OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Population and Birth-Control/Introduction

INTRODUCTION By William J. Robinson, M.D.
WHEN people are engaged in the noble pursuit of exterminating their fellow men; when a nation’s ingenuity is concentrated upon inventions which would destroy the largest number of human beings in the shortest possible time; when the patriotic delirium has reached such a pitch that any criticism of war as a proper means of settling disputes, or any sceptical attitude toward militarism as a useful institution, is treated as a treasonable offence, while the pacifist is regarded as an intolerable nuisance who should be given short shrift; worst of all, when the national hysteria fed and fostered by the deliberate, systematically planned falsehoods of an unscrupulous but all-powerful press has become so well-nigh universal that libertarians who have devoted their lives to the cause of freedom and humanity suddenly undergo a complete metamorphosis, make common cause with tyrants and reactionaries, sneer at universal brotherhood, and look not only with indifference but with approval at the ruthless and brutal suppression of free speech, free press and free assembly, being willing for the sake of a mythical possible democracy to swallow an active ruthless autocracy; when these things have come to pass in the life of a nation, then has the social worker who has preserved his balance and holds on to the eternal verities a scanty chance to be heard. When corybantine chauvinism is rampant peaceful humanism is thrown in the discard.
    12 Mount Morris Park, W., New York.
    September 17, 1917.
# Population and Birth-Control/Women and Birth-Control

WOMEN AND BIRTH-CONTROL
EARLY in July, 1914, a very subtle artist and humanitarian pioneer pointed out that “the social problem in nearly every department has overtaken the organising efforts of our experts and administrators”; that “the least scientific and the most haphazard branch of our training and education of the young, and of our social organisation, is that of sex” and finally, that “nothing concerning sex can be rightly dealt with apart from the full equation.”
# Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft/Volume 3/Letter 51

LETTER LI.
Sunday Morning.
The captain last night, after I had written my letter to you intended to be left at a little village, offered to go to —— to pass to-day. We had a troublesome sail—and now I must hurry on board again, for the wind has changed.
I half expected to find a letter from you here. Had you written one haphazard, it would have been kind and considerate—you might have known, had you thought, that the wind would not permit me to depart. These are attentions, more grateful to the heart ​than offers of service—But why do I foolishly continue to look for them?
Adieu! adieu! My friend—your friendship is very cold—you see I am hurt.—God bless you! I may perhaps be, some time or other, independent in every sense of the word—Ah! there is but one sense of it of consequence. I will break or bend this weak heart—yet even now it is full.
Yours sincerely
The child is well; I did not leave her on board.
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# Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft/Volume 3/Letter 53

LETTER LIII.
June 29.
I wrote to you by the last post, to inform you of my arrival; and I believe I alluded to the extreme fatigue I endured on ship-board, owing to ———'s illness, and the roughness of the weather—I likewise mentioned to you my fall, the effects of which I still feel, though I do not think it will have any serious consequences.
——— will go with me, if I find it necessary to go to ———. The inns here are so bad, I was forced to accept of an apartment in his house. I am overwhelmed with civilities on all sides, ​and fatigued with the endeavours to amuse me, from which I cannot escape.
My friend—my friend, I am not well—a deadly weight of sorrow lies heavily on my heart. I am again tossed on the troubled billows of life; and obliged to cope with difficulties, without being buoyed up by the hopes that alone render them bearable. "How flat, dull, and unprofitable," appears to me all the bustle into which I see people here so eagerly enter! I long every night to go to bed, to hide my melancholy face in my pillow; but there is a canker-worm in my bosom that never sleeps.
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# Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft/Volume 3/Letter 54

LETTER LIV.
July 1.
I labour in vain to calm my mind—my soul has been overwhelmed by sorrow and disappointment. Every thing fatigues me—this is a life that cannot last long. It is you who must determine with respect to futurity—and, when you have, I will act accordingly—I mean, we must either resolve to live together, or part for ever, I cannot bear these continual struggles—But I wish you to examine carefully your own heart and mind; and, if you perceive the least chance of being happier without me than with me, or if your incli​nation leans capriciously to that side, do not dissemble; but tell me frankly that you will never see me more. I will then adopt the plan I mentioned to you—for we must either live together, or I will be entirely independent.
My heart is so oppressed, I cannot write with precision—You know however that what I so imperfectly express, are not the crude sentiments of the moment—You can only contribute to my comfort (it is the consolation I am in need of) by being with me—and, if the tenderest friendship is of any value, why will you not look to me for a degree of satisfaction that heartless affections cannot bestow?
Tell me then, will you determine to meet me at Basle?—I shall, I should imagine, be at ——— before the close of August; and, after you settle your ​affairs at Paris, could we not meet there?
God bless you!
Yours truly
Poor ——— has suffered during the journey with her teeth.
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# Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft/Volume 3/Letter 46

LETTER XLVI.
June 15.
I want to know how you have settled with respect to ———. In short, be very particular in your account of all your affairs—let our confidence, my dear, be unbounded.—The last time we were separated, was a separation indeed on your part—Now you have acted more ingenuously, ​let the most affectionate interchange of sentiments fill up the aching void of disappointment. I almost dread that your plans will prove abortive—yet should the most unlucky turn send you home to us, convinced that a true friend is a treasure, I should not much mind having to struggle with the world again. Accuse me not of pride—yet sometimes, when nature has opened my heart to its author, I have wondered that you did not set a higher value on my heart.
Receive a kiss from ———, I was going to add, if you will not take one from me, and believe me yours
Sincerely
The wind still continues in the same quarter.
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# Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft/Volume 3/Letter 5

LETTER V.
Sunday Night.
I have just received your letter, and feel as if I could not go to bed tranquilly without saying a few words in reply—merely to tell you, that my mind is serene, and my heart affectionate.
Ever since you last saw me inclined to faint, I have felt some gentle twitches, which make me begin to think, that I am nourishing a creature who will soon be sensible of my care.—This thought has not only produced an overflowing of tenderness to you, but made me very attentive to calm my mind and take exercise, lest I should destroy an object, in whom we are to have a mutual interest, you know. Yesterday—do not smile!—finding that I had hurt myself ​by lifting precipitately a large log of wood, I sat down in an agony, till I felt those said twitches again.
Are you very busy?
So you may reckon on its being finished soon, though not before you come home, unless you are detained longer than I now allow myself to believe you will.—
Be that as it may, write to me, my best love, and bid me be patient—kindly—and the expressions of kindness will again beguile the time, as sweetly as they have done to-night.—Tell me also over and over again, that your happiness (and you deserve to be ​happy!) is closely connected with mine, and I will try to dissipate, as they rise, the fumes of former discontent, that have too often clouded the sunshine, which you have endeavoured to diffuse through my mind. God bless you! Take care of yourself, and remember with tenderness your affectionate
I am going to rest very happy, and you have made me so.—This is the kindest good-night I can utter.
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# Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft/Volume 3/Letter 49

LETTER XLIX.
Thursday.
Here I am still—and I have just received your letter of Monday by the pilot, who promised to bring it to me, if we were detained, as he expected, by the wind.—It is indeed wearisome to be thus tossed about without going forward.—I have a violent head-ache—yet I am obliged to take care of the child, who is a little tormented by her teeth, because ——— is unable to do any thing, she is rendered so sick by the motion of the ship, as we ride at anchor.
These are however trifling inconveniences, compared with anguish of mind—compared with the sinking of a ​broken heart.—To tell you the truth, I never suffered in my life so much from depression of spirits—from despair.—I do not sleep—or, if I close my eyes, it is to have the most terrifying dreams, in which I often meet you with different casts of countenance.
I will not, my dear ———, torment you by dwelling on my sufferings—and will use all my efforts to calm my mind, instead of deadening it—at present it is most painfully active. I find I am not equal to these continual struggles—yet your letter this morning has afforded me some comfort—and I will try to revive hope. One thing let me tell you—when we meet again—surely we are to meet!—it must be to part no more. I mean not to have seas between us—it is more than I can support.
​The pilot is hurrying me—God bless you.
In spite of the commodiousness of the vessel, every thing here would disgust my senses, had I nothing else to think of—"When the mind's free, the body's delicate;"—mine has been too much hurt to regard trifles.
Yours most truly
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# Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft/Volume 3/Letter 52

LETTER LII.
June 27, Saturday.
I arrived in ——— this afternoon, after vainly attempting to land at ——. I have now but a moment, before the post goes out, to inform you we have got here; though not without considerable difficulty, for we were set ashore in a boat above twenty miles below.
What I suffered in the vessel I will not now descant upon—nor mention the pleasure I received from the sight of the rocky coast.—This morning however, walking to join the carriage that was to transport us to this place, ​I fell, without any previous warning, senseless on the rocks—and how I escaped with life I can scarcely guess. I was in a stupour for a quarter of an hour; the suffusion of blood at last restored me to my senses—the contusion is great, and my brain confused. The child is well.
Twenty miles ride in the rain, after my accident, has sufficiently deranged me—and here I could not get a fire to warm me, or any thing warm to eat; the inns are mere stables—I must nevertheless go to bed. For God's sake, let me hear from you immediately, my friend! I am not well and yet you see I cannot die.
Yours sincerely
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# Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft/Volume 3/Letter 47

LETTER XLVII.
Tuesday Morning.
The captain has just sent to inform me, that I must be on board in the course of a few hours.—I wished to have stayed till to-morrow. It would have been a comfort to me to have received another letter from you—Should one arrive, it will be sent after me.
My spirits are agitated, I scarcely know why——The quitting England seems to be a fresh parting.—Surely you will not forget me.—A thousand weak forebodings assault my soul, and the state of my health renders me sensible to every thing. It is surprising that in London, in a continual con​flict of mind, I was still growing better—whilst here, bowed down by the despotic hand of fate, forced into resignation by despair, I seem to be fading away—perishing beneath a cruel blight, that withers up all my faculties.
The child is perfectly well. My hand seems unwilling to add adieu! I know not why this inexpressible sadness has taken possession of me.—It is not a presentiment of ill. Yet, having been so perpetually the sport of disappointment,—having a heart that has been as it were a mark for misery, I dread to meet wretchedness in some new shape.—Well, let it come—I care not!—what have I to dread, who have so little to hope for! God bless you—I am most affectionately and sincerely yours
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# Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft/Volume 3/Letter 48

LETTER XLVIII.
Wednesday Morning.
I was hurried on board yesterday about three o'clock, the wind having changed. But before evening it veered round to the old point; and here we are, in the midst of mists and water, only taking advantage of the tide to advance a few miles.
You will scarcely suppose that I left the town with reluctance—yet it was even so—for I wished to receive another letter from you, and I felt pain at parting, for ever perhaps, from the amiable family, who had treated me with so much hospitality and kindness. They will probably send me your letter, if it ​arrives this morning; for here we are likely to remain, I am afraid to think how long.
The vessel is very commodious, and the captain a civil, open-hearted kind of man. There being no other passengers, I have the cabin to myself, which is pleasant; and I have brought a few books with me to beguile weariness; but I seem inclined, rather to employ the dead moments of suspence in writing some effusions, than in reading.
What are you about? How are your affairs going on? It may be a long time before you answer these questions. My dear friend, my heart sinks within me!—Why am I forced thus to struggle continually with my affections and feelings?—Ah! why are those affections and feelings the source ​of so much misery, when they seem to have been given to vivify my heart, and extend my usefulness! But I must not dwell on this subject.—Will you not endeavour to cherish all the affection you can for me? What am I saying?—Rather forget me, if you can—if other gratifications are dearer to you.—How is every remembrance of mine embittered by disappointment? What a world is this!—They only seem happy, who never look beyond sensual or artificial enjoyments.—Adieu!
——— begins to play with the cabin-boy, and is as gay as a lark.—I will labour to be tranquil; and am in every mood,
Yours sincerely
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# Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft/Volume 3/Letter 50

LETTER L.
Saturday.
This is the fifth dreary day I have been imprisoned by the wind, with every outward object to disgust the senses, and unable to banish the remembrances that sadden my heart.
​How am I altered by disappointment!—When going to ——, ten years ago, the elasticity of my mind was sufficient to ward off weariness—and the imagination still could dip her brush in the rainbow of fancy, and sketch futurity in smiling colours. Now I am going towards the North in search of sunbeams!—Will any ever warm this desolated heart? All nature seems to frown—or rather mourn with me.—Every thing is cold—cold as my expectations! Before I left the shore, tormented, as I now am, by these North east chillers, I could not help exclaiming—Give me, gracious Heaven! at least, genial weather, if I am never to meet the genial affection that still warms this agitated bosom—compelling life to linger there.
I am now going on shore with the ​captain, though the weather be rough, to seek for milk, &c. at a little village, and to take a walk—after which I hope to sleep—for, confined here, surrounded by disagreeable smells, I have lost the little appetite I had; and I lie awake, till thinking almost drives me to the brink of madness—only to the brink, for I never forget, even in the feverish slumbers I sometimes fall into, the misery I am labouring to blunt the the sense of, by every exertion in my power.
Poor ——— still continues sick, and ——— grows weary when the weather will not allow her to remain on deck.
I hope this will be the last letter I shall write from England to you—are you not tired of this lingering adieu?
Yours truly
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# Popular Science Monthly/Volume 64

Scans
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# Presidential Weekly Address - 8 October 2016

Weekly address delivered on [8 October 2016]. A Spanish language version of the address was also made available on October 7th.
THE PRESIDENT: Hi, everybody. Eight years ago, we were in the early stages of what would become the worst economic crisis of our lifetimes. It was a scary time. We didn’t even know where the bottom would be.
But thanks to your hard work and determination, and some smart decisions we made, today’s a different story. We turned a recession into a record streak of job growth, creating more than 15 million new private-sector jobs and cutting the unemployment rate in half.
Getting wages to rise again was a harder task. Even before the recession, working Americans faced decades of slow wage growth. Between 1980 and 2007, real wages barely grew each year. But because the policies we’ve put in place are working, working families are finally seeing their wages and incomes rise, too. Since 2012, wages have grown around 20 times faster than they did over the almost three decades between 1980 and 2007.
Last year, folks’ typical household income rose by $2,800. That’s the single biggest increase on record. And across every race and age group in America, incomes rose and poverty rates fell. We lifted 3.5 million people out of poverty – the largest one-year drop in the poverty rate since 1968.
What’s more, lower- and middle-income families saw the biggest boost in incomes – in part because 18 states and the District, as well as more than 50 communities, have given millions of Americans a raise by raising the minimum wage. And states that have raised their minimum wage have seen stronger earnings growth in low-wage jobs compared to states that have not.
Strengthening benefits at work helps, too. Last week, for example, I took action to make sure up to one million more workers can earn seven days of paid sick leave on the job. We’re also helping states expand opportunities for workers to save for retirement. But there’s a lot more we should do to strengthen the middle class and help more Americans get ahead. Making childcare more affordable, for example. Making sure women earn equal pay for equal work. Guaranteeing paid family and sick leave. Increasing the federal minimum wage. Preparing workers for the jobs of the future. And closing tax loopholes that benefit just the wealthy and big corporations.
Now we just need a Congress that cares about these issues – one that will finally put politics aside and act on these commonsense ideas. That’s how we’ll build on the progress we’ve made over these past eight years, and achieve one thing we should all agree on – securing a brighter future for all our children.
Thanks everybody. Have a great weekend.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Proclamation 4448

Copy of proclamation obtained here
July 2, 1976
By the President of the United States of America
A Proclamation
This year we mark the beginning of our third century as an independent nation. Two hundred years ago our Declaration of Independence declared that "all men are created equal." It did not say "all Americans" but embraced all men everywhere. Throughout our history we have repeatedly demonstrated our conviction and concerns that men and women throughout the world should share the full blessings of liberty.
As we celebrate our Bicentennial, it is important that we let the world know that America still cares, that the torch in the Statue of Liberty still burns brightly. The world should know that we stand for freedom and independence in 1976, just as we stood for freedom and independence in 1776.
For two centuries, the fundamental basis of American policy toward other nations has remained unchanged: the United States supports the aspirations for freedom, independence and national self-determination of all peoples. We do not accept foreign domination over any nation. We reaffirm today this principle and policy.
The Eighty-Sixth Congress, by a joint resolution approved July 17, 1959 (73 Stat. 212), authorized and requested the President to proclaim the third week in July of each year as Captive Nations Week.
Now, Therefore, I, Gerald R. Ford, President of the United States of America, do hereby designate the week beginning July 18, 1976 as Captive Nations Week.
I call upon the people of the United States to observe this week with appropriate ceremonies and activities, and I urge rededication to the aspirations of all peoples for self-determination and liberty.
In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand this second day of July in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred seventy-six, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundredth.
GERALD R. FORD
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Proclamation 4449

Copy of proclamation obtained here
July 19, 1976
By the President of the United States of America
A Proclamation
In the last two decades of our Nation's second century, we entered upon the exploration of yet another frontier—the corridors of space. Seven years ago, on July 20, 1969, this great national effort culminated in a transmission to Earth from a quarter million miles distance-"the Eagle has landed."
The world watched in awe as an American took his historic one small step onto the Moon. A dream of thousands of years had been realized. In keeping with tradition, the American presence in that new land was symbolized by the planting of the Stars and Stripes, which proclaimed the benefits of human freedom for the entire universe.
The space programs reflect not only technological skill of the highest order, they reflect the best in the American character-sacrifice, ingenuity and our unrelenting spirit of adventure. We begin our third century with a further expression of that combination, the brilliant unmanned mission to Mars, the most ambitious of all deep space explorations.
In celebrating the Bicentennial, we have gloried as a people in the history of a great and successful venture in the human experience. We gave thanks for our blessing and offered prayers for the future. It is appropriate that we again call upon Divine Providence for guidance and protection in our quest of space and those endless horizons in all the centuries to come.
As we once set about to conquer the wilderness and settle our continent, now we set out upon a journey into the unknown of our universe. Wherever we teach, we will have come in peace for all mankind.
Now, Therefore, I, Gerald R. Ford, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim Tuesday, July 20, 1976, as Space Exploration Day. I urge all Americans, and interested groups and organizations to observe this day with appropriate ceremonies and activities.
In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand this nineteenth day of July, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred seventy-six; and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred first.
GERALD R. FORD
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse