OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# United States v. Lei Shi

* related portals: United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit
* sister projects: Wikipedia article
United States v. Shi, 525 F.3d 709 (9th Cir. 2008), is a case involving piracy on the high seas. The case held that United States could try foreign nationals on foreign-flagged vessels for crimes committed on the high seas, outside the territory of the United States.
* Court Documents
* Opinion of the Court
* 525 F.3d 709
* UNITED STATES of America, Plaintiff-Appellee
* v.
* Lei SHI, Defendant-Appellant
* No. 06-10389
* United States Court of Appeals, Ninth Circuit.
* Argued and Submitted November 6, 2007
* Filed April 24, 2008
DeAnna S. Dotson, Esq., Kapolei, Hawaii, argued the cause for the defendant-appellant and filed briefs.
Marshall H. Silverberg, Assistant United States Attorney, Honolulu, Hawaii, argued the cause for the plaintiff-appellee; Thomas J. Brady, Assistant United States Attorney, Honolulu, Hawaii, filed a brief for the plaintiff-appellee; Edward H. Kubo, Jr., United States Attorney, District of Hawaii, Honolulu, Hawaii, was on the brief.
Before: DIARMUID F. O'SCANNLAIN, A. WALLACE TASHIMA, and MILAN D. SMITH, Jr., Circuit Judges.
# Poems of the Orient (Taylor, 1855)/Bedouin Song

BEDOUIN SONG.
# Poems of the Orient

POEMS
OF
THE ORIENT.
BY
BAYARD TAYLOR.
THIRD EDITION.
BOSTON:
TICKNOR AND FIELDS.
M DCCC LV.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by Bayard Taylor, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
STEREOTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.
CONTENTS
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
# Evelina, or: a Young Lady's Entrance into the World/Volume 2

EVELINA,
OR, A
YOUNG LADY'S
ENTRANCE
INTO THE
WORLD.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
Printed for T. Lowndes, N$^o$ 77, in Fleet-Street.
M.DCC.LXXVIII.
* Letter I: Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars, Howard Grove, Kent, May 10.
* Letter II: Evelina in Continuation, May 13.

## Contents

* Letter XXXIV: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION
* Letter XXXV: SIR JOHN BELMONT TO LADY HOWARD Paris, May 11.
* Letter XXXVI: EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Howard Grove, May 18.
* Letter XXXVII: MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA Berry Hill, May 21.
* Letter XXXVIII: MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD Berry Hill, May 27.
* Letter XXXIX: MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA Berry Hill, May 28.
* Letter XL: EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS London, June 6.
* Letter XLI: EVELINA TO MISS MIRVAN June 7th
* Letter XLII: EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Holborn, June 9.
* Letter XLIII: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION
* Letter XLIV: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION Holborn, June 13th.
* Letter XLV: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION June 15th.
* Letter XLVI: EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Holborn, June 17th.
* Letter XLVII: EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS. Holborn, June 18th.
* Letter XLVIII: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. June 21st.
* Letter XLIX: MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA. Berry Hill.
* Letter L: EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS. Holborn, June 27th.
* Letter LI: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION.
* Letter LII: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. Holborn, July 1.-5 o'clock in the morning.
* Letter LIII: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. Holborn, July 1st.
* Letter LIV: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. July 3rd.
* Letter LV: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. July 4th.
* Letter LVI: MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA. Berry Hill, July 7th.
* Letter LVII: EVELINA TO MISS MIRVAN. Berry Hill, July 14th.
* Letter LVIII: EVELINA TO MISS MIRVAN. Berry Hill, July 21st.
* Letter LIX: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. Berry Hill, July 29th.
* Letter LX: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. Berry Hill, August 10th.
* Letter LXI: EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. Bristol Hotwells, August 28th.
# The King of Elfland's Daughter

[By S. H. Sime]
THE HUNTING OF THE UNICORN
The King of Elfland’s Daughter
By Lord Dunsany
G.P. Putnam’s Sons New York & London The Knickerbocker Press 1924
Copyright, 1924 by Lord Dunsany
Made in the United States of America
TO LADY DUNSANY
PREFACE
I hope that no suggestion of any strange land that may be conveyed by the title will scare readers away from this book; for, though some chapters do indeed tell of Elfland, in the greater part of them there is no more to be shown than the face of the fields we know, and ordinary English woods and a common village and valley, a good twenty or twenty-five miles from the border of Elfland.
CONTENTS
The King of Elfland’s Daughter
By LORD DUNSANY
* The Gods of Pegana
* Time and the Gods
* The Sword of Welleran
* A Dreamer’s Tales
* The Book of Wonder
* Five Plays
* Fifty-one Tales
* Tales of Wonder
* Plays of Gods and Men
* Tales of War
* Unhappy Far-off Things
* Tales of Three Hemispheres
* The Chronicles of Rodriguez
* If
* Plays of Near and Far
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 1957, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 66 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 2/Spooks of the Hiawassee

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SPOOKS OF THE HIAWASSEE
THE hills about the head of the Hiawassee are filled with "harnts," among them many animal ghosts, that ravage about the country from sheer viciousness. The people of the region, illiterate and superstitious, have unquestioning faith in them. They tell you about the headless bull and black dog of the valley of the Chatata, the white stag of the Sequahatchie, and the bleeding horse of the Great Smoky Mountains—the last three being portents of illness, death, or misfortune to those who see them.
Other ghosts are those of men. Near the upper Hiawassee is a cave where a pile of human skulls was found by a man who had put up his cabin near the entrance. For some reason, which he says he never understood, this farmer gathered up the old, bleached bones and dumped them into his shed. Quite possibly he did not dare to confess that he wanted them for fertilizers or to burn them for his poultry.
Night fell dark and still, with a waning moon rising over the mountains—as calm a night as ever one slept through. Along toward the middle of it a sound like the coming of a cyclone brought the farmer out of his bed. He ran to the window to see if the house were to be uprooted, but the forest was still, with a strange, oppressive stillness—not a twig moving, not a cloud veiling the stars, not an insect chirping. Filled with a vague fear, he tried ​to waken his wife, but she was like one in a state of catalepsy.
Again the sound was heard, and now he saw, without, a shadowy band circling about his house like leaves whirled on the wind. It seemed to be made of human shapes, with tossing arms—this circling band—and the sound was that of many voices, each faint and hollow, by itself, but loud in aggregate. He who was watching realized then that the wraiths of the dead whose skulls he had purloined from their place of sepulture were out in lament and protest. He went on his knees at once and prayed with vigor until morning. As soon as it was light enough to see his way he replaced the skulls, and was not troubled by the "haunts" again. All the gold in America, said he, would not tempt him to remove any more bones from the cave-tombs of the unknown dead.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 2/Lake of the Dismal Swamp

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LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP
DRUMMOND'S POND, or the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, is a dark and lonely tarn that lies in the centre of this noted Virginia morass. It is, in a century-old tradition, the Styx of two unhappy ghosts that await the end of time to pass its confines and enjoy the sunshine of serener worlds. A young woman of a family that had settled near this marsh died of a fever caused by its malarial exhalations, and was buried near the swamp. The ​young man to whom she was betrothed felt her loss so keenly that for days he neither ate nor slept, and at last broke down in mind and body. He recovered a measure of physical health, after a time, but his reason was hopelessly lost.
It was his hallucination that the girl was not dead, but had been exiled to the lonely reaches of this watery wilderness. He was heard to mutter, "I'll find her, and when Death comes I'll hide her in the hollow of a cypress until he passes on." Evading restraint, he plunged into the fen, and for some days he wandered there, eating berries, sleeping on tussocks of grass, with water-snakes crawling over him and poisonous plants shedding their baneful dew on his flesh. He came to the lake at last. A will-o'-the-wisp played along the surface. "'Tis she!" he cried. "I see her, standing in the light." Hastily fashioning a raft of cypress boughs he floated it and pushed toward the centre of the pond, but the eagerness of his efforts and the rising of a wind dismembered the frail platform, and he fell into the black water to rise no more. But often, in the night, is seen the wraith of a canoe, with a fire-fly lamp burning on its prow, restlessly urged to and fro by two figures that seem to be vainly searching for an exit from the place, and that are believed to be those of the maiden and her lover.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 2/The Barge of Defeat

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THE BARGE OF DEFEAT
RAPPAHANNOCK RIVER, in Virginia, used to be vexed with shadowy craft that some of the populace affirmed to be no boats, but spirits in disguise. One of these apparitions was held in fear by the Democracy of Essex County, as it was believed to be a forerunner of Republican victory. The first recorded appearance of the vessel was shortly after the Civil War, on the night of a Democratic mass-meeting at Tappahannock. There were music, refreshments, and jollity, and it was in the middle of arousing speech that a man in the crowd cried, "Look, fellows! What is that queer concern going down the river?"
The people moved to the shore, and by the light of their torches a hulk was seen drifting with the stream—a hulk of fantastic form unlike anything that sails there in the daytime. As it came opposite the throng, the torchlight showed gigantic negroes who danced on deck, showing horrible faces to the multitude. Not a sound came from the barge, the halloos of the spectators bringing no response, and some boatmen ventured into the stream, only to pull back in a hurry, for the craft had become so strangely enveloped in shadow that it seemed to melt into air.
Next day the Democracy was defeated at the polls, chiefly by the negro vote. In 1880 it reappeared, and, as before, the Republicans gained the day. Just before the election of 1886, Mr. Croxton, ​Democratic nominee for Congress, was haranguing the people, when the cry of "The Black Barge!" arose. Argument and derision were alike ineffectual with the populace. The meeting broke up in silence and gloom, and Mr. Croxton was defeated by a majority of two thousand.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 2/Natural Bridge

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NATURAL BRIDGE
THOUGH several natural bridges are known in this country, there is but one that is famous the world over, and that is the one which spans Clear Creek, Virginia—the remnant of a cave-roof, all the rest of the cavern having collapsed. It is two hundred and fifteen feet above the water, and is a solid mass of rock forty feet thick, one hundred feet wide, and ninety feet in span. Thomas Jefferson owned it; George Washington scaled its side and carved his name on the rock a foot higher than any one else. Here, too, came the youth who wanted to cut his name above Washington's, and who found, to his horror, when half-way up, that he must keep on, for he had left no resting-places for his feet at safe and reachable distances—who, therefore, climbed on and on, cutting handhold and foothold in the limestone until he reached the top, in a fainting state, his knife-blade worn to a stump. Here, too, in another tunnel of the cavern, flows Lost River, that all must return to, at some time, if they drink of it. Here, beneath the arch, is the dark stain, so like a flying ​eagle that the French officer who saw it during the Revolution augured from it a success for the united arms of the nations that used the eagle as their symbol.
The Mohegans knew this wonder of natural masonry, for to this point they were pursued by a hostile tribe, and on reaching the gulf found themselves on the edge of a precipice that was too steep at that point to descend. Behind them was the foe; before them, the chasm. At the suggestion of one of their medicine-men they joined in a prayer to the Great Spirit for deliverance, and when again they looked about them, there stood the bridge. Their women were hurried over; then, like so many Horatii, they formed across this dizzy highway and gave battle. Encouraged by the knowledge that they had a safe retreat in case of being overmastered, they fought with such heart that the enemy was defeated, and the grateful Mohegans named the place the Bridge of God
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 2/Siren of the French Broad

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SIREN OF THE FRENCH BROAD
AMONG the rocks east of Asheville, North Carolina, lives the Lorelei of the French Broad River. This stream—the Tselica of the Indians—contains in its upper reaches many pools where the rapid water whirls and deepens, and where the traveller likes to pause in the heats of afternoon and drink and bathe. Here, from the time when the Cherokees occupied the country, has lived the siren, and if one who is weary and downcast sits beside the stream or utters a wish to rest in it, he becomes conscious of a soft and exquisite music blending with the plash of the wave. Looking down in surprise he sees—at first faintly, then with distinctness—the form of a beautiful woman, with hair streaming like moss and dark eyes looking into his, luring him with a power he cannot resist. His breath grows short, his gaze is fixed, mechanically he rises, steps to the brink, and lurches forward into the river. The arms that catch him are slimy and cold as serpents; the face that stares ​into his is a grinning skull. A loud, chattering laugh rings through the wilderness, and all is still again.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 2/The Hunter of Calawasee

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THE HUNTER OF CALAWASSEE
THROUGH brisk November days young Kedar and his trusty slave, Lauto, hunted along the Calawassee, with hope to get a shot at a buck—a buck that wore a single horn and that eluded them with easy, baffling gait whenever they met it in the fens. Kedar was piqued at this. He drained a deep draught and buttoned his coat with an air of resolution. "Now, by my soul," quoth he, "I'll have that buck to-day or die myself!" Then he laughed at the old slave, who begged him to unsay the oath, for there was something unusual about that animal—as it ran it left no tracks, and it passed through the densest wood without halting at trees or undergrowth. "Bah!" retorted the huntsman. "Have up the dogs. If that buck is the fiend himself, I'll have him before the day is out!" The twain were quickly in their saddles, and they had not been long in the wood before the one-horned buck was seen ahead, trotting with easy pace, yet with marvellous swiftness.
Kedar, who was in advance, whipped up his horse and followed the deer into a cypress grove near the Chechesee, As the game halted at a pool he fired. The report sounded dead in the dense wood, and the deer turned calmly, watched his pursuer until he ​was close at hand, then trotted away again. All day long he held the chase. The dogs were nowhere within sound, and he galloped through the forest, shouting and swearing like a very devil, beating and spurring the horse until the poor creature's head and flanks were reddened with blood. It was just at sunset that Kedar found himself again on the bank of the Calawassee, near the point he had left in the morning, and heard once more the baying of his bounds. At last his prey seemed exhausted, and, swimming the river, it ran into a thicker on the opposite side and stood still. "Now I have him!" cried the hunter. "Hillio, Lauto! He's mine!" The old negro heard the call and hastened forward. He heard his master's horse floundering in the swamp that edged the river—then came a plash, a curse, and as the slave arrived at the margin a few babbles floated on the sluggish current. The deer stood in the thicket, staring with eyes that blazed through the falling darkness, and, with a wail of fear and sorrow, old Lauto fled the spot.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 2/Toccoa Falls

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TOCCOA FALLS
EARLY in the days of the white occupation of of Toccoa (the Beautiful). Its only occupant was a feeble woman, who found it ill work to get food enough from the wild fruits and scanty clearing near the house, and she had nigh forgotten the taste of meat; for her two sons, who were her pride no less than her support, had been killed by savages. She often said that she would gladly die if she could harm ​the red men back, in return for her suffering—which was not Christian doctrine, but was natural. She was brooding at her fire, one winter evening, in wonder as to how one so weak and old as she could be revenged, when her door was flung open and a number of red men filled her cabin. She hardly changed countenance. She did not rise. "You may take my life," she said, "for it is useless, now that you have robbed it of all that made it worth living."
"Hush!" said the chief. "What does the warrior want with the scalps of women? We war on your men because they kill our game and steal our land."
"Is it possible that you come to our homes except to kill?"
"We are strangers and have lost our way. You must guide us to the foot of Toccoa and lead us to our friends."
"I lead you? Never!"
The chief raised his axe, but the woman did not finch. There was a pause, in which the iron still hung menacing. Suddenly the dame looked up and said, "If you promise to protect me, I will lead you."
The promise was given and the band set forth, the aged guide in advance, bending against the storm and clasping her poor rags about her. In the darkest part of the wood, where the roaring of wind and groaning of branches seemed the louder for the ​booming of waters, she cautioned the band to keep in single file, but to make haste, for the way was far and the gloom was thickening. Bending their heads against the wind they pressed forward, she in advance. Suddenly, yet stealthily, she sprang aside and crouched beneath a tree that grew at the very brink of the fall. The Indians came on, following blindly, and in an instant she descried the leader as he went whirling over the edge, and one after another the party followed. When the last had gone to his death she arose to her feet with a laugh of triumph. "Now I, too, can die!" she cried. So saying, she fell forward into the grayness of space.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 2/Two Lives for One

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TWO LIVES FOR ONE
THE place of Macon, Georgia, in the early of this century was marked only by an inn. One of its guests was a man who had stopped there on the way to Alabama, where he had bought land. The girl who was to be his wife was to follow in a few days. In the morning when he paid his reckoning he produced a well-filled pocket-book, and he did not see the significant look that passed between two rough black-bearded fellows who had also spent the night there, and who, when he set forth, mounted their horses and offered to keep him company. As they rode through the deserted village of Chilicte one of the twain engaged the traveller in talk while the other, falling a little behind, dealt him a blow ​with a loaded whip that unseated him. Divining their purpose, and lacking weapons for his own defence, he begged for mercy, and asked to be allowed to return to his bride to be, but the robbers had already made themselves liable to penalty, and two knife-thrusts in the breast silenced his appeals. The money was secured, the body was dropped into a hollow where the wolves would be likely to find and mangle it, and the outlaws went on their way.
Men of their class do not keep money long, and when the proceeds of the robbery had been wasted at cards and in drink they separated. As in fulfilment of the axiom that a murderer is sure to revisit the scene of his crime, one of the men found himself at the Ockmulgee, a long time afterward, in sight of the new town—Macon. In response to his halloo a skiff shot forth from the opposite shore, and as it approached the bank he felt a stir in his hair and a touch of ice at his heart, for the ferryman was his victim of years ago. Neither spoke a word, but the criminal felt himself forced to enter the boat when the dead man waved his hand, and he was rowed across, his horse swimming beside the skiff. As the jar of the keel was felt on the gravel he leaped out, urged his horse to the road, sprang to the saddle, and rushed away in an agony of fear, that was heightened when a hollow voice called, "Stay!"
After a little he slackened pace, and a farmer, who was standing at the roadside, asked, in astonishment, ​"How did you get across? There is a freshet, and the ferryman was drowned last night." With a new thrill he spurred his horse forward, and made no other halt until he reached the tavern, where he fell in a faint on the steps, for the strain was no longer to be endured. A crowd gathered, but he did not see it when he awoke—he saw only one pair of eyes, that seemed to be looking into his inmost soul—the eyes of the man he had slain. With a yell of terror and of insane fury he rushed upon the ghost and thrust a knife into its breast. The frenzy passed. It was no ghost that lay on the earth before him, staring up with sightless eyes. It was his fellow-murderer—his own brother. That night the assassin's body hung from a tree at the cross-roads.