OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Letters of John Huss Written During His Exile and Imprisonment/Letter 19, To John of Chlum

LETTER XIX.
TO JOHN OF CHLUM.
[He alludes to the injuries which he had to suffer from the Council and deputies.]
If my letter has not yet been sent to Bohemia, keep it, and do not send it, for harm might come from it.
The Emperor might well ask who was to be judge, since the Council has not cited me to appear before him, nor have I been accused in his presence. Nevertheless, the Council has cast me into prison, and ordered its procurator to proceed against me.
If I obtain a public audience, I ask, noble and excellent Seignior John, that the Emperor should be present, and a place near him assigned to me, in order that he may hear me with facility. I also pray, that you, with the ​Seignior Wenceslaus, and my other protectors, be present, if you can, and hear the words that Jesus Christ, my procurator, shall put in my mouth, that whether I live or die, you may be unto me true witnesses, that impostors may not say that I abjured the truth which I preached.
Know, that in presence of witnesses and notaries, I demanded, in my prison, from the commissioners, that they would send me an advocate and procurator; they promised to do so, and afterwards refused them to me. I then confided myself to the Lord Jesus, that he may enlighten, plead, and judge my cause. I do not think that there are other subjects of accusation against me than these: First, The obstacle I raised against the publication of the bull of the Crusades: they are in possession of my treatise; they have read it to me, and I have acknowledged it. Secondly, They accuse me of having officiated when under excommunication. Thirdly, My appeal to the Pope is imputed to me as a crime: they read this appeal in my presence, and, before all, I joyfully exclaimed that this appeal should be mine. Lastly, in the fourth place, I am accused of having left behind me at Prague a writing which my enemies have interpreted against me, and in which I said—“I quit the city without a safe-conduct.” You will answer this by saying, when I left Prague, I had no safe-conduct from the Pope; and, in fact, I had none; and I was not aware, ​when I wrote that letter, that you were to accompany me in my journey. . . . . . . . . . .
After the public audience, should I obtain it, may the Emperor not permit me to be cast again into prison,—may I gather the fruits of your good counsels, and of those of your friends; and, if it should please God, tell the Emperor several things, for the advantage of Christendom, and for his own good.
# Lathrop v. Donohue/Concurrence Whittaker

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
* Concurring Opinion Whittaker
* Dissenting Opinions Black Douglas
United States Supreme Court
367 U.S. 820
Lathrop v. Donohue
Argued: Jan. 18, 1961. --- Decided: June 19, 1961
Mr. Justice WHITTAKER, concurring in result.
Believing that the State's requirement that a lawyer pay to its designee an annual fee of $15 as a condition of its grant, or of continuing its grant, to him of the special privilege (which is what it is) of practicing law in the State-which is really all that is involved here-does not violate any provision of the United States Constitution, I concur in the judgment.
Mr. Justice BLACK, dissenting.

## 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
# Lathrop v. Donohue

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, quotes, Wikidata item.

## Concurring Opinion

    Whittaker

## Dissenting Opinions

    Black
    Douglas
United States Supreme Court
367 U.S. 820
Lathrop v. Donohue
Argued: Jan. 18, 1961. --- Decided: June 19, 1961
See 82 S.Ct. 23.
[Syllabus from 820 intentionally omitted]
Mr. Trayton L. Lathrop, pro se, and Mr. Leon E. Isaksen, Madison, Wis., for appellant.
Messrs. Gordon Sinykin, Madison, Wis., and John W. Reynolds, Green Bay, Wis., for appellee.
Mr. Justice BRENNAN announced the judgment of the Court and an opinion in which THE CHIEF JUSTICE, Mr. Justice CLARK and Mr. Justice STEWART join.

## 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
# Lathrop Shea Henwood Company v. Interior Construction & Improvement Company

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
215 U.S. 246
Lathrop Shea Henwood Company v. Interior Construction & Improvement Company
Argued: October 22, 1909. --- Decided: December 6, 1909
Mr. Clarence M. Bushnell for plaintiff in error.
Mr. C. Walter Artz for defendant in error.
Mr. Justice McKenna 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
# Lathrop v. Drake

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
91 U.S. 516
Lathrop v. Drake
APPEAL from the Circuit Court of the United States for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
Mr. David C. Harrington and Mr. F . Carroll Brewster for the appellant.
Mr. William H. Armstrong, contra.
MR. JUSTICE BRADLEY 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
# Low-Life Deeps

This 1881 edition is taken from Victorianlondon.org.
LOW-LIFE DEEPS
AN ACCOUNT OF THE STRANGE FISH TO BE FOUND THERE
BY JAMES GREENWOOD AUTHOR OF "THE WILDS OF LONDON"
A NEW EDITION
London CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1881

### Preface

THE best excuse I have to offer for so soon again venturing to set before the public yet another book composed of selections from my contributions to the Daily Press, is the favour with which the last - "The Wilds of London," was generally received. Moreover, it may be claimed for the present volume that it is not entirely re-print. Included in it are several hitherto unpublished articles - "Sunday in the City," "A Fallen Star," "Down Ratcliff Way," and "A Night with old Tom." There is also another trifle of "original matter," for which I would respectfully bespeak the kind reader's attention. It refers to a subject which has occasioned me more anxiety and disquiet than any other that in my long experience it has been my lot to deal with. I allude to the Dog and Man Fight, witnessed by me last year, in Hanley, Staffordshire, and described at the time in the columns of the Daily Telegraph. I sincerely hope that the "further particulars" herein and for the first time made known, although not so absolutely conclusive as I could desire, will, at all events, go far towards convincing the most incredulous that the "Man and Dog Fight" was a Fact.
JAMES GREENWOOD Upper Holloway October, 1875

### Contents

* Chapter 1: In the Potteries
* Chapter 2: A Fallen Star
* Chapter 3: A Night on Waterloo Bridge
* Chapter 4: A Moonlight Excursion to Rosherville
* Chapter 5: Sunday in the City
* Chapter 6: "Bummarees"
* Chapter 7: Bendigo's Conversion
* Chapter 8: Charles Orton's Confession
* Chapter 9: The Italy of Leather Lane
* Chapter 10: "Down Ratcliff Way"
* Chapter 11: Curiosities of "Alley" Life
* Chapter 12: London Factory Girls
* Chapter 13: The Ice Harvest
* Chapter 14: The London 'Busman
* Chapter 15: Cellar Life in St. Giles
* Chapter 16: A Cockney Holiday
* Chapter 17: A Night with "Old Tom"
* Chapter 18: London's Bane
* Chapter 19: A Coal "Marriage"
* Chapter 20: Some Secrets of Gipsy Life
* Chapter 21: The Last Day in the Old Country
* Chapter 22: Baby Greybeards
* Chapter 23: The Betting Baker
* Chapter 24: Master Jonathan Maxsey
* Chapter 25: A "Round" with a Tally-man
* Chapter 26: The Day's Work of a London "Cadger"
* Chapter 27: A Queer Christmas Party
* Chapter 28: "To All in Debt and Difficulty"
* Chapter 29: Barnet Fair
* Chapter 30: A Londoner's Sunday Outing
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1929, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 94 years or less. 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
# Lovley Jean/The Lass in yon Town

THE LASS IN YON TOWN.
O wat ye wha’s in yon town, Ye see the e’ening sun upon? The dearest maid's in yon town, His setting beams e'er shone upon. Now haply down yon gay green shaw, She wanders by yon spreading tree; How blest ye birds that round her sing, Ye catch the glances o’ her ee. How blest ye birds that round her sing, And welcome in the blooming year; But doubly welcome is the spring, The season to my Jeanie dear.
The sun blinks blythe on yon town, Amang the broomy braes sae green; But my delights in yon town, And dearest pleasure, is my Jean. Without my fair, not a’ the charms O' Paradise could yield me joy; But gie me Jeanie in my arms, And welcome Lapland’s dreary sky My cave wad be a lover’s bower, Tho' raging winter rent the air; And she a lovelv little flower, That I wad tent and shelter there.
O sweet is she in yon town, The sinking sun's gane down upon;
The dearest maid's in yon town, His setting beam e’er shone upon; If angry fate is sworn my foe And suffering I am doom’d to bear, I’d careless quit ought else below, But spare, oh! spare my Jeanie dear. For while life’s dearest blood runs warm, My thoughts frae her shall ne’er dapart, For as she’s lovely in her form, She has the truest, kindest heart.
# Lovley Jean/The Death of Wolfe

THE DEATH OF WOLFE.
In a mouldering cave a wretched retreat, Britannia sat wasted with care: She wept for her Wolfe, then exclaim’d against Fate, and gave herself up to despair. The walls of her cell she had sculptur’d around, With th’ exploits of her favorite son; Nay, even the dust, as it lay on the ground, Was engrav’d with some deeds he had done.
The fire of the gods from his chrystaline throne, Beheld the disconsolate dame, Being mov’d with her tears, sent Mercury down, And these were the tidings that came: "Britannia, forbear, not a sigh nor a tear, For thy Wolfe so deservedly lov’d; Thy grief shall be chang’d into tumults of joy, For Wolfe is not dead, but remov’d.
"The sons of the earth, the proud giants of old, Have fled from their darksome abodes; And, such is the news that in heaven is told, They are marching to war with their gods. A council was held in the chamber of Jove, And this was their final decree; That Wolfe should be call’d to the army above, And the charge was entrusted to me.
"To the plains of Quebee with the orders I flew; Wolfe beg'd for a moment’s delay; He cry’d, ‘Oh; forbear, let me victory hear, And then the command I’ll obey.’ With a dark’ning film’d encompass’d his eyes, And bore him away in an urn; Lest the fondness he bore to his own native shore, Might tempt him again to return.”
FINIS.
# Lovley Jean/The Pitcher

THE PITCHER.
It's not yet day, it' not yet day, then why should we leave good liquor, ’Till the sun beams around us play, we’l! sit and take another pitcher, The silver moon she shines so bright, she shines most bright—I swear by Nature, That if my minute-glass goes right, we’ve time to drink the other pitcher. It’s not yet day, &c.
They tell me if I’d work all day, and sleep by night, I’d grow the richer. But what is all this world’s delight, compar’d with mirth, my friend & pitcher. It’s not yet day, it's not yet day, then why should we leave good liquor, ’Till the sun beams around us play, we’ll sit and take the other pitcher. I'ts not yet day, &c.
They tell me Tom has got a wife. whose portion will make him the richer, I envy not his happy life, give me good health, my friend & pitcher. It's not yet day, it’s not yet day then why should we leave good liquor, Till the sun beams around us play, we’ll sit and take the other pitcher. It’s not yet day, &c.
# Lovley Jean/The Bush aboon Traquair

THE BUSH ABOON TRAQUAIR.
Hear me ye nymphs and every swain, I’ll tell how Peggy grieves me,
Though this I languish, this complain, alas she ne’er believes me! My vows and sighs like silent air, unheaded never move her, At the bonny bush aboon Traquair, 'twas there I first did love her.
That day she smil’d and made me glad; no maid seem’d ever kinder, I thought myself the luckiest lad, so sweetly there to find her: I try’d to soothe my am'rous flame, in words that I thought tender, I more than pass’d I’m not to blame; I mean not to offend her:
Yet now she scornful flees the plain, the fields we then frequented, Where’ere she meets she shows disdain, she looks as ne'er aquainted. The bonny bush bloom'd fair in May, its sweets I’ll ay remember. But now her sweets it decay, it fades as in December.
Ye rural powers who hear my strains, why thus should Peggy grieve me, Oh! make her partners in my pains, then iether smiles relieve me. If not, my love will turn despair, my passion no more tender; I’ll leave the bush aboon Traquair, to lonely woods I'll wander,
# Lovley Jean/Lovely Jean

LOVELY JEAN.
OF a’ the airts the win’ can blaw, I dearly like the west; For there the bonny lassie lives, The lass that I lo’e best; Tho’ wild woods grow, an rivers row, Wi’ mony a hill between, Baith day an’ night my fancy’s fligh Is ever wi’ my Jean.
I see her in the dewy flower, Sae lovely, sweet, an’ fair; I hear her voice in ilka bird, Wi’ music charm the air; There’s not a bonny flow’r that springs, By fountain shaw or green, Nor yet a bonny bird that sings, But minds me o’ my Jean.
Upon the banks of flowing Clyde, The lasses busk them braw; But when their best they hae put on, My Jeanie dings them a’; In hamely weeds she far exceeds, The fairest of the town; Baith grave and gay confess it sae, Tho’ dress'd in russet gown.
The gamesome lamb that sucks the dam, Mair harmless canna be; She has nae faut (if sick we ca't) Except her love to me; The sparkling dew, of clearest hue, Is like her shining een; In shape an’ air wha can compare, Wi' my sweet lovely Jean.
O blaw, ye westlin win’s, blaw soft, Amang the leafy trees; Wi' gentle breath, frae muir an' dale; Bring hame the laden bees; An' bring the lassie back to me, That's ay sae neat an’ clean! Ae blink o’ her wad banish care, Sae charming is my Jean!
What sighs and vows amang the knowes, Hae past atween us twa; How fain to meet and wae to part, That day she gade awa! The pow’rs aboon can only ken, To whom the heart is seen; That nane can be sae dear to me. As my sweet lovely Jean.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1836/Immolation of a Hindoo Widow

7
* A SUTTEE. PREPARING FOR THE IMMOLATION OF A HINDOO WIDOW.
* Artist: Capt. Grindlay - Engraved by: J. Redaway
IMMOLATION OF A HINDOO WIDOW.
Gather her raven hair in one rich cluster,
Let the white champac light it, as a star
Gives to the dusky night a sudden lustre,
Shining afar.
Shed fragrant oils upon her fragrant bosom,
Until the breathing air around grows sweet;
Scatter the languid jasmine’s yellow blossom
Beneath her feet.
Those small white feet are bare—too soft are they
To tread on aught but flowers; and there is roll’d
Round the slight ankle, meet for such display,
The band of gold.
Chains and bright stones are on her arms and neck; What pleasant vanities are linked with them,
Of happy hours, which youth delights to deck
With gold and gem.
She comes! So comes the Moon, when has she found A silvery path wherein through heaven to glide. Fling the white veil—a summer cloud—around;
She is a bride!
And yet the crowd that gather at her side
Are pale, and every gazer holds his breath.
Eyes fill with tears unbidden, for the bride—
The bride of Death!
She gives away the garland from her hair,
She gives the gems that she will wear no more;
All the affections, whose love-signs they were,
Are gone before.
The red pile blazes—let the bride ascend,
And lay her head upon her husband’s heart,
Now in a perfect unison to blend—
No more to part.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1836/Scenes in London: Oxford Street

81
SCENES IN LONDON: OXFORD STREET.
IFE in its many shapes was there,  The busy and the gay; Faces that seemed too young and fair  To ever know decay.
Wealth, with its waste, its pomp, and pride,  Led forth its glittering train; And poverty’s pale face beside  Asked aid, and asked in vain.
The shops were filled from many lands,  Toys, silks, and gems, and flowers; The patient work of many hands,  The hope of many hours.
Yet, mid life’s myriad shapes around  There was a sigh of death; There rose a melancholy sound,  The bugle’s wailing breath.
They played a mournful Scottish air,  That on its native hill Had caught the notes the night-winds bear  From weeping leaf and rill.
’Twas strange to hear that sad wild strain  Its warning music shed, Rising above life’s busy train,  In memory of the dead.
There came a slow and silent band  In sad procession by: Reversed the musket in each hand,  And downcast every eye.
They bore the soldier to his grave;  The sympathising crowd Divided like a parted wave  By some dark vessel ploughed.
A moment, and all sounds were mute,  For awe was over all; You heard the soldier's measured foot,  The bugle's wailing call.
The gloves were laid upon the bier,  The helmet and the sword, The drooping war-horse followed near,  As he, too, mourned his lord.
Slowly—I followed too—they led  To where a church arose, And flung a shadow o’er the dead,  Deep as their own repose.
Green trees were there—beneath the shade  Of one, was made a grave; And there to his last rest was laid  The weary and the brave.
They fired a volley o’er the bed,  Of an unconscious ear; The birds sprang fluttering over-head,  Struck with a sudden fear.
All left the ground, the bugles died  Away upon the wind; Only the tree’s green branches sighed  O’er him they left behind.
Again, all filled with light and breath,  I passed the crowded street— Oh, great extremes of life and death,  How strangely do ye meet!
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1836/Scenes in London:—Piccadilly

12
SCENES IN LONDON:—PICCADILLY.
The sun is on the crowded street,  It kindles those old towers; Where England’s noblest memories meet,  Of old historic hours.
Vast, shadowy, dark, and indistinct,  Tradition’s giant fane, Whereto a thousand years are linked,  In one electric chain.
So stands it when the morning light  First steals upon the skies; And shadow’d by the fallen night,  The sleeping city lies.
It stands with darkness round it cast,  Touched by the first cold shine; Vast, vague, and mighty as the past,  Of which it is the shrine.
’Tis lovely when the moonlight falls  Around the sculptured stone Giving a softness to the walls,  Like love that mourns the gone.
Then comes the gentlest influence  The human heart can know, The mourning over those gone hence  To the still dust below.
The smoke, the noise, the dust of day,  Have vanished from the scene; The pale lamps gleam with spirit ray  O'er the park's sweeping green.
Sad shining on her lonely path,  The moon’s calm smile above, Seems as it lulled life’s toil and wrath  With universal love.
Past that still hour, and its pale moon,  The city is alive; It is the busy hour of noon,  When man must seek and strive.
The pressure of our actual life  Is on the waking brow;
Labour and care, endurance, strife,  These are around him now.
How wonderful the common street,  Its tumult and its throng, The hurrying of the thousand feet  That bear life's cares along.
How strongly is the present felt,  With such a scene beside; All sounds in one vast murmur melt  The thunder of the tide.
All hurry on—none pause to look  Upon another’s face: The present is an open book  None read, yet all must trace.
The poor man hurries on his race,  His daily bread to find; The rich man has yet wearier chase,  For pleasure’s hard to bind.
All hurry, though it is to pass  For which they live so fast— What doth the present but amass,  The wealth that makes the past.
The past is round us—those old spires  That glimmer o’er our head; Not from the present is their fires,  Their light is from the dead.
But for the past, the present’s powers  Were waste of toil and mind; But for those long and glorious hours  Which leave themselves behind.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1836/Scenes in London:—The Savoyard in Grosvenor Square

34
SCENES IN LONDON.—THE SAVOYARD IN GROSVENOR SQUARE.
He stands within the silent square,  That square of state, of gloom; A heavy weight is on the air,  Which hangs as o’er a tomb.
It is a tomb which wealth and rank  Have built themselves around— The general sympathies have shrank  Like flowers on high dry ground.
None heed the wandering boy who sings,  An orphan though so young; None think how far the singer brings  The songs which he has sung.
None cheer him with a kindly look,  None with a kindly word; The singer’s little pride must brook  To be unpraised, unheard.
At home, their sweet bird he was styled,  And oft, when days were long, His mother called her favourite child,  To sing her favourite song.
He wanders now through weary streets,  Till cheek and eye are dim; How little sympathy he meets,  For music or for him.
Sudden his dark brown cheek grows bright  His dark eyes fill with glee, Covered with blossoms snowy-white,  He sees an orange tree.
No more the toil-worn face is pale,  Nor faltering step is sad; He sees his distant native vale,  He sees it, and is glad.
He sees the squirrel climb the pine,  The doves fly through the dell, The purple clusters of the vine;  He hears the vesper bell.
His heart is full of hope and home,  Toil, travel, are no more; And he has happy hours to come  Beside his father’s door.
Oh, charm of natural influence!  But for thy lovely ties, Never might the world-wearied sense  Above the present rise.
Blessed be thy magic every where,  Oh Nature, gentle mother; How kindlier is for us thy care,  Than ours is for each other.