OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Little Joe Otter/Chapter 31

CHAPTER XXXI
A FISH DISAPPEARS
Before you boast be sure you know That you have got the fish to show.
Little Joe Otter.
At the place where the big brook, down which Little Joe Otter and his family had traveled, enters the Big River, the latter never freezes over. Little Joe Otter knew this. You see, he had been there before more than once. He knew that there was good fishing in the Big River, and that if no trapper discovered them they would not be disturbed. No men lived near that part of ​the Big River. There was green forest on both banks. There were snug, dry, hiding-places, and Little Joe knew them all. They would stay until spring and then work down the Big River and so return to the Laughing Brook from which they had started.
The young Otters liked this place. They soon had a fine slippery slide on which to play when they were not sleeping or fishing. It was fun to explore under the ice along the banks of the Big River. It was fun to catch a fish and climb out on the ice to eat it. There was nothing to worry about. There were no enemies to fear. By day as well as by night they felt perfectly safe.
​One day the young Otter who had lost his toe caught an extra big fish. It was the biggest fish he ever had caught. He was very proud of it as he climbed out on the ice. Now he had caught that fish more for the fun of catching it than because he was hungry. The fact is, he wasn't hungry. Fish were plentiful, and he had already eaten about all he could. So he merely took a couple of bites from what he considered the best part—just back of the head. Then he saw his sister over on the slippery slide and went over to join her, leaving the big fish on the ice. He wanted to tell her about that big fish. He wanted to boast a little. ​He was sure that it was a bigger fish than she ever had caught. So when he got over to the slippery slide he at once began to boast. His sister stood it as long as she could. Then she declared that she didn't believe he had such a wonderful fish.
"Come on over and I'll show it to you," said the young Otter. "It's twice as big as any fish you've ever caught."
"I don't believe it," declared his sister. "I'll have to see it before I'll believe it."
"All right, come on!" cried her brother, and down the slippery slide he glided into the water. Flat on her stomach behind him went his sister. Together they ​climbed out on the ice where the big fish had been left.
"Here it—" began the young Otter, and stopped abruptly.
"Well, where is it?" demanded his sister.
Her brother simply stared all about him with a foolish look on his face. There was no fish there! What could have become of it? He knew that he had killed it and so it couldn't possibly have flopped back into the water. He ran all around with his nose to the ice, but there was no scent of Reddy Fox or of any one else.
“I don't believe you caught a big fish," declared his sister. "You must have dreamed it. If you caught it, where is it?"
# Little Joe Otter/Chapter 33

CHAPTER XXXIII
ANOTHER FISH DISAPPEARS
In things at once not understood Some people will admit no good.
Little Joe Otter.
So many things happen every day to the little people of the Green Forest and the Green Meadows that they do not think of any one thing very long. Two days after the mysterious disappearance of his big fish the young Otter had stopped thinking about it. He had made up his mind that he never would know what became of that fish and that the matter was no longer worth ​puzzling over. There were too many other things to think about and do.
On the third day he caught another fine fish and climbed out on the ice with it near the place where he had left the other. This fish wasn't so big as the one that had disappeared, but it was a fine fish for all that. The young Otter was hungry and he intended to eat that fish right there. But he had taken only a bite or two when his sharp eyes saw another fish in the water. Two fish would be better than one. He dropped on the ice the fish he was eating, plunged into the water and like a brown streak shot after the other fish.
​Swift as a fish is in water, there isn't much chance for it when once an Otter gets after it. The young Otter had quite a chase, but in the end he caught the fish. Then with it in his mouth he swam back and climbed out on the ice at the place where he had left the first fish. He was feeling very well satisfied. With two fish he would have all he could possibly eat, and more too.
"First I'll eat the one that I caught first," said the young Otter, as he dropped on the ice the one he had just caught. Then he received a shock. That other fish wasn't there! There was only one fish and that was the one he had just caught. He couldn't believe it. No, Sir, he couldn't believe it. He ​actually rubbed his eyes two or three times, to make sure that nothing was the matter with them. But nothing was the matter; that other fish wasn't there.
The young Otter hastily looked in every direction. No one was in sight. At least he didn't see any one. All he saw was what he took to be a little heap of snow a short distance away. He looked in the water. He thought he might have knocked that fish into the water when he dived after the other one. But he looked in vain.
Of course, right away he remembered the disappearance of the big fish a few days before. Now another had disappeared just as mysteriously. It was ​unbelievable, but it was true. The young Otter became frightened.
"This is no place for me," said he. "No, Sir, this is no place for me. The first thing I know, this fish will disappear right out of my mouth. I wouldn't mind losing the fish so much if I could only know what becomes of them."
He looked hastily down to see if the fish he had just caught was still at his feet. It was, and with a little sigh of relief he picked it up and with it in his mouth plunged into the water and swam hurriedly over to the bank. There he gulped that fish down as fast as ever he could. He did it as if he feared that it might disappear before he could get it eaten.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 151/Issue 1948/The Wind on the Hill

Originally published in Argosy.
O sweet is the summer air  Which steals down the chestnut walk, When the children are playing there,  While lovers wander and talk.  But the wind on the hill for me,  And the mist across the down,  And the bright light over the sea,  And ships coming home to the town!
O merry the sunny strand,  Where waves wash in at one's feet, And the wives and the children stand  And wait for the fishing fleet.  But the wind on the hill for me,  And the mist across the down,  And the strong light over the sea,  And ships coming home to the town!
O stately the castle tower,  'Mid its cedars, dark and still, Where ghosts come back at midnight hour,  And the midday sun falls chill.  But the wind on the hill for me,  And the mist across the down,  And the wild light over the sea,  And ships coming home to the town!
And solemn the gray church spire  (I see it, looking down!) With its weather-vane tipped with fire,  As the sun sets over the town.  But the wind on the hill for me,  And the mist across the down,  And the golden light on the sea,  And ships going out from the town!
There's a grave by the old church door  (That changed all the world one day). Can it be the mist from the moor  Creeps up as I look that way?  But the wind on the hill for me,  And the mist across the down,  Though the light is sad on the sea,  And the ships go out from the town!
I should like to die on the hill,  Some day as the sun goes down, And the wind, blowing strong and chill,  Drives out the ships from the town!  Yes! the wind on the hill for me,  And the mists may lie below:  There's a glad light over the sea,  And a secret for me to know!
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 151/Issue 1949/The Round of Life

Originally published in Chambers' Journal.
Two children down by the shining strand,  With eyes as blue as the summer sea, While the sinking sun fills all the land  With the glow of a golden mystery: Laughing aloud at the sea-mew's cry,  Gazing with joy on its snowy breast, Till the first star looks from the evening sky,  And the amber bars stretch over the west.
A soft green dell by the breezy shore,  A sailor lad and a maiden fair; Hand clasped in hand, while the tale of yore  Is borne again on the listening air. For love is young, though love be old,  And love alone the heart can fill; And the dear old tale that has been told  In the days gone by, is spoken still.
A trim-built home on a sheltered bay;  A wife looking out on the glistening sea; A prayer for the loved one far away,  And prattling imps 'neath the old roof-tree; A lifted latch and a radiant face  By the open door in the falling night; A welcome home and a warm embrace  From the love of his youth and his children bright.
An aged man in an old armchair;  A golden light from the western sky; His wife by his side, with her silvered hair,  And the open book of God close by. Sweet on the bay the gloaming falls,  And bright is the glow of the evening star; But dearer to them are the jasper walls  And the golden streets of the land afar.
An old churchyard on a green hillside,  Two lying still in their peaceful rest; The fishermen's boats going out with the tide  In the fiery glow of the amber west. Children's laughter and old men's sighs,  The night that follows the morning clear, A rainbow bridging our darkened skies,  Are the round of our lives from year to year!
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 151/Issue 1952/"The Irresponsive Land"

The irresponsive silence of the land,  The irresponsive soundings of the sea,  Speak both one message of one sense to me: — Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof: so stand Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band  Of inner solitude; we bind, not thee;  But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free? What heart shall teach thy heart? what hand thy hand? — And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek,  And sometimes I remember days of old, When fellowship seemed not so far to seek,  And all the world and I seemed much less cold,  And at the rainbow's foot lay surely gold, And hope felt strong, and life itself not weak.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 151/Issue 1948/Pride of Youth

Originally published in Athanæum.
Even as a child, of sorrow that we give  The dead, but little in his heart can find,  Since without need of thought to his clear mind Their turn it is to die and his to live: Even so the winged New Love smiles to receive  Along his eddying plumes the auroral wind,  Nor, forward glorying, casts one look behind Where night-wrack shrouds the Old Love fugitive.
There is a change in every hour's recall  And the last cowslip in the fields we see  On the same day with the first corn-poppy. Alas for hourly change! Alas for all The loves that from his hand proud Youth lets fall,  Even as the beads of a told rosary!
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 151/Issue 1949/England to America

Originally published in Punch.
* JAMES ABRAM GARFIELD. BORN, NOVEMBER 19, 1831. DIED, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, SEPTEMBER 19, 1881.
Silence were best, if hand in hand,  Like friends, sea-sundered peoples met; But words must wing from land to land  The utterance of the heart's regret, Though harsh on ears that Sorrow thralls E'en Sympathy's low accent falls.'
Salt leagues that part us check no whit  What knows not bounds of time or space, The homestead feeling that must knit  World-scattered kin in speech and race. None like ourselves may well bemoan Columbia's sorrow; 'tis our own.
A sorrow of the nobler sort,  Which love and pride make pure and fair; A grief that is not misery's sport,  A pain that bows not to despair; Beginning not in courtly woe, To end in pageantry and show.
The great republic's foremost son,  Struck foully, falls; but they who mourn Brave life cut short, good work half done,  Yet trust that from beyond death's bourne That blameless memory's gifts may be Peace, concord, civic purity.
Scarce known of us till struck for death,  He stirred us by his valiant fight With mortal pain. With bated breath,  We waited tidings morn and night. The hope that's nursed by strong desire, Though shaken often, will not tire.
And now our sables type, in truth,  A more than ceremonial pain. We send, court, cottage, age, and youth,  From open hearts, across the main, Our sympathy — it never swerved — To wife he loved, to land he served!
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 151/Issue 1949/Passing and Glassing

All things that pass  Are woman's looking-glass; They show her how her bloom must fade, And she herself be laid With withered roses in the shade;  With withered roses and the fallen peach,  Unlovely, out of reach  Of summer joy that was.
 All things that pass  Are woman's tiring-glass; The faded lavender is sweet, Sweet the dead violet, Culled and laid by and cared for yet;  The dried-up violets and dried lavender  Still sweet, may comfort her,  Nor need she cry, Alas!
 All things that pass  Are wisdom's looking-glass; Being full of hope and fear, and still Brimful of good or ill, According to our work and will;  For there is nothing new beneath the sun,  Our doings have been done,  And that which shall be was.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 151/Issue 1949/The People's Rights in Japan

Translated from the Osaka Nippon.
The People’s Rights in Japan — The Western proverb says, “Heaven helps him who helps himself,” which is very true, so self-help is the way by which one can secure almost anything. A man cannot get a cupful of food in idleness, nor can he obtain the knowledge of a letter in sluggishness. When this is true even in these small matters, how much more does it hold good when we desire to attain and secure immense riches, or everlasting fame? If a man possesses industry and courage, it is not impossible for him to accumulate great wealth, as in the case of To (an ancient Chinese who attained great riches), nor is it difficult to secure everlasting fame, as in the case of the Saint (Confucius) and the sages of antiquity. Then, advance brethren, and secure them! Why do you not dare the issue? We must first seek and secure a means by which the riches or the fame, when once acquired, can be safely preserved; thus securing the fruits of perseverance and courage. What would be the means? They are the rights of the people which, if permanently obtained, riches once acquired will not be lost by injustice, nor will fame once obtained be tarnished by wrong. In fine, all things will be perfectly secured to those who procure them by labor and courage. A nation can only fully appreciate industry and valor when in possession of the inherent rights of the people. Therefore Europeans and Americans labored to secure these rights, even by sacrificing their lives and properties, because their liberty was dearer to them than life, and more precious than property. What a man covets eagerly is often clutched tenaciously by the possessor. This fact must be well considered. The fruitlessness of violent measures to obtain the rights of the people is fully illustrated in the histories of foreign countries; among which England and France are the most conspicuous. Our earnest advocates of the people’s rights will do well to consider what would be gained and what lost from the histories of those two nations, and consider the measures which they may resort to under varied circumstances. Deep meditation, calm patience, and determined courage, will all contribute towards the final acquisition of our rights. Go on, go on, and try to secure them! Yet, let our leaders take for their mirror the bright examples mentioned in the English and French histories, which are not only useful to us, but to all in similar circumstances.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 151/Issue 1952/Looking Back

Originally published in Spectator.
Fair were the dreamful days of old,  When, in the sleepy summer shade, Beneath the beeches on the wold,  The shepherds lay, and gently played Music to maidens, who, afraid,  Drew all together rapturously, Their white soft hands like white leaves laid,  In the old, dear days in Arcady.
Men were not then as they are now,  Haunted and terrified by creeds; They sought not then unceasingly to know  The end, that as a magnet leads; Nor told with austere fingers beads,  Nor reasoned with their grief and glee; But rioted in pleasant meads,  In the old, dear days in Arcady.
The future may be wrong or right, —  The present is distinctly wrong; For life and love have lost delight,  And bitter even is our song. And year by year, grey doubt grows strong,  And Death is all that seems to dree; Wherefore, with weary hearts we long  For the old, dear days in Arcady.
 Envoi. Glories and triumphs ne'er will cease,  But men may sound the heavens and sea; One thing is lost for aye, — the peace  Of the old, dear days in Arcady.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 151/Issue 1948/Ibex Attacking Man

Originally published in Land and Water.
Ibex Attacking Man — I send you an account of an attack by an ibex on a gentleman, which is so opposed to the generally shy habits of the animal that I think it will be interesting to the readers of your paper. A gentleman from Schaffhausen, who had been visiting his wife and child, started to go over the Strelapass to Chur, and was accompanied for a part of the way by his wife and child. Between the Schatzalp and the Strelapass a large ibex suddenly joined the party and went with them some distance to the top of the pass. At last it became bold and came within one or two paces of them. The gentleman attempted to make friends with it by offering it a piece of bread on the point of his stick. The ibex, however, took this for a challenge, reared on its hind legs and attacked its opponent so violently with its horns that he was thrown to the ground. After a long struggle the animal took to flight, but on the gentleman throwing stones after it it turned again. The wife ran as fast as possible to the Schatzalp for help, but meanwhile the battle recommenced, and lasted, with short intervals, for more than an hour. At last a shepherd came to the assistance of the wearied gentleman, who was also slightly injured, and giving the ibex some blows with his knife, put it finally to flight. Shortly afterwards several persons from Davos Platz, whom a message from the Schatzalp had called to help, came up and tried to catch the ibex. They succeeded in frightening it on to a rock, from which, as they supposed, it would not be able to descend. The next day they again attempted the capture. The ibex was quietly grazing on the slopes near the pass, but all efforts to secure it were in vain. Now small and large parties go to the Strelapass every day to see the ibex. Sometimes they have the pleasure of coming rather near to it, but no one seems quite to like the look of it, nor would any one care to meet it alone. We shall have to petition some sportsman to come and shoot it, as it is certainly master of the situation at present. No doubt it has lost its mate, and is at war with the rest of the world.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 151/Issue 1948/Sunset on the Lomonds

Originally published in Blackwood's Magazine.
See where into the sunset far  The terraced mountains rise, The cresset of a single star  Just o'er them in the skies!  Oh that to me a dove's meek eyes  And snowy wings were given  To reach yon hills, and realize  The calm they have from heaven!  My soul is o'er the vale of Leven  (Though here in streets I stray)  Till fades the holy golden even:  The wish, too, dies away!  Alas for earth! that all it may,  Is but a mood in me;  And that, when heaven withdraws its ray,  The mood should cease to be!
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
# Little v. Giles

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
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United States Supreme Court
118 U.S. 596
Little v. Giles
Nathan S. Harwood, John H. Ames, Turner M. Marquette, and Walter J. Lamb, for appellants.
J. M. Woolworth, for appellees.
BRADLEY, J.

## 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
# Little fly

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
From Notebook, p. 101, reversed. First draft of the poem The Fly (Blake) in Songs of Experience
 [Woe, alas! my guilty hand
 Brush'd across thy summer joy;  All thy gilded, painted pride  Shatter'd fled... del.]
1 Little Fly,
 Thy summer’s play
 My [guilty hand del.] thoughtless hand
 Has brush'd away.
 [The cut worm
 Forgives the plow,
 And dies in piece,  And so do thou del.]
2 Am not I  A fly like thee?  Or art not thou  A man like me?
3 For I dance,  And drink & sing,  Till some blind hand  Shall brush my wing.
5 Then am I  A happy fly,  If I live,  Or if I die.
[4 Thought is life  And strength & breath;
 And the want (of del.)
 Of Thought is death; del.]
4 If thought is life
 And strength & breath
 And the want [of del.]
 Of Thought is death;
________________________________________
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
# Little tree

First published in Seven Poems in 1920, in The Dial magazine.
little tree little silent Christmas tree you are so little you are more like a flower
who found you in the green forest and were you very sorry to come away? seei will comfort you because you smell so sweetly
i will kiss your cool bark and hug you safe and tight just as your mother would, only don't be afraid
lookthe spangles that sleep all the year in a dark box dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine, the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
put up your little arms and i'll give them all to you to hold. every finger shall have its ring and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy
then when you're quite dressed you'll stand in the window for everyone to see and how they'll stare! oh but you'll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands and looking up at our beautiful tree we'll dance and sing "Noel Noel"
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
# Laws of the Eton Field Game

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Laws of the Eton Field Game."
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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.
* Laws of the Eton Field Game (1847)
* Laws of the Eton Field Game (1857)
* Laws of the Eton Field Game (1862)
See also:
# Le Morte d'Arthur/Volume II/Book XV

Book XV
* Chapter I: How Sir Launcelot came to a chapel, where he found dead, in a white shirt, a man of religion, of an hundred winter old
* Chapter II: Of a dead man, how men would have hewn him, and it would not be, and how Sir Launcelot took the hair of the dead man
* Chapter III: Of an advision that Sir Launcelot had, and how he told it to an hermit, and desired counsel of him
* Chapter IV: How the hermit expounded to Sir Launcelot his advision, and told him that Sir Galahad was his son
* Chapter V: How Sir Launcelot jousted with many knights, and how he was taken
* Chapter VI: How Sir Launcelot told his advision to a woman, and how she expounded it to him