OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Looking Backward, 2000-1887/Chapter 17

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CHAPTER XVII.
I FOUND the processes at the warehouse quite as interesting as Edith had described them, and became even enthusiastic over the truly remarkable illustration which is seen there of the prodigiously multiplied efficiency which perfect organization can give to labor. It is like a gigantic mill, into the hopper of which goods are being constantly poured by the train-load and ship-load, to issue at the other end in packages of pounds and ounces, yards and inches, pints and gallons, corresponding to the infinitely complex personal needs of half a million people. Dr. Leete, with the assistance of data furnished by me as to the way goods were sold in my day, figured out some astounding results in the way of the economies effected by the modern system.
As we set out homeward, I said: "After ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/255 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/256 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/257 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/258 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/259 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/260 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/261 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/262 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/263 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/264 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/265 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/266 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/267 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/268 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/269 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/270 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/271 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/272 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/273 ​electing officials by votes of the retired members of the guilds is nothing more than the application on a national scale of the plan of government by alumni, which we used to a slight extent occasionally in the management of our higher educational institutions."
"Did you, indeed?" exclaimed Dr. Leete, with animation. "That is quite new to me, and I fancy will be to most of us, and of much interest as well. There has been great discussion as to the germ of the idea, and we fancied that there was for once something new under the sun. Well! well! In your higher educational institutions I that is interesting indeed. You must tell me more of that."
"Truly, there is very little more to tell than I have told already," I replied. "If we had the germ of your idea, it was but as a germ."
# Looking Backward, 2000-1887/Chapter 16

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CHAPTER XVI.
NEXT morning I rose somewhat before the breakfast hour. As I descended the stairs, Edith stepped into the hall from the room which had been the scene of the morning interview between us described some chapters back.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, with a charmingly arch expression, "you thought to slip out unbeknown for another of those solitary morning rambles which have such nice effects on you. But you see I am up too early for you this time. You are fairly caught."
"You discredit the efficacy of your own cure," I said, "by supposing that such a ramble would now be attended with bad consequences."
"I am very glad to hear that," she said. "I was in here arranging some flowers for the ​breakfast table when I heard you come down, and fancied I detected something surreptitious in your step on the stairs."
"You did me injustice," I replied. "I had no idea of going out at all."
Despite her effort to convey an impression that my interception was purely accidental, I had at the time a dim suspicion of what I afterwards learned to be the fact, namely, that this sweet creature, in pursuance of her self-assumed guardianship over me, had risen for the last two or three mornings, at an unheard of hour, to insure against the possibility of my wandering off alone in case I should be affected as on the former occasion. Receiving permission to assist her in making up the breakfast bouquet, I followed her into the room from which she had emerged.
"Are you sure," she asked, "that you are quite done with those terrible sensations you had that morning?"
"I can't say that I do not have times of feel​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/245 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/246 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/247 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/248 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/249 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/250 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/251 ​Page:Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (Bellamy).pdf/252 ​as any other," replied Dr. Leete; "but you can do something else better. You are easily the master of all our historians on questions relating to the social condition of the latter part of the nineteenth century, to us one of the most absorbingly interesting periods of history; and whenever in due time you have sufficiently familiarize yourself with our institutions, and are willing to teach us something concerning those of your day, you will find an historical lectureship in one of our colleges awaiting you."
"Very good! very good, indeed," I said, much relieved by so practical a suggestion on a point which had begun to trouble me. "If your people are really so much interested in the nineteenth century, there will indeed be an occupation ready made for me. I don't think there is anything else that I could possibly earn my salt at, but I certainly may claim without conceit to have some special qualifications for such a post as you describe."
# A Dictionary of Music and Musicians/Weist-Hill, Henry

[ A. C. ]
# The Des Moines Register/1911/Herme F. Hahnen Dies in Hospital

* related portals: Herme Francis Hahnen, Zora Montgomery Courtney, Gretchen Frances Hahnen.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
Herme Francis Hahnen (1880-1911) in Des Moines Tribune on February 27, 1911.
Herme F. Hahnen Dies in Hospital
Iowa National Bank's Chief Clerk Is Victim of Appendicitis.
Well Known Man
West High School Graduate and Organizer of Altoona Savings Bank Succumbs to a Short Illness.
Herme F. Hahnen, 31 years old, chief clerk of the Iowa National bank, and a leader among the younger men in the banking circles of Des Moines, died at 7:10 o'clock Sunday morning at Mercy hospital of appendicitis followed by peritonitis. He was taken ill on Monday, February 13, and his case was critical from the beginning. Upon his removal to the hospital, the following Tuesday an operation was performed but his ailment was far advanced, and his life hung by a thread. Mr. Hahnen, who was born in Des Moines February 15, 1880, leaves a wife, who, before her marriage, was Miss Zora Courtney of Galesburg, Illinois, and two children, Gretchen, 9 years old, and Robert, 4 years old. He was married nine years ago.
Parents Survive.
His father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Hahnen, 1070 West Seventh street, and six sisters and two brothers, survive. He was the second to die of a family of ten children. The brothers and sisters are E. A. Hahnen, 1348 Maple street; W. H. Hahnen of Joplin, Missouri; Mrs. M. R. Davis, Miss Minnie Hahnen and Miss Josephine Hahnen, 1070 West Seventh street; Mrs. Anna Wirt, 1543 West Fourth street; Mrs. Claude Englebeck, Fourteenth and Clark streets, and Mrs. D. B. Ransburg of Minneapolis. The funeral services will he held at St. John's Lutheran church, of which Mr. Hahnen was a member. Tuesday afternoon at 3 o'clock. The Reverend A. B. Learner will officiate. Interment will be made in Woodland cemetery. The pallbearers will be former associates of Mr. Hahnen in the Iowa National bank. The deceased was a graduate of West High and had been in the banking business in Des Moines for eighteen years. Recently he was one of the organizers of the Altoona Savings Bank. He would have been vice president of the institution.
Long Time Banker.
Eighteen years ago he entered the employ of the New England Loan & Trust company as bookkeeper, remaining with it two years. He then went to the Citizens' National bank where he was bookkeeper for eight years, he joined the force of the Iowa National bank eight years ago and at his death was chief clerk with ten clerks under him. Being an expert accountant his services were frequently in demand by bankers generally. He was held in the highest esteem by his employees, and there is not a man connected with entire banking business in Des Moines who does not feel that he has suffered a great loss in Mr. Hahnen's death.
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
# Biography and family record of Lorenzo Snow

* information about this edition.
* related portals: Mormonism.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.

## Index
### Chapters

* Title Page
* Preface
* Contents
* Chapter I
* Chapter II
* Chapter III
* Chapter IV
* Chapter V
* Chapter VI
* Chapter VII
* Chapter VIII
* Chapter IX
* Chapter X
* Chapter XI
* Chapter XII
* Chapter XIII
* Chapter XIV
* Chapter XV
* Chapter XVI
* Chapter XVII
* Chapter XVIII
* Chapter XIX
* Chapter XX
* Chapter XXI
* Chapter XXII
* Chapter XXIII
* Chapter XXIV
* Chapter XXV
* Chapter XXVI
* Chapter XXVII
* Chapter XXVIII
* Chapter XXIX
* Chapter XXX
* Chapter XXXI
* Chapter XXXII
* Chapter XXXIII
* Chapter XXXIV
* Chapter XXXV
* Chapter XXXVI
* Chapter XXXVII
* Chapter XXXVIII
* Chapter XXXIX
* Chapter XL
* Chapter XLI
* Chapter XLII
* Chapter XLIII
* Chapter XLIV
* Chapter XLV
* Chapter XLVI
* Chapter XLVII
* Chapter XLVIII
* Chapter XLIX
* Chapter L
* Chapter LI
* Chapter LII
* Chapter LIII
* Chapter LIV
* Chapter LV
* Chapter LVI
* Chapter LVII
* Chapter LVIII
* Chapter LIX
* Chapter LX
* Chapter LXI
* Chapter LXII
* Chapter LXIII

### Letters

* Letter I
* Letter II
* Letter III
* Letter IV
* Letter V
* Letter VI
* Letter VII
* Letter VIII
* Letter IX
* Letter X
* Letter XI
* Letter XII
* Letter XIII
* Letter XIV
* Letter XV
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
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/Eliza Wharton

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ELIZA WHARTON
UNDER the name of Eliza Wharton for a brief time lived a woman whose name was said to be Elizabeth Whitman. Little is known of her, and it is thought that she had gone among strangers to conceal disgrace. She died without telling her story. In 1788 she arrived at the Bell Tavern, Danvers, in company with a man, who, after seeing her properly bestowed, drove away and never returned. A graceful, beautiful, well-bred woman, with face overcast by a tender melancholy, she kept indoors with her books, her sewing, and a guitar, avoiding the gossip of the idle. She said that her husband was absent on a journey, and a letter addressed to "Mrs. Eliza Wharton" was to be seen on her table when she received callers. Once a stranger paused at her door and read the name thereon. As he passed on the woman groaned, "I am undone!" One good woman, seeing her need of care and defiant of village prattling, took her to her home, and there, after giving birth to a dead child, she passed away. Among her effects were letters full of pathetic appeal, and some verses, closing thus:
​A stone was raised above her grave, by whom it is not known, and this inscription was engraved thereon: "This humble stone, in memory of Elizabeth Whitman, is inscribed by her weeping friends, to whom she endeared herself by uncommon tenderness and affection. Endowed with superior genius and acquirements, she was still more endeared by humility and benevolence. Let candor throw a veil over her frailties, for great was her charity for others. She sustained the last painful scene far from every friend, and exhibited an example of calm resignation. Her departure was оп the 25th of July, 1788, in the thirty-seventh year of her age, and the tears of strangers watered her grave."
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Fatal Forget-me-not

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THE FATAL FORGET-ME-NOT
THREE miles out from the Nahant shore, Massachusetts, rises Egg Rock, a dome of granite topped by a light-house. In the last century the forget-me-nots that grew in a little marsh at its summit were much esteemed, for it was reported that if a girl should receive one of these little flowers from her lover the two would be faithful to each other through all their married life. It was before a temporary separation that a certain young couple strolled together on the Nahant cliffs. The man was to sail for Italy next day, to urge parental consent to their union. As he looked dreamily into the sea the legend of the forget-me-not came into his mind, and in a playful tone he offered to gather a bunch as a memento. Unthinkingly the girl consented. He ran down the cliff to his boat, pushed out, and headed toward the rock, but a fisherman shouted that a gale was rising and the tide was coming in; indeed, the horizon was whitening and the rote was growing plain.
Alice had heard the cry of warning and would have called him back, but she was forsaken by the power of speech, and watched, with pale face and straining eyes, the boat beating smartly across the surges. It was seen to reach Egg Rock, and after a lapse came dancing toward the shore again; but the tide was now swirling in rapidly, the waves were running high, and the wind freshened as the sun ​sank. At times the boat was out of sight in the hollowed water, and as it neared Nahant it became unmanageable. Apparently it had filled with water and the tiller-rope had broken. Nothing could be done by the spectators who had gathered on the rocks, except to shout directions that were futile, even if they could be heard. At last the boat was lifted by a breaker and hurled against a mass of granite at the very feet of the man's mistress. When the body was recovered next day, a bunch of forget-me-not was clasped in the rigid hand.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Old Mill at Somerville

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THE OLD MILL AT SOMERVILLE
THE "old powder-house," as the round stone tower is on a gravel ridge in Somerville, Massachusetts, is so named because at the outbreak of the Revolutionary War it was used temporarily as a magazine; but long before that it was a wind-mill. Here in the old days two lovers held their tryst: a sturdy and honest young farmer of the neighborhood and the daughter of a man whose wealth puffed him with purse-pride. It was the plebeian state of the farmer that made him look at him with an unfavorable countenance, and when it was whispered to him that the young people were meeting each other almost every evening at the mill, he resolved to surprise them there and humiliate, if he did not punish them. From the shadow of the door they saw his approach, and, yielding to the ​girl's imploring, the lover secreted himself while she climbed to the loft. The flutter of her dress caught the old man's eye and he hastened, panting, into the mill. For some moments he groped about, for his eyes had not grown used to the darkness of the place, and hearing his muttered oaths, the girl crept backward from the stair.
She was beginning to hope that she had not been seen, when her foot caught in a loose board and she stumbled, but in her fall she threw out her hand to save herself and found a rope within her grasp. Directly that her weight had been applied to it there was a whir and a clank. The cord had set the great fans in motion. At the same moment a fall was heard, then a cry, passing from anger into anguish. She rushed down the stair, the lover appeared from his hiding-place at the same moment, and together they dragged the old man to his feet. At the moment when the wind had started the sails he had been standing on one of the mill-stones and the sudden jerk had thrown him down. His arm caught between the grinding surfaces and had been crushed to pulp. He was carried home and tenderly nursed, but he did not live long; yet before he died he was made to see the folly of his course, and he consented to the marriage that it had cost him so dear to try to prevent. Before she could summon heart to fix the wedding-day the girl passed many months of grief and repentance, and for the rest of her life she avoided the old mill. There ​was good reason for doing so, people said, for on windy nights the spirit of the old man used to haunt the place, using such profanity that it became visible in the form of blue lights, dancing and exploding about the building.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/Edward Randolph's Portrait

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EDWARD RANDOLPH'S PORTRAIT
NOTHING is left of Province House, the old home of the royal governors, in Boston, but the gilded Indian that served as its weather-cock and aimed his arrow at the winds from the cupola. The house itself was swept away long ago in the so-called march of improvement. In one of its rooms hung a picture so dark that when Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson went to live there hardly anybody could say what it represented. There were hints that it was a portrait of the devil, painted at a witch-meeting near Salem, and that on the eve of disasters in the province a dreadful face had glared from the canvas. Shirley had seen it on the night of the fall of Ticonderoga, and servants had gone shuddering from the room, certain that they had caught the glance of a malignant eye. It was known to the governors, however, that the portrait, if not that of the arch fiend, was that of one who in the popular mind was none the less a devil: Edward Randolph, the traitor, who had repealed the first provincial charter and deprived the ​colonists of their liberties. Under the curse of the people he grew pale and pinched and ugly, his face at last becoming so hateful that men were unwilling to look at it. Then it was that he sat for his portrait. Threescore or odd years afterward, Hutchinson sat in the hall wondering vaguely if coming events would consign him to the obloquy that had fallen on his predecessor, for at his bidding a fleet had come into the harbor with three regiments of red coats on board, despatched from Halifax to over-awe the city. The coming of the selectmen to protest against quartering these troops on the people and the substitution of martial for civic law, interrupted his reverie, and a warm debate arose. At last the governor seized his pen impatiently, and cried, "The king is my master and England is my home. Upheld by them, I defy the rabble."
He was about to sign the order for bringing in the troops when a curtain that had hung before the picture was drawn aside. Hutchinson stared at the canvas in amazement, then mattered, "It is Randolph's spirit! It wears the look of hell." The picture was seen to be that of a man in antique garb, with a despairing, hunted, yet evil expression in the face, and seemed to stare at Hutchinson.
"It is a warning," said one of the company.
Hutchinson recovered himself with an effort and turned away. "It is a trick," he cried; and bending over the paper he fixed his name, as if in desperate haste. Then he trembled, turned white, and ​wiped a sweat from his brow. The selectmen de parted in silence hut in anger, and those who saw Hutchinson on the streets next day affirmed that the portrait had stepped out of its canvas and stood at his side through the night. Afterward, as he lay on his death-bed, he cried that the blood of the Boston massacre was filling his throat, and as his soul passed from him his face, in its agony and rage, was the face of Edward Randolph.
# The History of Polk County, Iowa/Hahnen, J. F.

* related portals: Jacob Frederick Hahnen.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Jacob Frederick Hahnen (1838-1892) biography in The History of Polk County, Iowa.
Hahnen, J. F. was born in Wurtemberg, Germany, August 5, 1838, and in 1854 emigrated to this country with his mother, settling near Lafayette, Indiana. Three years later he came to this State, and crossed the Des Moines river on a pontoon bridge in the fall of 1857, and since that time he has resided here. On the 1st of September, 1861, he enlisted in the Second cavalry, then in the State service, and served until the time he enlisted in the United States service, March 8, 1864, in company D, Second Iowa cavalry. Was mustered out at Selma, Alabama, September 19, 1865. Was commissioned corporal and acting sergeant. He participated in about forty-five battles, among which were New Madrid, Island No. 10, Iuka, Corinth, Okalona, West Point (where he was wounded) and Grenada, besides many important and severe engagements. He always followed farming as his occupation until after the war, when he engaged in his, present business, that of a saloon proprietor. Has been a member of the police force of this city. He was married in 1866, to Miss Caroline Zelle, a native of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. They have six sons and one daughter: Louis H., Jacob F., George F., Carl A., Willie, Arthur and Caroline Augusta.
# The Indianapolis Star/1976/Carl Schneider Dies

* related portals: Carl Henry Schneider.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Carl Henry Schneider (1899-1976) in The Indianapolis Star on March 25, 1976. Carl Henry Schneider served as a pilot in WWI but his name does not appear in any of the lists of recognized WWI aces.
Carl Schneider Dies; Was German Flying Ace in WWI.
De Soto, Kansas (Associated Press) Carl H. Schneider, a German World War I flying ace who was credited with shooting down 17 planes as part of the legendary Red Baron's Flying Circus squadron, is dead at age 77. Schneider died Monday at a nursing home in this Kansas City suburb. He worked in an aircraft manufacturing plant in Frankfurt, Germany, before he became a pilot and downed 17 British and French planes. He emigrated to the United States in 1922. He worked for various aircraft manufacturers in the United States, was commissioned by the government Dies; Was Ace In WWI to instruct members of the Chinese air force for Chiang Kai-shek and later became a government aeronautics investigator. "Of course you had to have guts, and in those days I had plenty," Schneider once said of his combat exploits. He described Baron Manfred von Richthofen, better known as the Red Baron, as "a hunter, I saw him fighting five planes at one time." A funeral home spokesman said Schneider apparently had no survivors. Funeral services were delayed pending the return of Schneider's attorney from a trip.
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) between 1929 and 1977 (inclusive) without a copyright notice.
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