OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night/Volume 3/7c

THE SPARROW AND THE EAGLE
I have heard that a sparrow was once flitting over a sheep-fold, when he looked at it carefully and behold, he saw a great eagle swoop down upon a newly weaned lamb and carry it off in his claws and fly away. Thereupon the sparrow clapped his wings and said, "I will do even as this one did;" and he waxed proud in his own conceit and mimicked a greater than he. So he flew down forthright and lighted on the back of a fat ram with a thick fleece that was become matted by his lying in his dung and stale till it was like woollen felt. As soon as the sparrow pounced upon the sheep's back he flapped his wings to fly away, but his feet became tangled in the wool and, however hard he tried, he could not set himself free. While all this was doing the shepherd was looking on, having seen what happened first with the eagle and afterwards with the sparrow; so he came up to the wee birdie in a rage and seized him. Then he plucked out his wing-feathers and, tying his feet with a twine, carried him to his children and threw him to them. "What is this?" asked one of them; and he answered, "This is he that aped a greater than himself and came to grief." "Now thou, O fox, art like this and I would have thee ​ beware of aping a greater than thou, lest thou perish. This is all I have to say to thee; so fare from me in peace! When the fox despaired of the crow's friendship, he turned away, groaning for sorrow and gnashing teeth upon teeth in his disappointment; and the crow, hearing the sound of weeping and seeing his grief and profound melancholy, said to him, "O fox, what dole and dolour make thee gnash thy canines?" Answered the fox, "I gnash my canines because I find thee a greater rascal than myself;" and so saying he made off to his house and ceased not to fare until he reached his home. Quoth the Sultan, "O Shahrazad, how excellent are these thy stories, and how delightsome! Hast thou more of such edifying tales?" Answered she:—They tell this legend concerning
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night/Volume 3/8a

THE MERCHANT AND THE TWO SHARPERS
In a city called Sindah there was once a very wealthy merchant, who made ready his camel-loads and equipped himself with goods and set out with his outfit for such a city, purposing to sell it there. Now he was followed by two sharpers, who had made up into bales what merchandise they could get; and, giving out to the merchant that they also were merchants, wended with him by the way. So halting at the first halting-place they agreed to play him false and take all he had; but at the same time, each inwardly plotted foul play to the other, saying in his mind, "If I can cheat my comrade, times will go well with me and I shall have all these goods for myself." So after planning this perfidy, one of them took food and putting therein poison, brought it to his fellow; the other did the same and they both ate of the poisoned mess and they both died. Now they had been sitting with the merchant; so when they left him and were long absent from him, he sought for tidings of them and found the twain lying dead; whereby he knew that they were sharpers who had plotted to play him foul, but their foul play had recoiled upon themselves. So the merchant was preserved and took what they had. Then quoth the Sultan, "O Shahrazad, verily thou hast aroused me to all whereof I was negligent! So continue to edify me with these fables." Quoth she:—It hath reached me, O King, that men tell this tale of
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night/Volume 3/9

THE THIEF AND HIS MONKEY
A certain man had a monkey and that man was a thief, who never entered any of the street-markets of the city wherein he dwelt, but he made off with great profit. Now it came to pass one day that he saw a man offering for sale worn clothes, and he went calling them in the market, but none bid for them and all to whom he showed them refused to buy of him. Presently the thief who had the monkey saw the man with the ragged clothes set them in a wrapper and sit down to rest for weariness; so he made the ape sport before him to catch his eye and, whilst he was busy gazing at it, stole the parcel from him. Then he took the ape and made off to a lonely place, where he opened the wrapper and, taking out the old clothes, folded them in a piece of costly stuff. This he carried to another bazar and exposed for sale together with what was therein, making it a condition that it should not be opened, and tempting the folk with the lowness of the price he set on it. A certain man saw the wrapper and its beauty pleased him; so he bought the parcel on these terms and carried it home, doubting not that he had done well. When his wife saw it she asked, "What is this?" and he answered, "It is costly stuff, which I have bought at lowest price, meaning to sell it again and take the profit." Rejoined she, "O dupe, would this stuff be sold under its value, unless it had been stolen? Dost thou not know that whoso buyeth aught without examining it, falleth into error and becometh like unto the weaver?" Quoth he, "And what is the story of the weaver?"; and quoth she:—I have heard this take of
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night/Volume 3/7b

THE SAKER AND THE BIRDS.
There was once a saker who was a cruel tyrant——And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.
Now when it was the Hundred and Fifty-second Night,
She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the crow pursued, "They relate that there was once a saker who was a cruel tyrant in the days of his youth, so that the raveners of the air and the scavengers of the earth feared him, none being safe from his mischief; and many were the haps and mishaps of his tyranny and his violence, for this saker was ever in the habit of oppressing and injuring all the other birds. As the years passed over him, he grew feeble and his force failed him, so that he was ​ often famished; but his cunning waxed stronger with the waning of his strength and redoubled in his endeavour and determined to be present at the general assembly of the birds, that he might eat of their orts and leavings; so in this manner he fed by fraud instead of feeding by fierceness and force. And out, O fox, art like this: if thy might fail thee, thy sleight faileth thee not; and I doubt not that thy seeking my society is a fraud to get thy food; but I am none of those who fall to thee and put fist into thy fist; for that Allah hath vouchsafed force to my wings and caution to my mind and sharp sight to my eyes; and I know that whoso apeth a stronger than he, wearieth himself and haply cometh to ruin. Wherefore I fear for thee lest, if thou ape a stronger than thyself, there befal thee what befel the sparrow." Asked the fox, "What befel the sparrow?" Allah upon thee, tell me his tale." And the crow began to
* ↑ The F. Sacer in India is called "Laghar" and tiercel "Jaghar." Mr. T.E. Jordan (catalogue of Indian Birds, 1839) says it is rare; but I found it the contrary. According to Mr. R. Thompson it is flown at kites and antelope: in Sind it is used upon night-heron (nyctardea nycticorax), floriken or Hobara (Otis aurita), quail, partridge, curlew and sometimes hare: it gives excellent sport with crows but requires to be defended. Indian sportsmen, like ourselves, divide hawks into two orders: the "Siyáh-chasm," or black-eyed birds, long-winged and noble; the "Gulábi-chasm" or yellow-eyed (like the goshawk) round-winged and ignoble.
* ↑ i.e. put themselves at thy mercy.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night/Volume 3/9a

THE FOOLISH WEAVER
There was once in a certain village a weaver who worked hard but could not earn his living save by overwork. Now it chanced that one of the richards of the neighbourhood made a marriage feast ​and invited the folk thereto: the weaver also was present and found the guests, who wore rich gear, served with delicate viands and made much of by the house-master for what he saw of their fine clothes. So he said in his mind, "If I change this my craft for another craft easier to compass and better considered and more highly paid, I shall amass great store of money and I shall buy splendid attire, so I may rise in rank and be exalted in men's eyes and become even with these." Presently, he beheld one of the mountebanks, who was present at the feast, climbing up to the top of a high and towering wall and throwing himself down to the ground and alighting on his feet. Whereupon the waver said to himself, "Needs must I do as this one hath done, for surely I shall not fail of it." So he arose and swarmed upon the wall and casting himself down, broke his neck against the ground and died forthright. "Now I tell thee this that thou sayst get thy living by what way thou knowest and thoroughly understandest, lest peradventure greed enter into thee and thou lust after what is not of thy condition." Quoth the woman's husband, "Not every wise man is saved by his wisdom, nor is every fool lost by his folly. I have seen it happen to a skilful charmer, well versed in the ways of serpents, to be struck by the fangs of a snake and killed, and others prevail over serpents who had no skill in them and no knowledge of their ways." And he went contrary to his wife and persisted in buying stolen goods below their value till he fell under suspicion and perished therefor: even as perished the sparrow in the tale of
# The Canoe and the Saddle

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, quotes, travel guide, Wikidata item.
This work is subtitled “Adventures Among the Northwestern Rivers and Forests”. It is an account of the author’s adventures during his travels across the Cascade range in Washington Territory in 1853.

### Contents

* The Canoe and the Saddle
** Chapter I • An Entrance
** Chapter II • A Klalam Grandee
** Chapter III • Whulge
** Chapter IV • Owhhigh
** Chapter V • Forests of the Cascades
** Chapter VI • “Boston Tilicum”
** Chapter VII • Tacoma
** Chapter VIII • Sowee House — Loolowcan
** Chapter IX • Via Mala
** Chapter X • Treachery
** Chapter XI • Kamaiakan
** Chapter XII • Lightning and Torchlight
** Chapter XIII • The Dalles — Their Legend
* Addendum
** Vocabulary • A Partial Vocabulary of the Chinook Jargon
* Isthmiana • Published with this volume, although it is a separate work.
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 Canoe and the Saddle/Chapter I
## An Entrance

A wall of terrible breakers marks the mouth of the Columbia, Achilles of rivers.
Other mighty streams may swim feebly away seaward, may sink into foul marshes, may trickle through the ditches of an oozy delta, may scatter among sand-bars the currents that once moved majestic and united. But to this heroic flood was destined a short life and a glorious one, — a life all one strong, victorious struggle., from the mountains to the sea. It has no infancy, — two great branches collect its waters up and down the continent. They join, and the Columbia is born to full manhood. It rushes forward, jubilant, through its magnificent chasm, and leaps to its death in the Pacific.
Through its white wall of breakers Captain Gray, with his bark, the Columbia, first steered boldly to discover and name the stream. I will not invite my reader to follow this example, and buffet in the wrecking uproar on the bar. The Columbia, rolling seaward, repels us.
Let us rather coast along northward, and enter the Northwest by the Straits of De Fuca, upon the mighty tides of an inland sea. We will profit by this inward eddy of ocean to float quietly past Vancouver’s Island, and land at Kahtai, Port Townsend, the opening scene of my narrative.
The adventures chronicled in these pages happened some years ago, but the story of a civilized man’s solitary onslaught at barbarism cannot lose its interest. A drama with Indian actors, in Indian costume, upon an Indian stage, is historical, whether it happened two hundred years since in the northeast, or five years since in the northwest corner of our country.
# The Conversion of St. Vladimir/Canto 5

Illustrated by Věnceslav Černý
CANTO V
Godless Russia
Thus dire consequences often From small causes are conceived— The Russian nation had no god, Their creed now was bereaved.
It were an easy matter To find redress today, Since nearly every preacher Makes his own god from clay.
The Russians took for granted Without the slightest doubt That, since they drowned god Perun, They needs must go without.
And since of such procedure They never heard before. They dredded that their future Strange horrors held in store.
This world, though, is unchanging, While humans there abide— And spitting in the ocean Will never turn its tide.
The Ship of State in Russia Ran on an even keel, Without Perun, as smoothly As would a spinning wheel.
Old people died, and children Were born as of yore— The toper drank, the laborer Worked as he did before.
Plums ripened in the autumn, So did the luscious pear— And after the rainy weather The sky again was fair.
The sun shone but in daytime, The moon but shone at night; The summer’s heat molested The Tsar, despite his might.
Corn, wheat, had to be planted, Weeds grew with disregard; Nobility was idle, The peasant labored hard.
​Who paid his obligations Was ever favored first; Folks ate when they were hungry, And drank whene’er athirst.
All rocks and stones were solid, The lakes and rivers wet. The rich were proud, the lowly With poverty beset.
The gentry scorned the townsmen As of a lower sphere. The innkeepers, as ever, Poured water in their beer.
Impatiently youth hurried, The aged, for relief Rested; each bit of pleasure Was followed by some grief.
Whoever owned some chattels Served avarice as prize; People were mostly stupid, Only a few were wise.
Thieves and rascals prospered As in Perun’s day— Honest, trustful mortals Were their easy prey.
For this world is unchanging, Wherever people roam And spitting in the ocean Will never make it foam.
The Ship of State in Russia, Like a machine well oiled Ran on, without god Perun, Unruffled and unspoiled.
​The clerical machine, though, Came to a sudden stop, Since its collection pouches Were strangled at the top.
The cunning, wily peasants Who never miss a trick Took of god Perun’s drowning Advantage rather quick.
Donations at the Masses, And Prayers, they forebore— Why should they give their kopecks, Since Perun was no more?
Offertories were neglected, Funerals were very still; Sextons suffered of starvation, Priests could not their bellies fill.
Miracles appeared—some people Saw Saints’ pictures blood exude, And a virgin village maiden Gave birth to a dragon brood.
Signs and omens scarred the heavens, All the hags were stricken dumb; All disposed of their possessions, Fearing judgment day to come.
Women, scared of premonitions, Seemed to hear the water roar Of another flood arushing Through each crevice, crack and door.
Newlyweds were blessed with babies Three months after they were wed— Kinsmen, don your life preservers Ere the Flood pours o’er your head!
# The Conversion of St. Vladimir/Canto 6

Illustrated by Věnceslav Černý
CANTO VI
Public Audience
Vladimir, sitting on his throne At his great residence, Granted, as was his custom, A public audience.
His ministers and couns’lors And courtly cavaliers Stood ’round him at attention Like jars of fruit, in tiers.
His many secretaries, With blanched and sallow cheek, With bended back before him Kneeled, groveling and meek.
Inkwell tied to the button, And in their hand a quill, And on their back a knapsack Petitioners might fill.
Gendarmes, austere and trusty, Stood back of Vladimir, Prepared for drastic treatment If danger should appear.
Upon the floor his subjects Suppliant lay, and prone Flat on their bellies, cringing Before his mighty throne.
This time the public hearing Was boisterous and loud; Most of the Russian Clergy Made up the noisy crowd.
The popes, the priests, the deacons, The vestry of the fold, Old women candle-lighters, Boys who the church-bells tolled.
With them came chorus singers, Musicians, proselytes, The grave diggers and elders— Even the acolytes.
The drum major had scarcely Announced, so all could hear, That their kind Tsar has deigned to Lend his magnanimous ear,
When all the godly servants Began to weep and moan Like wicked gypsy women, Who for their sins atone.
Thus wailed the priests and bishops, The vestry of the fold, The candle-lighter women, Boys who the churchbells tolled.
With them the chorus singers, Musicians, acolytes, The gravediggers and cantors, Even the proselytes.
“What ails you?” came the query From ’neath the baldachin. “We're perishing, O Sire!” They cried with fearful din.
The clergy then sent forward One, who with solemn zeal Should importune His Tsarship Presenting this appeal:
“Great is our Tsar Vladimir, Sainted his power and Grace; But since you drowned our god, put Another in his place.
​“One god is like another god— It matters not at all— As long as he keeps peasants In reverence and thrall.
“They ridicule our sermons As were they asses’ bray, And they have now to no one For Vladimir to pray.
“They need some god to make them Quail with his thunder’s roar— We cannot work without one, You must some god restore!”
This argument affected His Excellency strange; It caused his disposition To take a sudden change.
And, like all mighty sovereigns He had a tender heart— Compassion would not let him Tear e’en a chick apart.
“Depart with royal grace, friends, So pious and so leal. We shall, with proper caution, Consider your appeal.”
# The Conversion of St. Vladimir/Canto 8

Illustrated by Věnceslav Černý
CANTO VIII
Camarilla
More powerful than ministries Or any Potentate, The secret Camarilla Ruled, too, the Russian State.
Preserve us, Lord—Shumavsky, The glorious contender! For every Camarilla seems To be of female gender.
In his regard of sexes Vladimir was oblique! He ruled men with an iron hand, But women made him weak.
One of his wives was Grecian And one from Normandy, Two were Bohemian beauties, And one from Bulgary.
Three hundred concubines he kept Besides, in Belegrad; Three hundred more in Brestov, Ten score in Vishegrad.
And when you add the women He kept in different Clubs— There weren’t as many beakers In all the Hessian pubs.
Attending these their mothers, Their cousins and their aunts, With numerous confessors And all their ministrants.
This mighty Camarilla Was with advice replete, Just as a butcher’s market Is ever full of meat.
Well did the clamorous lobby With candidates abound! The Tsar was much berated Because their god he drowned.
They railed and jeered and scolded, As women can,—all day— Poor Vladimir was worried, His hair turned almost gray.
And when his trusty Matthew, At night, came to undress The Tsar, he had to listen To tales of his distress.
Mat was his chief adviser— Kept everything in swing. He led the Camarilla And council by a string.
“O Mat, my dearest Matthew, Relieve me of my yoke; I cannot cope nor reason With all those womenfolk!”
Mat, after he disrobed him And put the Tsar to bed, At once to the official Newspaper’s sanctum sped.
“Make this important notice In your next sheet appear, Lest you invite a drubbing From our Tsar Vladimir!”
All Kiev’s population Next morning read with zeal In their official paper The following appeal:
​“Tsar Vladimir has ordered That, by His Royal Grace, Applicants are invited To fill god’s vacant place.
“Prospective candidates who Expect to qualify Must at Police Headquarters For legal blanks apply.”
The news of the Imperial Ukase the Tsar decreed Spread through the whole dominion As with a lightning speed.
The telegraphers’ tickers Like bees a-buzzing hurled The news through all the papers Of the entire world.
At Rome, the worthy Cardinals Enjoyed a little glass Of rum at the Red Lobster Inn Before they went to Mass.
As Cardinal Samsulini The “Augsburg Daily” spied, He jumped up from his armchair As if electrified.
He ordered him a beaker Of Lachrimae and ran, As soon as he had drunk it, Straight to the Vatican.
With the momentous tidings Into the chamber bounced He, noisily awakening The Pontiff, unannounced.
Up rose the Holy Father, Dressed with exceeding speed; Commanded all his Jesuits The Russians to stampede.
Then ordered with full rations They should themselves equip With chants of martial music, To cheer them on their trip.
# The Conversion of St. Vladimir/Canto 9

Illustrated by Věnceslav Černý
CANTO IX
The Martial Hymn of the Jesuits
“O Lord, we give Thee praise—” Kiev has troublous days.
“That day—the day of wrath—” They must accept our faith.
“We beseech Thee, Lord, to hear—” We must convert Vladimir.
“Glory to the Lord on high—” We shall catch him on the sly.
“Our God is the only one—” Now since Perun’s race has run.
“Let us peace in prayer seek—” Our humble faith is meek.
“Blessed be all those who come—” True believers must be dumb.
“HOLY, Holy, Holy be—” Every novice will be free.
“In our Lord’s holy name—” Newspapers are Satan’s game.
“Proper it is, and meet—” Good old times with honor treat.
“The Lord be ever with you hence—” Folly is valued more than sense.
“Holy Mother, to Thee we cleave—” We are threatened here with disbelief.
​“Come to us, O Holy Spirit—” We shall Russia inherit.
“Listen to our plea, Lord, hear us,” We must make the Russians fear us.
“The heavens of His glory tell—” Russia shall treat us well.
“Thou art the world’s Saviour—” We will set up a jolly corps.
“O Lord, we put our hope in Thee—” Our stay shall be a constant spree.
“Free us from evil, we entreat—” We shall feed on the choicest meat.
“To Thee, O Lord, we lift our prayer—” We shall have ham and beef to spare.
“From the depths to Thee I cry—” Their cellars will our wine supply.
“O Lord, let peace with us abide—” Their kitchen-maids shall our sport provide.
“The gates of Hell shall not prevail—” With joy their ignorance we hail.
​“My guilt, O my exceeding guilt—” Our faith on miracles is built.
“Lord, have mercy upon us—” We are so impecunious.
“O lead us not into temptation—” Take all you get, is our vocation.
“Thou wert, Thou art, wilt ever endure—” Their fear of Hell makes us secure. For ever and ever, Amen.
# The Conversion of St. Vladimir/Cover

Illustrated by Věnceslav Černý
The Conversion of St. VLADIMIR By KAREL HAVLIČEK
Illustrated by V. Černý.
Translated by Ernst Altschul