OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Auld farmer's salutation to his auld mare Maggy, on giving her a ripp of corn, to Hansel in the New Year/Address to a Scotch Haggis on New-Year's-Day

ADDRESS
to a
Scotch Haggis
on
NEW - YEAR's DAY.
FAIR fa' your honest, sonsie face. Great chieftain o' the puddin-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o‘ a grace, As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill Your pin wad help to mend a mill, In time o' need, While thro your pores the dews distil, Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic labour dight, An' cut ye up wi‘ ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious light, Warm-reekin, rich!
Then horn for horn they stretch an' strive, That nane be hindmost, on they drive, Till a' heir weel-swall'd kyts belyve, Are bent like drums; ​Then auld guideman, maist like to rive, Bethankit hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout, Or olio that would staw a sow, Or fricassee wad mak her spew, Wi' perfect sconner, Looks down wi- sneerin scornfu view, On sic a dinner!
Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckless as a wither'd rash, His spindle-shank a guid whiplash, His nieve a nit; Thro' bluiddy flood or field to dash, O how unfit !
But mark the rustic haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his walie nieve a bled, He'll mak' it whissle, An' legs, an' arms' an' heads will sned, Like taps o‘ thrissle.
Ye Pow'rs wha mak' mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o‘ fare, Auld Scotland wants nae stinkin ware, That jups in luggies; But if ye wish her gratefu' pray'r. Gie her a Haggis!
FINIS.
# The First Six Books of the Elements of Euclid in which coloured diagrams and symbols are used instead of letters for the greater ease of learners/BOOK I/PROP. XXII. THEOR.

​IVEN three right lines the sum of any two greater than the third, to construct a triangle whose sides shall be respectively equal to the given lines.
Assume = (pr. 3.).
Draw = (pr. 2.),
and = (pr. 2.).
With and as radii,
describe and (post. 3.);
draw and ,
then will be the triangle required.
For = ,
= = (const.),
and = = (const.).
Q.E.D.
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 First Six Books of the Elements of Euclid in which coloured diagrams and symbols are used instead of letters for the greater ease of learners/BOOK I/PROP. XXIII. PROB.

​T a given point in a given straight line, to make an angle equal to a given rectilineal angle.
Draw between any two points in the legs of the given angle.
Construct (pr. 22.).
so that = , = and .
Then = (pr. 8.).
Q.E.D.
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 First Six Books of the Elements of Euclid in which coloured diagrams and symbols are used instead of letters for the greater ease of learners/BOOK I/PROP. XXIV. THEOR.

​F two triangles have two sides of the one respectively equal to two sides of the other ( to and to ), and if one of the angles contained by the equal sides be greater than the other, the side which is opposite to the greater angle is greater than the side which is opposite to the less angle.
Make = (pr. 23.),
and = (pr. 3.),
draw and .
Because = (ax. I. hyp. const.)
∴ = (pr. 5.)
but <
and ∴ < ,
∴ > (pr. 19.)
but = (pr. 4.)
Q. E. D.
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 First Six Books of the Elements of Euclid in which coloured diagrams and symbols are used instead of letters for the greater ease of learners/BOOK I/PROP. XXV. THEOR.

​F two triangles have two sides ( and ) of the one respectively equal to two sides ( and ) of the other, but their bases unequal, the angle subtended by the greater base of the one, must be greater than the angle subtended by the less base of the other.
=, > or <
is not equal to
for if = then = (pr. 4.)
which is contrary to the hypothesis;
is not less than
for if <
then < (pr. 24.),
which is also contrary to the hypothesis:
Q. E. D.
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 Atlantic Monthly/Volume 2/Number 5

Second volume, fifth number of The Atlantic Monthly. Published October 1858.

### Articles and stories

* The New World and the New Man, by David Atwood Wasson
* Her Grace, the Drummer's Daughter, by Charlotte Forten Grimké
* The German Popular Legend of Doctor Faustus, by Therese Albertine Luise Robinson
* Miss Wimple's Hoop, by John Williamson Palmer
* The Language of the Sea, by Walter Mitchell
* The Whirligig of Time, by Francis Henry Underwood
* The Birds of the Garden and Orchard, by Wilson Flagg
* The Old Well
* The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table (Part 12 of 12), by Oliver Wendell Holmes
* The Professor Under Chloroform
* Literary Notices
* The Dot and Line Alphabet, by Edward Everett Hale

### Poems

* "The Poet Keats", by Mary Fraser Curtis
* "Waldeinsamkeit", by Ralph Waldo Emerson
* "The Cup", by John Townsend Trowbridge
* "The Telegraph", by John Greenleaf Whittier
* "The Dead House", by James Russell Lowell
# Work-a-day Warriors/The Haggis

THE HAGGIS
​Now quick the Cook arrays it, And in the Piper plays it; Ye never heard siccan a din, The billet roof comes tumblin' in. (I dinna ken wha pays it That's quite anither story.) Dan gi'es us "Scotland's Glory"; His ruddy cheeks are outward blawn, His neb is cocked, his neck is thrawn, He blaws until his bag is As big's our muckle Haggis!
# Treason Act

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Treason Act."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* Treason Act 1351 (25 Edw. 3. Stat. 5 c. 2), an Act of Parliament of England that provided for the definition of high treason.
* Treason Act 1495 (11 Hen. 7. c. 1), an Act of Parliament of England that declared that a person does not commit high treason by serving under a de facto monarch during a civil war.
* Act 1 Anne Stat. 2 (commonly known as the Treason Act 1702), an Act of Parliament of England that made depriving or hindering the Protestant line of succession as high treason.
* Treason Act 1814 (54 Geo. 3 c. 146), an Act of Parliament of the United Kingdom that changed the punishment of high treason to hanging, which is later amended to life imprisonment.
* Treason Act 1842 (5 & 6 Vict. c. 51), an Act of Parliament of the United Kingdom that removed the special rules for treason prosecution that involve assaulting the monarch. Also created the offence of assaulting the monarch.
* Treason Act 1945 (8 & 9 Geo. 6. c. 44), an Act of Parliament of the United Kingdom that specified that the criminal procedure for treason is the one used for murder. Repealed by Criminal Law Act 1967.

## See also

* Treachery Act
* Treason Felony Act 1848 (11 & 12 Vict. c. 12), an Act of Parliament of the United Kingdom that created a duplicate offence of treason felony punishable by life imprisonment.
# The Atlantic Monthly/Volume 1/Number 5/Beauty

Beauty
Fond lover of the Ideal Fair,  My soul, eluded everywhere,  Is lapsed into a sweet despair.  Perpetual pilgrim, seeking ever,  Baffled, enamored, finding never;  Each morn the cheerful chase renewing,  Misled, bewildered, still pursuing;  Not all my lavished years have bought  One steadfast smile from her I sought,  But sidelong glances, glimpsing light,  A something far too fine for sight,  Veiled voices, far off thridding strains,  And precious agonies and pains:  Not love, but only love's dear wound  And exquisite unrest I found.
 At early morn I saw her pass  The lone lake's blurred and quivering glass;  Her trailing veil of amber mist  The unbending beaded clover kissed;  And straight I hasted to waylay  Her coming by the willowy way;--  But, swift companion of the Dawn,  She left her footprints on the lawn,  And, in arriving, she was gone.  Alert I ranged the winding shore;  Her luminous presence flashed before;  The wild-rose and the daisies wet  From her light touch were trembling yet;  Faint smiled the conscious violet;  Each bush and brier and rock betrayed  Some tender sign her parting made;  And when far on her flight I tracked  To where the thunderous cataract  O'er walls of foamy ledges broke,  She vanished in the vapory smoke.
 To-night I pace this pallid floor,  The sparkling waves curl up the shore,  The August moon is flushed and full;  The soft, low winds, the liquid lull,  The whited, silent, misty realm,  The wan-blue heaven, each ghostly elm,  All these, her ministers, conspire  To fill my bosom with the fire  And sweet delirium of desire.  Enchantress! leave thy sheeny height,  Descend, be all mine own this night,  Transfuse, enfold, entrance me quite!  Or break thy spell, my heart restore,  And disenchant me evermore!
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 Atlantic Monthly/Volume 15/Number 89

March 1865
THE
ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics.
VOL. XV.—MARCH, 1865.—NO. LXXXIX.
* The Story of a Year
* The Frozen Harbor
* At Andersonville
* Doctor Johns
* Ancient Mining on the Shores of Lake Superior
* To a Poet on his Birthday
* Needle and Garden
* Memories of Authors
* Our Oldest Friend
* Edward Everett
* Notes of a Pianist
* The Chimney-Corner
* The Popular Lecture
* The Hour of Victory
* The Causes of Foreign Enmity to the United States
* Reviews and Literary Notices
* Recent American Publications
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by Ticknor and Fields, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/Miss Britton's Poker

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MISS BRITTON'S POKER
THE maids of Staten Island wrought havoc among the royal troops who were quartered among them during the Revolution. Near quarantine, in an old house,—the Austen mansion,—a soldier of King George hanged himself because a Yankee maid who lived there would not have him for a husband, nor any gentleman whose coat was of his color; and, until ghosts went out of fashion, his ​spirit, in somewhat heavy hoots, with jingling spurs, often disturbed the nightly quiet of the place.
The conduct of a damsel in the old town of Richmond was even more stern. She was the granddaughter, and a pretty one, of a farmer named Britton; but though Britton by descent and name, she was no friend of Britons, albeit she might have had half the officers in the neighboring camp at her feet, if she had wished them there. Once, while mulling a cup of cider for her grandfather, she was interrupted by a self-invited myrmidon, who undertook, in a fashion rude and unexpected, to show the love in which he held her. Before he could kiss her, the girl drew the hot poker from the mug of drink and jabbed at the vitals of her amorous foe, burning a hole through his scarlet uniform and printing on his burly person a lasting memento of the adventure, With a howl of pain the fellow rushed away, and the privacy of the Britton family was never again invaded, at least whilst cider was being mulled.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Devil's Stepping-Stones

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THE DEVIL'S STEPPING-STONES
WHEN the devil set a claim to the fair lands at the north of Long Island Sound, his claim was disputed by the Indians, who prepared to fight for their homes should he attempt to serve his writ of ejectment. Parley resulted in nothing, so the bad one tried force, but he was routed in ​open fight and found it desirable to get away from the scene of action as soon as possible. He retreated across the Sound near the head of East River. The tide was out, so he stepped from island to island, without trouble, and those reefs and islands are to this day the Devil's Stepping-Stones. On reaching Throgg's Neck he sat down in a despairing attitude and brooded on his defeat, until, roused to a frenzy at the thought of it, he resolved to renew the war on terms advantageous entirely to himself. In that day Connecticut was free from rocks, but Long Island was covered with them; so he gathered all he could lay his hands on and tossed them at the Indians that he could see across the Sound near Cold Spring until the supply had given out. The red men who last inhabited Connecticut used to show white men where the missiles landed and where the devil struck his heel into the ground as he sprang from the shore in his haste to reach Long Island. At Cold Spring other footprints and one of his toes are shown. Establishing himself at Coram, he troubled the people of the country for many years, so that between the devil on the west and the Montauks on the east they were plagued indeed; for though their guard at Watch Hill, Rhode Island, and other places often apprised them of the coming of the Montauks, they never knew which way to look for the devil.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Springs of Blood and Water

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THE SPRINGS OF BLOOD AND WATER
A GREAT drought had fallen on Long Island, and the red men prayed for water. It is true that they could get it at Lake Ronkonkoma, but some of them were many miles from there, and, beside, they feared the spirits at that place the girl who plied its waters in a phosphor-shining birch, seeking her recreant lover; and the powerful guardians that the Great Spirit had put in charge to keep the fish from being caught, for these fish were the souls of men, awaiting deliverance into another form. The people gathered about their villages in bands and besought the Great Spirit to give them drink. His voice was heard at last, bidding their chief to shoot an arrow into the air and to watch where it fell, for there would water gush out. The chief obeyed the deity, and as the arrow touched the earth a spring of sweet water spouted into the air. Running forward with glad cries the red men drank eagerly of the liquor, laved their faces in it, and were made strong again; and in memory of that event they called the place the Hill of God, or Manitou Hill, and Manet or Manetta Hill it is to this day. Hereabouts the Indians settled and lived in peace, thriving under the smile of their deity, making wampum for the inland tribes and waxing rich with gains from it. They made the canal from bay to sea at Canoe Place, that they might reach open water without dragging their boats across the
​sand-bars, and in other ways they proved themselves ingenious and strong.
When the English landed on the island they saw that the Indians were not a people to be trifled with, and in order to properly impress them with their superiority, they told them that John Bull desired a treaty with them. The officers got them to sit in line in front of a cannon, the nature of which instrument was unknown to them, and during the talk the gun was fired, mowing down so many of the red people that the survivors took to flight, leaving the English masters at the north shore, for this heartless and needless massacre took place at Whale's Neck. So angry was the Great Spirit at this act of cruelty and treachery that he caused blood to ooze from the soil, as he had made water leap for his thirsting children, and never again would grass grow on the spot where the murder had been done.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Crumbling Silver

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THE CRUMBLING SILVER
THERE is a clay bank on Little Neck, Long Island, where metallic nodules are now and then exposed by rain. Rustics declare them to be silver, and account for their crumbling on the theory that the metal is under a curse. A century ago the Montauks mined it, digging over enough soil to unearth these pellets now and again, and exchanging them at the nearest settlements for tobacco and rum. The seeming abundance of these lumps ​of silver aroused the cupidity of one Gardiner, a dweller in the central wilderness of the island, but none of the Indians would reveal the source of their treasure. One day Gardiner succeeded in getting an old chief so tipsy that, without realizing what he was doing, he led the white man to the clay bed and showed him the metallic spots glittering in the sun. With a cry of delight Gardiner sprang forward and tore at the earth with his fingers, while the Indian stood by laughing at his eagerness.
Presently a shade crosssed the white man's face, for he thought that this vast treasure would have to be shared by others. It was too much to endure. He wanted all. He would be the richest man on earth. Stealing behind the Indian as he stood swaying and chuckling, he wrenched the hatchet from his belt and clove his skull at a blow. Then, dragging the body to a thicket and hiding it under stones and leaves, he hurried to his house for cart and pick and shovel, and returning with speed he dug out a half ton of the silver before sunset. The cart was loaded, and he set homeward, trembling with excitement and conjuring bright visions for his future, when a wailing sound from a thicket made him halt and turn pale. Noiselessly a figure glided from the bush. It was the Indian he had killed. The form approached the treasure, flung up its arm, uttered a few guttural words; then a rising wind seemed to lift it from the ground and it drifted toward the Sound, fading like a cloud as it receded.
​Full of misgiving, Gardiner drove to his home, and, by light of a lantern, transferred his treasure to his cellar. Was it the dulness of the candle that made the metal look so black? After a night of feverish tossing on his bed he arose and went to the cellar to gloat upon his wealth. The light of dawn fell on a heap of gray dust, a few brassy looking particles showing here and there. The curse of the ghost had been of power and the silver was silver no more. Mineralogists say that the nodules are iron pyrites. Perhaps so; but old residents know that they used to be silver.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Corteyou Elopement

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THE CORTELYOU ELOPEMENT
IN the Bath district of Brooklyn stands Cortelyou manor, built one hundred and fifty years ago, and a place of defence during the Revolution when the British made sallies from their camp in Flatbush and worried the neighborhood. It was in one of these forays on pigs and chickens that a gallant officer of red-coats met a pretty lass in the fields of Cortelyou. He stilled her alarm by aiding her to gather wild-flowers, and it came about that the girl often went into the fields and came back with prodigious bouquets of daisies. The elder Cortelyou had no inkling of this adventure until one of his sons saw her tryst with the red-coat at a distance. Be sure the whole family joined him in remonstrance. As the girl declared that she would not forego the ​meetings with her lover, the father swore that she should never leave his roof again, and he tried to be as good, or bad, as his word. The damsel took her imprisonment as any girl of spirit would, but was unable to effect her escape until one evening, as she sat at her window, watching the moon go down and paint the harbor with a path of light. A tap at the pane, as of a pebble thrown against it, roused her from her revery. It was her lover on the lawn.
At her eager signal he ran forward with a light ladder, planted it against the window-sill, and in less than a minute the twain were running toward the beach; but the creak of the ladder had been heard, and grasping their muskets two of the men hurried out. In the track of the moon the pursuers descried a moving form, and, without waiting to challenge, they levelled the guns and fired. A woman's cry followed the report; then a dip of oars was heard that fast grew fainter until it faded from hearing. On returning to the house they found the girl's room empty, and next morning her slipper was brought in from the mud at the landing. Nobody inside of the American lines ever learned what that shot had done, but if it failed to take a life it robbed Cortelyou of his mind. He spent the rest of his days in a single room, chained to a staple in the floor, tramping around and around, muttering and gesturing, and sometimes startling the passer-by as he showed his white face and ragged beard at the window.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Weary Watcher

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THE WEARY WATCHER
BEFORE the opening of the great bridge sent commerce rattling up Washington Street in Brooklyn that thoroughfare was a shaded and beautiful avenue, and among the houses that attested its respectability was one, between Tillary and Concord Streets, that was long declared to be haunted. A man and his wife dwelt there who seemed to be fondly attached to each other, and whose love should have been the stronger because of their three children none grew to years. A mutual sorrow is as close a tie as a common affection. One day, while on a visit to a friend, the wife saw her husband drive by in a carriage with a showy woman beside him. She went home at once, and when the supposed recreant returned she met him with bitter reproaches. He answered never a word, but took his hat and left the house, never to be seen again in the places that had known him.
The wife watched and waited, daily looking for his return, but days lengthened into weeks, months, years, and still he came not. Sometimes she lamented that she had spoken hastily and harshly, thinking that, had she known all, she might have found him blameless. There was no family to look after, no wholesome occupation that she sought, so the days went by in listening and watching, until, at last, her body and mind gave way, and the familiar sight of her face, watching from a second floor ​window, was seen no longer. Her last day came. She had risen from her bed; life and mind seemed for a moment to be restored to her; and standing where she had stood so often, her form supported by a half-closed shutter and a grasp on the sash, she looked into the street once more, sighed hopelessly, and so died. It was her shade that long watched at the windows; it was her waxen face, heavy with fatigue and pain, that was dimly seen looking over the balusters in the evening.