OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Marriage of Mount Katahdin

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THE MARRIAGE OF MOUNT KATAHDIN
AN Indian girl gathering berries on the side of Mount Katahdin looked up at its peak, rosy in the afternoon light, and sighed, "I wish that I had a husband. If Katahdin were a man he might marry me." Her companions laughed at this quaint conceit, and, filled with confusion at being overheard, she climbed higher up the slope and was lost to sight. For three years her tribe lost sight of her; then she came back with a child in her arms: a beautiful boy with brows of stone. The boy had wonderful power: he had only to point at a moose or a duck or a bear, and it fell dead, so that the tribe never wanted food. For he was the son of the Indian girl and the spirit of the mountain, who had commanded her not to reveal the boy's paternity. Through years she held silence on this point, holding in contempt, like other Indians, the prying inquiries of gossips and the teasing of young people, and knowing that Katahdin had designed the child for the founder of a mighty race, with the sinews of the very mountains in its frame, that should fill and rule the earth. Yet, one day, in anger at ​some slight, the mother spoke: "Fools! Wasps who sting the fingers that pick you from the water! Why do you torment me about what you might all see? Look at the boy's face his brows: in them do you not see Katahdin? Now you have brought the curse upon yourselves, for you shall hunt your own venison from this time forth." Leading the child by the hand she turned toward the mountain and went out from their sight. And since then the Indians who could not hold their tongues, and who might otherwise have been great, have dwindled to a little people.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Moose of Mount Kineo

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THE MOOSE OF MOUNT KINΕΟ
EASTERN traditions concerning Hiawatha differ in many respects from those of the West. In the East he is known as Glooskap, god of the Passamaquoddies, and his marks are left in many places in the maritime provinces and Maine. It was he who gave names to things, created men, filled them with life, and moved their wonder with storms. He lived on the rocky height of Blomidon, at the entrance to Minas Basin, Nova Scotia, and the agates to be found along its foot are jewels that he made for his grandmother's necklace, when he restored her youth. He threw up a ridge between Fort Cumberland and Parrsboro, Nova Scotia, that he might cross, dry shod, the lake made by the beavers when they dammed the strait at Blomidon, but he afterward ​killed the beavers, and breaking down their dam he let the lake flow into the sea, and went southward on a hunting tour. At Mount Desert he killed a moose, whose bones he flung to the ground at Bar Harbor, where they are still to be seen, turned to stone, while across the bay he threw the entrails, and they, too, are visible as rocks, dented with his arrow-points. Mount Kineo was anciently a cow moose of colossal size that he slew and turned into a height of land, and the Indians trace the outline of the creature in the uplift to this day. Little Kineo was a calf moose that he slew at the same time, and Kettle Mountain is his camp-caldron that he flung to the ground in the ardor of the chase.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Owl Tree

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THE OWL TREE
ONE day in October, 1827, Rev. Charles Sharply rode into Alfred, Maine, and held service in the meeting-house. After the sermon he announced that he was going to Waterborough to preach, and that on his circuit he had collected two hundred and seventy dollars to help build a church in that village. Would not his hearers add to that sum? They would and did, and that evening the parson rode away with over three hundred dollars in his saddle-bags. He never appeared in Waterborough. Some of the country people gave tongue to their fear that the possession of the money had made him forget his sacred calling and that he had fled the State. ​On the morning after his disappearance, however, Deacon Dickerman appeared in Alfred riding on a horse that was declared to be the minister's, until the tavern hostler affirmed that the minister's horse had a white star on forehead and breast, whereas this horse was all black. The deacon said that he found the horse grazing in his yard at daybreak, and that he would give it to whoever could prove it to be his property. Nobody appeared to demand it, and people soon forgot that it was not his. He extended his business at about that time and prospered; he became a rich man for a little place; though, as his wealth increased, he became morose and averse to company.
One day a rumor went around that a belated traveller had seen misty thing under "the owl tree" at a turn of a road where owls were hooting, and that it took on a strange likeness to the missing clergyman. Dickerman paled when he heard this story, but he shook his head and muttered of the folly of listening to boy nonsense. Ten years had gone by—during that time the boys had avoided the owl tree after dark—when a clergyman of the neighborhood was hastily summoned to see Mr. Dickerman, who was said to be suffering from overwork. He found the deacon in his house alone, pacing the floor, his dress disordered, his cheek hectic.
"I have not long to live," said he, "nor would I live longer if I could. I am haunted day and night, and there is no peace, no rest for me on earth. ​They say that Sharply's spirit has appeared at the owl tree. Well, his body lies there. They accused me of taking his horse. It is true. A little black dye on his head and breast was all that was needed to deceive them. Pray for me, for I fear my soul is lost. I killed Sharply." The clergyman recoiled. "I killed him," the wretched man went on, "for the money that he had. The devil prospered me with it. In my will I leave two thousand dollars to his widow and five thousand dollars to the church he was collecting for. Will there be mercy for me there? I dare not think it. Go and pray for me." The clergyman hastened away, but was hardly outside the door when the report of a pistol brought him back. Dickerman lay dead on the floor. Sharply's body was exhumed from the shade of the owl tree, and the spot was never haunted after.
# The Power of the Press

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Power of the Press."
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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.
* The Power of the Press (1928), a silent film directed by Frank Capra
* "The Power of the Press" (1936), an episode of the radio series Housekeepers' Chat, by the United States Department of Agriculture
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/A Chestnut Log

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A CHESTNUT LOG
THERE is no doubt that farmer Lovel had read ancient history or he would not have been so ready in the emergency that befell him one time in the last century. He had settled among the New Hampshire hills near the site that is now occupied by the village of Washington and had a real good time there with bears and Indians. It was when he was splitting rails on Lovel Mountain—they named it for him afterward—that he found himself surrounded by six Indians, who told him that he ​was their prisoner. He agreed that they had the advantage over him and said that he would go quietly along if they would allow him to finish the big chestnut log that he was at work on. As he was a powerful fellow and was armed with an axe worth any two of their tomahawks, and as he would be pretty sure to have the life of at least one of them if they tried to drive him faster than he wanted to go, they consented. He said that he would be ready all the sooner if they would help him to pull the big log apart, and they agreed to help him. Driving a wedge into the long split he asked them to take hold, and when they had done this he knocked out the wedge with a single blow and the twelve hands were caught tight in the closing wood. Struggle as the savages might, they could not get free, and after calmly enjoying the situation for a few minutes he walked slowly from one to the other and split open the heads of all six. Then he went to work again splitting up more chestnuts.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/The Watcher on White Island

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THE WATCHER ON WHITE ISLAND
THE Isles of Shoals, a little archipelago of wind- and wave-swept rocks that may be seen on clear days from the New Hampshire coast, have been the scene of some mishaps and some crimes. On Boone Island, where the Nottingham galley went down one hundred and fifty years ago, the survivors turned cannibals to escape starvation, while ​Haley's Island is peopled by shipwrecked Spanish ghosts that hail vessels and beg for passage back to their country. The pirate Teach, or Blackbeard, used to put in at these islands to hide his treasure, and one of his lieutenants spent some time on White Island with a beautiful girl whom he had abducted from her home in Scotland and who, in spite of his rough life, had learned to love him. It was while walking with her on this rock, forgetful of his trade and the crimes he had been stained with, that one of his men ran up to report a sail that was standing toward the islands. The pirate ship was quickly prepared for action, but before embarking, mindful of possible flight or captivity, the lieutenant made his mistress swear that she would guard the buried treasure if it should be till doomsday.
The ship he was hurrying to meet came smoothly on until the pirate craft was well in range, when ports flew open along the stranger's sides, guns were run out, and a heavy broadside splintered through the planks of the robber galley. It was a man-of-war, not a merchantman, that had run Blackbeard down. The warship closed and grappled with the corsair, but while the sailors were standing at the chains ready to leap aboard and complete the subjugation of the outlaws a mass of flame burst from the pirate ship, both vessels were hurled in fragments through the air, and a roar went for miles along the sea. Blackbeard's lieutenant had fired the magazine rather than submit to capture, and had ​blown the two ships into a common ruin. A few of both crews floated to the islands on planks, sore from burns and bruises, but none survived the cold and hunger of the winter. The pirate's mistress was among the first to die; still, true to her promise, she keeps her watch, and at night is dimly seen on a rocky point gazing toward the east, her tall figure enveloped in a cloak, her golden hair unbound upon her shoulders, her pale face still as marble.
# Myths and Legends of Our Own Land/Volume 1/Chocorua

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CHOCORUA
THIS beautiful alp in the White Mountains commemorates in its name prophet of the Pequawket tribe who, prior to undertaking a journey, had confided his son to a friendly settler, Cornelius Campbell, of Tamworth. The boy found some poison in the house that had been prepared for foxes, and, thinking it to be some delicacy, he drank of it and died. When Chocorua returned he could not be persuaded that his son had fallen victim to his own ignorance, but ascribed his death to the white man's treachery, and one day, when Campbell entered his cabin from the fields, he found there the corpses of his wife and children scalped and mangled.
He was not a man to lament at such a time: hate was stronger than sorrow. A fresh trail led from his door. Seizing his rifle he set forth in pursuit of the murderer. A mark in the dust, a bent grass ​blade, a torn leaf—these were guides enough, and following on through bush and swamp and wood they led him to this mountain, and up the slope he scrambled breathlessly. At the summit, statue-like, Chocorua stood. He saw the avenger coming, and knew himself unarmed, but he made no attempt to escape his doom. Drawing himself erect and stretching forth his hands he invoked anathema on his enemies in these words: "A curse upon you, white men! May the Great Spirit curse you when he speaks in the clouds, and his words are fire! Chocorua had a son and you killed him while the sky looked bright. Lightning blast your crops! Winds and fire destroy your dwellings! The Evil One breathe death upon your cattle! Your graves lie in the war-path of the Indian! Panthers howl and wolves fatten over your bones! Chocorua goes to the Great Spirit. His curse stays with the white man."
The report of Campbell's rifle echoed from the ledges and Chocorua leaped into the air, plunging to the rocks below. His mangled remains were afterward found and buried near the Tamworth path. The curse had its effect, for pestilence and storm devastated the surrounding country and the smaller settlements were abandoned. Campbell became a morose hermit, and was found dead in his bed two years afterward.
# Brooklyn Times-Union/1929/Woman Is Victim Of Drunken Brawl

William Henry Rhodes Jr. (1886-?) in the Brooklyn Times-Union on April 1, 1929.
Woman Is Victim Of Drunken Brawl
Near Death With Smashed Skull After Party. Two Men Held. Arrest Rum Seller.
Port Jefferson, New York; April 1, 1929. Bootleg liquor is blamed as the cause of a tragedy yesterday in the lonely little hamlet of Ridge, in the center of Long Island, midway between Middle Island and Shoreham. Neighbors hearing a woman scream notified state troopers at Port Jefferson, nearly 12 miles away. In a small, dilapidated shanty the troopers found Emma Floyd, colored, lying on the floor in a pool of blood, her skull crushed apparently by the fence rail lying near her. William Henry Rhodes, the woman's common-law husband, and William Howell, of Bellport, also colored, were discovered in an intoxicated condition. According to the troopers, Howell told them he saw Rhodes strike the Floyd woman with the fence rail, following a drunken brawl. The men were placed under arrest and the woman removed to the Port Jefferson Hospital, where she is not expected to survive. On information from Howell that the liquor was obtained from John Malduca, of Shoreham, the troopers raided the latter's home, seized a quantity of cider and wine and arrested Malduca, on whom they allege they found a pistol. All three, men were arraigned yesterday afternoon before Justice of the Peace Jacob Dreyer here. Rhodes was remanded to the county jail at Riverhead, held without bail on a charge of felonious assaults, which will be changed to homicide in the event that the Floyd woman dies. Howell was also held without bail on the charge of public intoxication. Malduca was held [with bail set at] $2,000 on the charge of maintaining a public nuisance, and an additional $2,000 for violation of the Sullivan law.
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
# Brooklyn Times-Union/1907/In Italian Homes

North Bellport, New York in the Brooklyn Times-Union on 31 May 1907.
In Italian Homes.
What a Correspondent Observed in the Colony Near Bellport.
Bellport, New York; May 31, 1907. There are two colored and Italian colonies In North Bellport, most interesting to visit. The home of the Italian is discernible by the well-kept garden. No matter how small the area, the family Is well supplied with green vegetables and fruit. The women do much of the labor of planting, not because they are made to do it by their men, but the latter, are engaged in other occupations, bringing in the "mighty dollar." The health of the Italian is very good, on a diet foreign to the so-called hygienic menu of the average Bellporter. Blood pudding, macaroni, good bread made in quantity in a genuine Italian oven, built by an enterprising son of sunny Italy, and other savory relishes. The Italian is not one to run to the store for impromptu meals. They buy wisely, and when possible, wholesale. They lead a life, in their customs, much as across the sea, in their "own home." The girls marry very early In life. Weddings, Saints' days, births, funerals, are celebrated with the rites of Italy. Insurance is carried on in accordance with the seven ages of man. Frugal, Industrious, these people are fast, accumulating competencies.
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
# Forgive

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Forgive."
* sister projects: 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.
* "Forgive", a poem by Alice J. Green Barker
* "Forgive", a poem by Helen Elizabeth Coolidge
* "Forgive", a poem by Mary Caroline Denver and Jane Campbell Denver
# The Cross and Crown

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.
* "The Cross and Crown", a poem by Alice J. Green Barker
* "The Cross and Crown", a poem by Mary Caroline Denver and Jane Campbell Denver
# Brooklyn Times-Union/1894/Henry Lattin

* related portals: Henry K. Lattin, Jarvis Andrew Lattin.
* sister projects: quotes, Wikidata item.
Henry Lattin (1806-1894) obituary in the Brooklyn Times-Union on November 23, 1894.
Henry Lattin.
Henry Lattin, one of Farmingdale's oldest residents, died on Wednesday at the home of his son, Jarvis A. Lattin. Mr. Lattin met with an accident some three weeks ago which caused his death. He was picking apples from a tree when the ladder on which he was standing fell with him and in the fall an arm and a leg were broken. The deceased had been a resident of Farmingdale sixty years, and was well known on Long Island. After eighty-eight years of active life the confinement caused by broken limbs was too much for him and he often expressed a desire to be called from earth and its suffering and care. The funeral services were held in the M. E. Church and the interment in Bethpage Cemetery this afternoon.
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
# Faith

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Faith."
* 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.
* "Faith", a poem by Annie Lanman Angier
* "Faith" (Lord! into the darkness and murky gloom), a poem by Alice J. Green Barker
* "Faith" (A poor boy lay in a hospital ward), a poem by Alice J. Green Barker
* "Faith", a poem by Ada Cambridge
* "Faith", a poem by Sarah Elizabeth Carmichael
* "Faith", a poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
* "Faith", a poem by Sophia May Eckley
* "Faith", a poem by Mary Whitwell Hale
* "Faith", a poem by George Herbert
* "Faith", a poem by Frances Anne Kemble
* "Faith", a poem by Mary Newmarch Prescott
* "Faith", a poem by Robert William Service
* "Faith", a poem by Lydia Huntley Sigourney
* "Faith", a poem by Christopher Smart
* Faith, treatise by Ibn Taymiyyah
* "Faith", a poem by Alfred Tennyson
* "Faith", a poem by Clara Augusta Jones Trask
* "Faith", a poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
# Four Songs (Newton-Stewart)

No. 5.
Four
SONGS.
Annandale Robin.
The Blue Eyed Lassie,
The Birks of Aberfeldy.
For A' That And A' That.
NEWTON-STEWART.
Printed and Sold, Wholesale and Retail, by J. M'Nairn.
* Annandale Robin
* The Blue Eyed Lassie
* The Birks of Aberfeldy
* For A' That And A' That
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
# Four Songs (Newton-Stewart)/Annandale Robin

ANNANDALE ROBIN.
# A Man's a Man for A' That

'"A Man's a Man for A' That", also known as "Is There for Honest Poverty" (Scottish Gaelic: A bheil Bochdainn Onarach Ann) or "For a' That and a' That", is a 1795 song by Robert Burns, written in Scots and English, famous for its expression of egalitarian ideas of society, which may be seen as expressing the ideas of republicanism that arose in the 18th century.' Warning: template has been deprecated.
* "For A' That And A' That" in Four Songs (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Newton-Stewart
* "For A' That" in The Flowers of the Forest (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "For a' that and a' that" in For a' that and a' that (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "For a' that and a' that" in For a' that and a' that (1818), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "For a' That" in Poems That Every Child Should Know (1904).
* "For a' that and a' that", in The Poetical Works of Robert Burns (1887), edited by Alexander Smith
# The Flowers of the Forest (Fraser)

The Flowers of the Forest,
A MAN’S A MAN FOR A’ THAT.
Nae Luck about the House,
WERE I OBLIG’D, &c.
AND
TWEEDSIDE.
No. 26.
PRINTED FOR, AND SOLD WHOLESALE BY, J. FRASER, PRINTER, STIRLING.
* The Flowers o' the Forest
* For A' That
* Nae Luck About the House
* Somebody
* Tweeside
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
# Four Songs (Newton-Stewart)/For A' That And A' That

FOR A THAT AND A THAT.
FINIS.
# Four Songs (Newton-Stewart)/The Birks of Aberfeldy

THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY.
# Fairfa' the lasses (1)

FAIRFA' THE LASSES,
The Wealthy Fool,
I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen,
TO MARY, IN HEAVEN,
and
Loud roar'd the dreadful Thunder.
sold wholesale by j. fraser & co.
printers, stirling
* Fairfa' the Lasses
* The Friend and Pitcher
* I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen
* Is there a heart that never lov'd
* To Mary in Heaven
* The Bay of Biscay O
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
# Fairfa' the lasses (1)/The Friend and Pitcher

THE FRIEND AND PITCHER.
The wealthy fool with gold in store, Will still desire to grow the richer; Give me but these, I ask no more; My charming girl, my friend and pitcher.
​My friend so rare, my girl so fair, With such what mortal can be richer; Give me but these, a fig for care, With my sweet girl, my friend & pitcher.
From morning sun I'd never grieve To toil. a hedger or a ditcher, If that, when I came home at eve, I might enjoy my friend and pitcher. My friend so rare, &c.
Though Fortune ever shuns my door, (I know not what can thus bewitch her), With all my heart can I be poor, With any'sweet girl, my friend and pitcher. My friend so rare, &c.
# Fairfa' the lasses (1)/I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen

I gaed a waefu' gale yestreen.
I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen, A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue; I gat my death frae twa sweet een, Twa lovely een o' bonnie blue. 'Twas not her golden ringlets bright, Her lips like roses wat wi' dew, Her heaving bosom lily white; It was her een sae bonnie blue.
She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wild, She charm'd my soul, I wistna how;
​And aye the stound, the deadly wound, Cam frae her een sae bonnie blue Cut spare to speak, and spare to speed, She’ll aiblins listen to my vow: Shoud she refuse, I’ll lay my dead To her twa een sae bonnie blue.