OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Prophet of Palmyra

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THE PROPHET OF PALMYRA
IT was at Palmyra, New York, that the principles of Mormonism were first enunciated by Joseph Smith, who claimed to have found the golden plates of the Book of Mormon in a hill-side in neighboring Manchester,—the "Hill of Cumorah,"—to which he was led by angels. The plates were written in characters similar to the masonic cabala, and he translated them by divine aid, giving to the world the result of his discovery. The Hebrew prophet Mormon was the alleged author of the record, and his son Moroni buried it. The basis of Mormonism was, however, an unpublished novel, called "The Manuscript Found," that was read to Sidney Rigdon (afterwards a Mormon elder) by its author, ​a clergyman, and that formulated a creed for a hypothetical church. Smith had a slight local celebrity, for he and his father were operators with the divining-rod, and when he appropriated this creed—a harmless and beneficent one, for polygamy was a later inspiration" of Brigham Young—and began to preach it, in 1844, it gained many converts. His arrogation of the presidency of the "Church of Latter Day Saints" and other rash performances won for him the enmity of the Gentiles, who imprisoned and killed him at Carthage, Missouri, leaving Brigham Young to lead the people across the deserts to Salt Lake, where they prospered through thrift and industry.
It was claimed that in the van of this army, on the march to Utah, was often seen a venerable man with silver beard, who never spoke, but who would point the way whenever the pilgrims were faint or discouraged. When they reached the spot where the temple was afterwards built, he struck his staff into the earth and vanished.
At Hydesville, near Palmyra, spiritualism, as it is commonly called, came into being on March 31, 1849, when certain of the departed announced themselves by thumping on doors and tables in the house of the Fox family, the survivors of which confessed the fraud nearly forty years after. It is of interest to note that the ground whence these new religions sprang was peopled by the Onondagas, the sacerdotal class of the Algonquin tribe, who have preserved the ancient religious rites of that great family until this day.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/A Villain's Cremation

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A VILLAIN'S CREMATION
BRAMLEY'S Mountain, near the present village of Bloomfield, New York, on the edge of the Catskill group, was the home of a young couple that had married with rejoicing and had taken up the duties and pleasures of housekeeping with enthusiasm. To be sure, in those days housekeeping was not a thing to be much, afraid of, and the servant question had not come up for discussion. The housewives did the work themselves, and the husband had no valets. The domicile of this particular pair was merely a tent of skins stretched around a frame of poles, and their furniture consisted principally of furs strewn over the earth floor; but they loved each other truly. The girl was thankful to be taken from her home to live, because, up to the time of her marriage, she had been persecuted by a morose and ill-looking fellow of her tribe, who laid siege to her affection with such vehemence that the more he pleaded the greater was her dislike; and now she hoped that she had seen the last of him. But that was not to be. He lurked about the wigwam of the pair, torturing himself with the sight of their felicity, and awaiting his chance to prove his hate.
This chance came when the husband had gone to Lake Delaware to fish, for he rowed after and gave battle in the middle of the pond. Taken by surprise, and being insufficiently armed, the husband ​was killed and his body flung into the water. Then, casting an affectionate leer at the wife who had watched this act of treachery and malice with speechless horror from the mountain-side, he drove his canoe ashore and set off in pursuit of her. She retreated so slowly as to allow him to keep her in sight, and when she entered a cave he pressed forward eagerly, believing that now her escape was impossible; but she had purposely trapped him there, for she had already explored a tortuous passage that led to the upper air, and by this she had left the cavern in safety while he was groping and calling in the dark. Returning to the entrance, she loosened, by a jar, a ledge that overhung it, so that the door was almost blocked; then, gathering light wood from the dry trees around her, she made a fire and hurled the burning sticks into the prison where the wretch was howling, until he was dead in smoke and flame. When his yells and curses had been silenced she told a friend what she had done, then going back to the lake, she sang her death-song and cast herself into the water, hoping thus to rejoin her husband.
# The Herald-News/1942/Charles F. Freudenberg

* related portals: Charles Frederick Freudenberg.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Charles Frederick Freudenberg (1887-1942) obituary published in The Herald-News on August 1, 1942.
Charles F. Freudenberg
Charles F. Freudenberg, 39, a salesman, died yesterday at his home, 282 Willow Avenue, Lyndhurst. Until his illness three year ago, he was an active member of Adonlram Lodge, F. and A. M. and the Lyndhurst Lodge of Elks. He was born in Hoboken and lived in Lyndhurst sixteen years. Surviving are his wife, Julia Buttomer Freudenberg; son, Charles, Jr. The Reverend Rowland F. Nye, pastor of St. Thomas' Episcopal Church, Lyndhurst, will conduct the funeral service tomorrow.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was legally published within the United States (or the United Nations Headquarters in New York subject to Section 7 of the United States Headquarters Agreement) before 1964, and copyright was not renewed.
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Works could have had their copyright renewed between January 1st of the 27th year after publication or registration and December 31st of the 28th year. As this work's copyright was not renewed, it entered the public domain on January 1st of the 29th year.
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It is imperative that contributors ascertain that there is no evidence of a copyright renewal before using this license. Failure to do so will result in the deletion of the work as a copyright violation.
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# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Monster Mosquito

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THE MONSTER MOSQUITO
THEY have some pretty big mosquitoes in New Jersey and on Long Island, but, if report of their ancestry is true, they have degenerated in size and voracity; for the grandfather of all mosquitoes used to live in the neighborhood of Fort Onondaga, ​New York, and sallying out whenever he was hungry, would eat an Indian or two and pick his teeth with their ribs. The red men had no arms that could prevail against it, but at last the Holder of the Heavens, hearing their cry for aid, came down and attacked the insect. Finding that it had met its match, the mosquito flew away so rapidly that its assailant could hardly keep it in sight. It flew around the great lake, then turned eastward again. It sought help vainly of the witches that brooded in the sink-holes, or Green Lakes (near Janewille, New York), and had reached the salt lake of Onondaga when its pursuer came up and killed it, the creature piling the sand into hills in its dying struggles.
As its blood poured upon the earth it became small mosquitoes, that gathered about the Holder of the Heavens and stung him so sorely that he half repented the service that he had done to men. The Tuscaroras say that this was one of two monsters that stood on opposite banks of the Seneca River and slew all men that passed. Hiawatha killed the other one. On their reservation is a stone, marked by the form of the Sky Holder, that shows where he rested during the chase, while his tracks were until lately seen south of Syracuse, alternating with footprints of the mosquito, which were shaped like those of a bird, and twenty inches long. At Brighton, New York, where these marks appeared, they were reverentially renewed by the Indians for many years.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Nuns of Carthage

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THE NUNS OF CARTHAGE
AT Carthage, New York, where the Black River bends gracefully about a point, there was a stanch old house, built in the colonial fashion and designed for the occupancy of some family of hospitality and wealth, but the family died out or moved away, and for some years it remained deserted. During the war of 1812 the village gossips were excited by the appearance of carpenters, painters and upholsterers, and it was evident that the place was to be restored to its manorial dignities; but their curiosity was deepened instead of satisfied when, after the ​house had been put in order and high walls built around it, the occupants presented themselves as four young women in the garb of nuns. Were they daughters of the family? Were they English sympathizers in disguise, seeking asylum in the days of trouble! Had they registered a vow of celibacy until their lovers should return from the war! Were they on a secret and diplomatic errand? None ever knew, at least in Carthage. The nuns lived in great privacy, but in a luxury before unequalled in that part of the country. They kept a gardener, they received from New York wines and delicacies that others could not afford, and when they took the air, still veiled, it was behind a splendid pair of bays.
One afternoon, just after the close of the war, a couple of young American officers went to the convent, and, contrary to all precedent, were admitted. They remained within all that day, and no one saw them leave, but a sound of wheels passed through the street that evening. Next day there were no signs of life about the place, nor the day following, nor the next. The savage dog was quiet and the garden walks had gone unswept. Some neighbors climbed over the wall and reported that the place had been deserted. Why and by whom no one ever knew, but a cloud remained upon its title until a recent day, for it was thought that at some time the nuns might return.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Green Picture

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THE GREEN PICTURE
IN a cellar in Green Street, Schenectady, there appeared, some years ago, the silhouette of a human form, painted on the floor in mould. It was swept and scrubbed away, but presently it was there again, and month by month, after each removal, it returned: a mass of fluffy mould, always in the shape of a recumbent man. When it was found that the house stood on the site of the old Dutch burial ground, the gossips fitted this and that together and concluded that the mould was planted by a spirit whose mortal part was put to rest a century and more ago, on the spot covered by the house, and that the spirit took this way of apprising people that they were trespassing on its grave. Others held that foul play had been done, and that a corpse, hastily and shallowly buried, was yielding itself back to the damp cellar in vegetable form, before its resolution into simpler elements. But a darker meaning was that it was the outline of a vampire that vainly strove to leave its grave, and could not because a virtuous spell had been worked about the place.
A vampire is a dead man who walks about seeking for those whose blood he can suck, for only by supplying new life to its cold limbs can he keep the privilege of moving about the earth. He fights his way from his coffin, and those who meet his gray and stiffened shape, with fishy eyes and blackened mouth, lurking by open windows, biding his time to ​steal in and drink up a human life, fly from him in terror and disgust. In northern Rhode Island those who die of consumption are believed to be victims of vampires who work by charm, draining the blood by slow draughts as they lie in their graves. To lay this monster he must be taken up and burned; at least, his heart mast be; and he must be disinterred in the daytime when he is asleep and unaware. If he died with blood in his heart he has this power of nightly resurrection. As late as 1892 the ceremony of heart-burning was performed at Exeter, Rhode Island, to save the family of a dead woman that was threatened with the same disease that removed her, namely, consumption. But the Schenectady vampire has yielded up all his substance, and the green picture is no more.
# United States v. Google

UNITED STATES DISTRICT COURT FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA :
| UNITED STATES OF AMERICA et al., UNITPlaintiffs, UNITPlaintiv. GOOGLE LLC, GOOGDefendant. | ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) | Case No. 20-cv-3010 (APM) |
| STATE OF COLORADO et al., UNITPlaintiffs, UNITPlaintiv. GOOGLE LLC, GOOGDefendant. | ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) | Case No. 20-cv-3715 (APM) (APM) |
MEMORANDUM OPINION
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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
# Krákumál

* related portals: Old Norse literature.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
English-language translations of Krákumál include:
* "Dying Ode of Regner Lodbrog" in Five Pieces of Runic Poetry (1763), translated by Thomas Percy
* "Extracts from the Ode of Regner Lodbrog" in Northern Antiquities, Volume 2 (1770), translated by Thomas Percy
* Lodbrokar-Quida, or the Death Song of Lodbroc (1782), translated by James Johnstone
# Baldrs draumar

* related portals: Old Norse literature.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, Wikidata item.
English-language translations of Baldrs draumar include:
* The Descent of Odin. An Ode, translated by Thomas Gray (1761)
* Song of the Traveller, translated by Amos Simon Cottle (1797)
* The Lay of Vegtam, or Baldur's Dream, translated by Benjamin Thorpe (1866, reprinted 1907)
* Baldrs Draumar, translated by Henry Adams Bellows (1936)
* Baldrs draumar, translated by Wikisource editors
# United States v. Google/Findings of Fact/Section 2A

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​II. GENERAL SEARCH ENGINES
    A. Overview
21. Google, Bing, Yahoo, DDG, Ecosia, and Brave are GSEs. See, e.g., id. at 2168:1-4 (Giannandrea); id. at 1031:2-10 (Higgins); id. at 1942:11-17 (Weinberg); id. at 8201:23-24 (Reid). There is “relatively limited [user] overlap between the general search engines.” Id. at 8728:23-24 (Israel).
22. Bing is Google’s largest general search competitor today. Id. at 8094:8-10 (Raghavan). It is the only rival that crawls the web and generates its own search results. The next two largest search engines, Yahoo and DDG, syndicate their search results from Bing. See id. at 3520:13-25 (Nadella).
23. By 2009, 80% of all general search queries, whether entered on a desktop computer or mobile device, flowed through Google. Id. at 4762:4-12 (Whinston) (discussing UPXD102 at 48); e.g., UPX472; see also Tr. at 203:21–204:5 (Varian) (Google began measuring its search share against other GSEs monthly in 2009). That percentage had increased from 80% to 89.2% by 2020. Tr. at 4761:14–4762:8 (Whinston) (discussing UPXD102 at 47).
​24. Google’s share of search queries on mobile devices was even higher at 94.9% in 2020. Id. at 4762:19–4763:2 (Whinston) (discussing UPXD102 at 49); see also UPX476 at 668 (Google’s internal share calculation of 98% of mobile GSE queries in 2019). The percentage on desktop devices was 84%. See UPX476 at 668.
25. Google’s second-place rival, Bing, receives roughly 6% of all search queries. Tr. at 4761:12-14 (Whinston) (discussing UPXD102 at 47). Bing (5.5%), Yahoo (2.2%), DDG (2.1%), and other rivals (0.9%) together see less than 11% of all queries. Id. Their numbers are even lower on mobile devices. Id. at 4762:19–4763:2 (Whinston) (discussing UPXD102 at 49) (Bing (1.3%), Yahoo (2.1%), DDG (1.5%), and others (0.2%)). Bing’s market share has never risen above 12%. See id. at 4762:4-12 (Whinston) (discussing UPXD102 at 48).
26. Bing sees more desktop queries than mobile queries because it has greater distribution on Windows desktop devices, where it is the default GSE on the preloaded Edge browser. See id. at 3096:14-18 (Tinter).
# Free Air

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
FREE AIR
BY
SINCLAIR LEWIS
AUTHOR OF
THE JOB, Etc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERSNEW YORK
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1919, by
HARCOURT, BRACE AND HOWE, Inc.
CONTENTS
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI
XXVII
XXVIII
XXIX
XXX
XXXI
XXXII
XXXIII
XXXIV
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 1951, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 72 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
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Skull in the Wall

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THE SKULL IN THE WALL
A SKULL is built into the wall above the door of the court-house at Goshen, New York. It was taken from a coffin unearthed in 1842, when the foundation of the building was laid. People said there was no doubt about it, only Claudius Smith could have worn that skull, and he deserved to be publicly pilloried in that manner. Before the Revolutionary war Smith was a farmer in Monroe, New York, and being prosperous enough to feel the king's taxes no burden, to say nothing of his jealousy of the advantage that an independent government would be to the hopes of his poorer neighbors, he declared for the king. After the declaration of independence had been published, his sympathies were illustrated in an unpleasantly practical manner by gathering a troop of other Tories about him, and, emboldened by the absence of most of the men of his vicinage in the colonial army, he began to harass the country as grievously in foray as the red-coats were doing in open field.
He pillaged houses and barns, then burned them; he insulted women, he drove away cattle and horses, he killed several persons who had undertaken to defend their property. His "campaigns" were managed with such secrecy that nobody knew when or whence to look for him. His murder of Major Nathaniel Strong, of Blooming Grove, roused indignation to such a point that a united effort was made ​to catch him, a money reward for success acting as a stimulus to the vigilance of the hunters, and at last he was captured on Long Island. He was sent back to Goshen, tried, convicted, and on January 22, 1779, was hanged, with five of his band. The bodies of the culprits were buried in the jail-yard, on the spot where the court-house stands, and old residents identified Smith's skeleton, when it was accidentally exhumed, by its uncommon size. A farmer from an adjacent town made off with a thigh bone, and a mason clapped mortar into the empty skull and cemented it into the wall, where it long remained.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Haunted Mill

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THE HAUNTED MILL
AMONG the settles in the Adirondacks, forty or fifty years ago, was Henry Clymer, from Brooklyn, who went up to Little Black Creek and tried to make a farm out of the gnarly, stumpy land; but being a green hand at that sort of thing, he soon gave it up and put up the place near Northwood, that is locally referred to as the haunted mill. When the first slab was cut, a big party was on hand to cheer and eat pie in honor of the Clymers, for Mr. Clymer, who was a dark, hearty, handsome fellow, and his bright young wife had been liberal in their hospitality. The couple had made some talk, they were so loving before folks—too loving to last; and, besides, it was evident that Mrs. Clymer was used to a better station in life than her husband. It was while the crowd ​was laughing and chattering at the picnic-table of new boards from the mill that Mrs. Clymer stole away to her modest little house, and a neighbor who had followed her was an accidental witness to a singular episode. Mrs. Clymer was kneeling beside her bed, crying over the picture of a child, when Clymer entered unexpectedly and attempted to take the picture from her.
She faced him defiantly. "You kept that because it looked like him, I reckon," he said. "You might run back to him. You know what he'd call you and where you'd stand with your aristocracy."
The woman pointed to the door, and the man left without another word, and so did the listener. Next morning the body of Mrs. Clymer was found hanging to a beam in the mill. At the inquest the husband owned that he had "had a few words" with her on the previous day, and thought that she must have suddenly become insane. The jury took this view. News of the suicide was printed in some of the city papers, and soon after that the gossips had another sensation, for a fair-haired man, also from Brooklyn, arrived at the place and asked where the woman was buried. When he found the grave he sat beside it for some time, his head resting on his hand; then he inquired for Clymer, but Clymer, deadly pale, had gone into the woods as soon as he heard that a stranger had arrived. The new-comer went to Trenton, where he ordered a gravestone bearing the single word "Estella" to be placed ​where the woman's body had been interred. Clymer quickly sold out and disappeared. The mill never prospered, and has long been in a ruinous condition. People of the neighborhood think that the ghost of Mrs. Clymer was that her name still troubles it, and they pass the place with quickened steps.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/Old Indian Face

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OLD INDIAN FACE
ON Lower Ausable Pond is a large, ruddy rock showing a huge profile, with another, resembling a pappoose, below it. When the Tahawi ruled this region their sachem lived here at "the Dark Cup," at they called this lake, a man renowned for virtue and remarkable, in his age, for gentleness. When his children had died and his manly grandson, who was the old man's hope, had followed them to the land of the cloud mountains, Adota's heart withered within him, and standing beneath this rock, he addressed his people, recounting what he had done for them, how he had swept their enemies from the Lakes of the Clustered Stars (the Lower Saranac) and Silver Sky (Upper Saranac) to the Lake of Wandah, gaining a land where they might hunt and fish in peace. The little one, the Star, had been ravished away to crown the brow of the thunder god, who, even now, was advancing across the peaks, bending the woods and lighting the valleys with his jagged torches.
Life was nothing to him longer; he resigned it. ​As he spoke these words he fell back, and the breath passed out of him. Then came the thunder god, and with an appalling burst of fire sent the people cowering. The roar that followed seemed to shake the earth, but the medicine-man of the tribe stood still, listening to the speech of the god in the clouds. "Tribe of the Tahawi," he translated, "Adota treads the star-path to the happy hunting-grounds, and the sun is shining on his heart. He will never walk among you again, but the god loves both him and you, and he will set his face on the mountains. Look!" And, raising their eyes, they beheld the likeness of Adota and of his beloved child, the Star, graven by lightning-stroke on the cliff. There they buried the body of Adota and held their solemn festivals until the white men drove them out of the country.