of July, 1854, they arrived at San Juan del Norte, or Greytown, possessed of a valuable invoice of merchandise, with the intention of establishing a commercial house in some part of Central America; that on that day the town of San Juan was bombarded and burnt by the United States sloop-of-war Cyane, and all the merchandise, books, and papers of the petitioners, together with their personal effects. Appearance was entered by the Assistant Attorney-General, and he demurred to the petition because it did not set forth facts sufficient to constitute a cause of action, and the court below sustained the demurrer and dismissed the petition. Whereupon the petitioners appealed to this court, and alleged that the decision sustaining the demurrer was erroneous, but the court here, inasmuch as the claim is not one 'founded upon any law of Congress, or upon any regulation of an executive department, or upon any contract, express or implied, with the government of the United States,' concurs in opinion with the Court of Claims and
AFFIRMS THE DECREE DISMISSING THE PETITION.

## 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
# Perrin v. United States (171 U.S. 292)/Opinion of the Court

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
United States Supreme Court
171 U.S. 292
Perrin v. United States
So far as the question of title is concerned, this case is similar to the one immediately perceding. Camou v. U.S., 18 Sup. Ct. 855. For reasons therein stated, the decree of the court of private land claims will be reversed, and the case remanded for further proceedings. It is true, as suggested in its opinion, the court of private land claims thought that there was no sufficient location of the tract in controversy, and that probably the grant was void for uncertainty in the description of the property. It may be that this conclusion was right. At the same time, in view of what has been recently said by this court in respect to boundaries, description, and area, we think that justice requires that we reverse the judgment, and remand the case for further proceedings. Perhaps the claimants may be able to satisfactorily identify a tract not larger than the area purchased and paid for which should equitably be recognized as the tract granted.

## 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
# Perrin v. United States (232 U.S. 478)

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
232 U.S. 478
Perrin v. United States (232 U.S. 478)
Argued: January 13, 1914. --- Decided: February 24, 1914
Messrs. Charles H. Bartelt and Edwin R. Winans for plaintiff in error.
Assistant Attorney General Wallace for defendant in error.
[Argument of Counsel from page 479 intentionally omitted]
Mr. Justice Van Devanter 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
# Perrin v. United States (79 U.S. 315)

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
79 U.S. 315
Perrin v. United States
APPEAL from the Court of Claims dismissing a petition before it, as not 'founded upon any law of Congress, or upon any regulation of an executive department, or upon any contract, express or implied, with the government of the United States;' confessedly the only cases, in which the court, by the statutes creating it, has jurisdiction.
Mr. W. W. Boice, for the appellants; Mr. Akerman, Attorney-General, and Mr. C. H. Hill, contra.
Mr. Justice CLIFFORD stated the case and delivered the judgment of this 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
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/The Nun's Aspiration

THE NUN'S ASPIRATION
The yesterday doth never smile, The day goes drudging through the while, Yet, in the name of Godhead, I The morrow front, and can defy; Though I am weak, yet God, when prayed, Cannot withhold his conquering aid. Ah me! it was my childhood's thought, If He should make my web a blot On life's fair picture of delight, My heart's content would find it right. But O, these waves and leaves,— When happy stoic Nature grieves, No human speech so beautiful As their murmurs mine to lull. On this altar God hath built I lay my vanity and guilt; Nor me can Hope or Passion urge Hearing as now the lofty dirge Which blasts of Northern mountains hymn, Nature's funeral high and dim,— Sable pageantry of clouds, Mourning summer laid in shrouds. Many a day shall dawn and die, Many an angel wander by, ​And passing, light my sunken turf Moist perhaps by ocean surf, Forgotten amid splendid tombs, Yet wreathed and hid by summer blooms. On earth I dream;—I die to be: Time, shake not thy bald head at me. I challenge thee to hurry past Or for my turn to fly too fast. Think me not numbed or halt with age, Or cares that earth to earth engage, Caught with love's cord of twisted beams, Or mired by climate's gross extremes. I tire of shams, I rush to be: I pass with yonder comet free,— Pass with the comet into space Which mocks thy æons to embrace; Æons which tardily unfold Realm beyond realm,—extent untold; No early morn, no evening late,— Realms self-upheld, disdaining Fate, Whose shining sons, too great for fame, Never heard thy weary name; Nor lives the tragic bard to say How drear the part I held in one, How lame the other limped away.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/The Humble-Bee

THE HUMBLE-BEE
Burly, dozing humble-bee, Where thou art is clime for me. Let them sail for Porto Rique, Far-off heats through seas to seek; I will follow thee alone, Thou animated torrid-zone! Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, Let me chase thy waving lines; Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, Singing over shrubs and vines.
Insect lover of the sun, Joy of thy dominion! ​Sailor of the atmosphere; Swimmer through the waves of air; Voyager of light and noon; Epicurean of June; Wait, I prithee, till I come Within earshot of thy hum,— All without is martyrdom.
When the south wind, in May days, With a net of shining haze Silvers the horizon wall, And with softness touching all, Tints the human countenance With a color of romance, And infusing subtle heats, Turns the sod to violets, Thou, in sunny solitudes, Rover of the underwoods, The green silence dost displace With thy mellow, breezy bass.
Hot midsummer's petted crone, Sweet to me thy drowsy tone Tells of countless sunny hours, Long days, and solid banks of flowers; Of gulfs of sweetness without bound In Indian wildernesses found; Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure.
​Aught unsavory or unclean Hath my insect never seen; But violets and bilberry bells, Maple-sap and daffodels, Grass with green flag half-mast high, Succory to match the sky, Columbine with horn of honey, Scented fern, and agrimony, Clover, catchfly, adder's-tongue And brier-roses, dwelt among; All beside was unknown waste, All was picture as he passed.
Wiser far than human seer, Yellow-breeched philosopher! Seeing only what is fair, Sipping only what is sweet, Thou dost mock at fate and care, Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. When the fierce northwestern blast Cools sea and land so far and fast, Thou already slumberest deep; Woe and want thou canst outsleep; Want and woe, which torture us, Thy sleep makes ridiculous.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/The Informing Spirit

THE INFORMING SPIRIT
I
There is no great and no small To the Soul that maketh all: And where it cometh, all things are; And it cometh everywhere.
II
I am owner of the sphere, Of the seven stars and the solar year, Of Cæsar's hand, and Plato's brain, Of Lord Christ's heart, and Shakspeare's strain.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/The House

THE HOUSE
There is no architect Can build as the Muse can; She is skilful to select Materials for her plan;
Slow and warily to choose Rafters of immortal pine, Or cedar incorruptible, Worthy her design,
She threads dark Alpine forests Or valleys by the sea, In many lands, with painful steps, Ere she can find a tree.
​She ransacks mines and ledges And quarries every rock, To hew the famous adamant For each eternal block—
She lays her beams in music, In music every one, To the cadence of the whirling world Which dances round the sun—
That so they shall not be displaced By lapses or by wars, But for the love of happy souls Outlive the newest stars.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/The Last Farewell

THE LAST FAREWELL
Farewell, ye lofty spires That cheered the holy light! Farewell, domestic fires That broke the gloom of night! Too soon those spires are lost, Too fast we leave the bay, Too soon by ocean tost From hearth and home away, Far away, far away.
​Farewell the busy town, The wealthy and the wise, Kind smile and honest frown From bright, familiar eyes. All these are fading now; Our brig hastes on her way, Her unremembering prow Is leaping o'er the sea, Far away, far away.
Farewell, my mother fond, Too kind, too good to me; Nor pearl nor diamond Would pay my debt to thee. But even thy kiss denies Upon my cheek to stay; The winged vessel flies, And billows round her play, Far away, far away.
Farewell, my brothers true, My betters, yet my peers; How desert without you My few and evil years! But though aye one in heart, Together sad or gay, Rude ocean doth us part; We separate to-day, Far away, far away.
​Farewell, thou fairest one, Unplighted yet to me, Uncertain of thine own I gave my heart to thee. That untold early love I leave untold to-day, My lips in whisper move Farewell to.....! Far away, far away.
Farewell I breathe again To dim New England's shore; My heart shall beat not when I pant for thee no more. In yon green palmy isle, Beneath the tropic ray, I murmur never while For thee and thine I pray; Far away, far away.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/The Miracle

THE MIRACLE
I have trod this path a hundred times With idle footsteps, crooning rhymes. I know each nest and web-worm's tent, The fox-hole which the woodchucks rent, Maple and oak, the old Divan Self-planted twice, like the banian. I know not why I came again Unless to learn it ten times ten. To read the sense the woods impart You must bring the throbbing heart. Love is aye the counterforce,— Terror and Hope and wild Remorse, Newest knowledge, fiery thought, Or Duty to grand purpose wrought. Wandering yester morn the brake, I reached this heath beside the lake, And oh, the wonder of the power, The deeper secret of the hour! Nature, the supplement of man, His hidden sense interpret can;— What friend to friend cannot convey Shall the dumb bird instructed say. Passing yonder oak, I heard Sharp accents of my woodland bird; ​I watched the singer with delight,— But mark what changed my joy to fright,— When that bird sang, I gave the theme; That wood-bird sang my last night's dream, A brown wren was the Daniel That pierced my trance its drift to tell, Knew my quarrel, how and why, Published it to lake and sky, Told every word and syllable In his flippant chirping babble, All my wrath and all my shames, Nay, God is witness, gave the names.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/The Park

THE PARK
The prosperous and beautiful To me seem not to wear The yoke of conscience masterful, Which galls me everywhere.
I cannot shake off the god; On my neck he makes his seat; I look at my face in the glass,— My eyes his eyeballs meet.
Enchanters! Enchantresses! Your gold makes you seem wise; The morning mist within your grounds More proudly rolls, more softly lies.
Yet spake yon purple mountain, Yet said yon ancient wood, That Night or Day, that Love or Crime, Leads all souls to the Good.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/The Past

THE PAST
The debt is paid, The verdict said, The Furies laid, The plague is stayed. All fortunes made; Turn the key and bolt the door, Sweet is death forevermore. Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin, Nor murdering hate, can enter in. ​All is now secure and fast; Not the gods can shake the Past; Flies-to the adamantine door Bolted down forevermore. None can reënter there,— No thief so politic, No Satan with a royal trick Steal in by window, chink, or hole, To bind or unbind, add what lacked, Insert a leaf, or forge a name, New-face or finish what is packed, Alter or mend eternal Fact.
# Outward Bound

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Outward Bound."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
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.
* "Outward Bound", a poem by Dinah Maria Craik
* "Outward Bound", a poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
* "Outward Bound", a poem by Nowell Oxland
# Poems (Hale)

POEMS,
BY
MARY W. HALE
BOSTON:
WILLIAM D. TICKNOR.
1840
press of
William A. Hall & Co.
21 Devonshire street.
DEDICATION.
To the friends, living and departed, whose kindness will forever endear the remembrance of a recent residence among them, these pages are affectionately and gratefully inscribed by their
AUTHOR.
Boston, 1840.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
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
# Pieces People Ask For/Paddy's Dream

PADDY'S DREAM.
I have often laughed at the way an Irish help we had at Barnstable once fished me for a glass of whiskey. One morning he says to me, "Oh, yer honor," says he, "I had a great drame last night intirely! I dramed I was in Rome, tho' how I got there is more than I can tell: but there I was, sure enough; and as in duty bound, what does I do but go and see the Pope. Well, it was a long journey, and it was late when I got there—too late for the likes of me; and when I got to the palace I saw priests and bishops and cardinals, and all the great dignitaries of the Church, a-coming out; and sais one of them to me, 'How are ye, Pat Moloney?' sais he; 'and that spalpeen yer father, bad luck to him! how is he?' It startled me to hear me own name so suddent, that it came mighty nigh waking me up, it did. Sais I, 'Your riverence, how in the world did ye know that Pat Moloney was me name, let alone that of me father?'—'Why, ye blackguard!' sais he, 'I knew ye since ye was knee-high to a goose, and I knew yer mother afore ye was born.'—'It's good right yer honor has then to know me,' sais I.—'Bad manners to ye!' sais he; 'what is it ye are afther doing here at this time o'night?'—'To see his Holiness, the Pope,' sais I. 'That's right,' sais he; 'pass on, but leave yer impudence with yer hat and shoes at the door.' Well, I was shown into a mighty fine room where his Holiness was, and down I went on me knees. 'Rise up, Pat Moloney,' sais his Holiness; 'ye're a broth of a boy to come all the way from Ireland to do yer duty to me; and it's dutiful children ye are, every mother's son of ye. What will ye have to drink, Pat?' (The greater a man is, the more of a rael gintleman he is, yer honor, and the more condescending.) 'What will ye have to drink, Pat?' sais he. 'A glass of whiskey, yer Holiness,' sais I, 'if it's all the same to ye.'—'Shall it be hot, or cold?' sais he. 'Hot,' sais I, 'if it's all the same, and gives ye no trouble.'—'Hot it shall be,' sais he; 'but as I have dismissed all me servants for the night, I'll just step down below for the tay-kettle;' and wid that he left the room, and was gone for a long time; and jist as he came to the door again he knocked so loud the noise woke me up, and, be jabers! I missed me whiskey entirely! Bedad, if I had only had the sense to say 'Nate, yer Holiness,' I'd a ​had me whiskey sure enough, and never known it warn't all true, instead of a drame." I knew what he wanted, so I poured him out a glass. "Won't it do as well now, Pat?" said I. "Indeed it will, yer honor," says he, "and me drame will come true, after all. I thought it would; for it was mighty nateral at the time, all but the whiskey."
Anonymous.
# Pieces People Ask For/Raking the Meadow-Lot

RAKING THE MEADOW-LOT.
A HAY-TIME IDYL.
"We'll mow," quoth old farmer Jacobs, "the new corner medder to-day—
Nell, you come an' help with the rakin'—its right ketchin' weather for hay;
Neighbor Smith's Jim, he's bin to the city, an' a new-fangled patent he's bought;
An' he's bound to come over this mornin', an' streak through that air medder-lot.
He sez—an' I tell him the kaounty ain't able to beat him for cheek—
The thing'll do more execution than me an' my boys in a week;
But he offered so kinder perlite-like (I've no faith in the gim crack—not I),
I couldn't do other than 'low him to fetch the queer critter an' try."
Pretty Nell, skimming cream in the dairy, peeped out through the vine-shaded pane,
As Jim, with "Old Roan" and "Black Billy" went clattering down through the lane;
And was it the "new-fangled mower" her shy blue eyes followed? I ween
From the blushes that deepened and flitted, it could not have been the machine.
Prone under the lengthening shadows the feathery meadow-grass lay;
The daises uncrowned in their glory, sun-smitten, slow fading away;
The cardinal flower in the ditches, rose proudly, right royally dressed,
And restlessly hither and hither moaned the bobolinks spoiled of their nest.
Fair Nellie outrivalled the daises; and so, it was plain, thought young Jim,
Or else that such dainty hay-making required much assistance from him;
And if ever the lost joy of Eden came back to this earth long forgot,
It came to these blissful young lovers, a raking the new meadow-lot.
"What's this that you ax for—my Nellie?—Wal, if I ain't beat—can it be
It wasn't my hay but my darter made you mighty obleegin' to me?
You don't desarve her, you rascal, but"—the shrewd gray eyes twinkled—"I guess—
Considerin' the help you'll be hayin'—I s'pose—I shall hev to say—yes."
Ruth Revere.
# Pieces People Ask For/Pat's Reason

PAT'S REASON.
One day, in a crowded Market-street car, A lady was standing. She had ridden quite far, And seemed much disposed to indulge in a frown, As nobody offered to let her sit down. And many there sat, who, to judge by their dress, Might a gentleman's natural instincts possess; But who, judged by their acts, make as firmly believe That appearances often will sadly deceive. There were some most intently devouring the news, And some, through the windows, enjoying the views; And others indulged in a make-believe nap, While the lady stood holding on by the strap. At last a young Irishman, fresh from the "sod," Arose with a smile and most comical nod, Which said quite as plain as in words could be stated, That the lady should sit in the place he'd vacated. "Excuse me," said Pat, "that I caused you to wait So long before offerin' to give you a sate; But in truth I was only just waitin' to see If there wasn't more gintlemin here beside me."
# Pieces People Ask For/She Stood on the Stair

SHE STOOD ON THE STAIR.
She stood at the turn of the stair,
With the rose-tinted light on her face,
And the gold of her hair gleaming out
From a mystical billow of lace.
And I waited and watched her apart, And a mist seemed to compass my sight; For last year we were nearer than friends, And to me she was nothing to-night.
And the jasmine she wore at her throat Was heavy with fragrance, and cast The sorrowful present away, And carried me back to the past.
Yes, her face is as proud and as sweet, And the flowers are the same as of old. Is her voice just as gentle and low? Is her heart just as cruel and cold?
Does she dream of one summer ago, As she stands on the rose-tinted stair? Does she think of her Newport romance, While she buttons her long mosquetaire?
And some one is singing a song, And high o'er the music it rings, And she listens and leans from the stair, For these are the words that it sings:—
"Oh, love for a month or a week, Oh, love for a year or a day; But, oh for the love that will live— That will linger forever and aye!"
There's a stillness—the music has stopped, And she turns with an indolent grace: Am I waking, or still do I dream, Or is there a tear on her face?
Then I step from the shadow apart, Till I stand by her side on the stair: One step to the flowers and light From the darkness and gloom of despair.
And I take both her hands in my own, And I look in her eyes once again,— And I shiver and tremble and shake When I think what a fool I have been.
And I stamp and I claw at the air, And rave at myself for a spell; For it isn't the girl, after all, That I met at the Newport hotel.
Puck.
# Pieces People Ask For/Somehow or Other

SOMEHOW OR OTHER.
The good wife bustled about the house,
Her face still bright with a pleasant smile,
As broken snatches of happy song
Strengthened her heart and hand the while.
The good man sat in the chimney-nook,
His little clay pipe within his lips,
And all he'd made, and all he'd lost,
Ready and clear on his finger-tips.
"Good wife, I've just been thinking a bit:
Nothing has done very well this year;
Money is bound to be hard to get;
Every thing's bound to be very dear;
How the cattle are going to be fed,
How we're to keep the boys at school,
Is kind of a debit and credit sum
I can't make balance by any rule."
She turned her round from the baking bread,
And she faced him with a cheerful laugh;
"Why, husband, dear, one would think
That the good rich wheat was only chaff.
And what if the wheat was only chaff,
As long as we both are well and strong?
I'm not a woman to worry a bit,—
Somehow or other we get along.
Into some lives some rain must fall,
Over all lands the storm must beat;
But when the rain and storm are o'er,
The after sunshine is twice as sweet.
Through every strait we have found a road,
In every grief we've found a song;
We've had to bear, and had to wait,—
But somehow or other we get along.
For thirty years we have loved each other,
Stood by each other whatever befell;
Six boys have called us father and mother,
And all of them living and doing well.
We owe no man a penny, my dear,
We're both of us loving, well, and strong:
Good man, I wish you would smoke again,
And think how well we've got along."
He filled his pipe with a pleasant laugh;
He kissed his wife with a tender pride;
He said, "I'll do as you tell me, love;
I'll just count up on the other side."
She left him then with his better thought,
And lifted her work with a low, sweet song,—
A song that followed me many a year:
"Somehow or other we get along."