OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Letters of Julian/Letter 37

From The Works of the Emperor Julian, volume III (1913) Loeb Classical Library.

## 37. To Atarbius

[362, Constantinople or Antioch]
I affirm by the gods that I do not wish the Galilaeans to be either put to death or unjustly beaten, or to suffer any other injury; but nevertheless I do assert absolutely that the god-fearing must be preferred to them. For through the folly of the Galilaeans almost everything has been overturned, whereas through the grace of the gods are we all preserved. Wherefore we ought to honour the gods and the god-fearing, both men and cities.

## Footnotes

* ↑ This is probably Atarbius (so spelled in the Letters of Libanius) a native of Ancyra and at this time administrator of the district of the Euphrates. In 364 he held high office in Macedonia.
* ↑ For other letters on the same subject cf. To the Citizens of Byzacium, Letter 39, and To Hecebolius, Letter 40.
# Letters of Julian/Letter 33

From The Works of the Emperor Julian, volume III (1913) Loeb Classical Library.

## 33. To the most reverend Theodora

[362, about the same date as Letter 32]
I was glad to receive all the books that you sent me, and your letters through the excellent Mygdonius. And since I have hardly any leisure, — as the gods know, I speak without affectation, — I have written you these few lines. And now fare-well, and may you always write me letters of the same sort!

## Footnotes

* ↑ The epithet as well as the preceding letter show that she was a priestess.
* ↑ Mygdonius protected Libanius in Constantinople in 343. There is nothing to show whether Julian was at Antioch or Constantinople when he wrote these letters to Theodora.
# Letters of Julian/Letter 38

From The Works of the Emperor Julian, volume III (1913) Loeb Classical Library.

## 38. Julian the Apostate to Porphyrius

[362, after the middle of July from Antioch]
The library of George was very large and complete and contained philosophers of every school and many historians, especially, among these, numerous books of all kinds by the Galilaeans. Do you therefore make a thorough search for the whole library without exception and take care to send it to Antioch. You may be sure that you will yourself incur the severest penalty if you do not trace it with all diligence, and do not by every kind of enquiry, by every kind of sworn testimony and, further, by torture of the slaves, compel, if you cannot persuade, those who are in any way suspected of having stolen any of the books to bring them all forth. Farewell.

## Footnotes

* ↑ Perhaps this is George's secretary mentioned in the Letter to Ecdicius, Letter 23. Geffcken thinks this letter was a Christian forgery because it seems to ignore the earlier order to Ecdicius. Probably the books had not arrived, and Julian became impatient.
* ↑ Cumont thinks that a scribe added this inappropriate greeting.
# Letters of Julian/Letter 39

From The Works of the Emperor Julian, volume III (1913) Loeb Classical Library.

## 39. To the citizens of Byzacium

[362, Probably from Antioch]
I have restored to you all your senators and councillors whether they have abandoned themselves to the superstition of the Galilaeans or have devised some other method of escaping from the senate, and have excepted only those who have filled public offices in the capital.

## Footnotes

* ↑ Byzacium was in the district of Tunis. This is Cumont's conjecture for MS. title Τοῖς Βυζαντίνοις, To the Byzantines. Julian never calls Constantinople Byzantium. Gibbon suspected the title and conjectured that it was addressed to the town Bisanthe (Rodosto) in Thrace.
* ↑ The meaning of this word is not clear; Cumont translates "patroni" i.e. protectors, but we cannot be certain as to the functions of these local dignitaries in Africa.
* ↑ On the burden of being a Senator cf. Libanius, Oration 2; Ammianus 21. 12. 23; Julian, Misopogon 367d. It was one of Julian's most widespread reforms to enrol all wealthy men in the senates of their cities. By an edict of March 362 he deprived the Christian clerics of their immunities from such public offices which had been conferred on them by Constantine (cf. Sozomen 5. 5) and in the present case his edict is directed mainly against those who had become clerics in order to escape municipal service. Philostorgius 7. 4 says that this was part of Julian's malignant policy. The Emperor Valentinian restored their privileges to the clerics in 364.
# Letters of a Javanese princess/Chapter 27

XXVII
November 20th, 1901.
ONE should never promise anything, even when it depends entirely upon oneself, because one can never tell beforehand what will happen. Never mind how honestly the promise is made, and how earnestly one desires to keep it, unforeseen circumstances may arise, which make its fulfillment impossible. There is a belief among us Javanese, that those who break a promise will be visited by a poisonous serpent. The serpent comes to remind them of their promise, if they do not quickly fulfill it, they will be visited by another more venomous serpent, whose bite is deadly. If they delay longer, misfortune will surely overtake them. The serpent only lives upon the promises of holy spirits, as the souls of the righteous who are dead are nourished by flowers, perfume and incense. The serpent is sent by the departed souls of the righteous to remind men of their forgotten promises. But why do I tell you of our Javanese beliefs? Forgive me, when there is so much besides that I want to tell you.
I deserve a fine scolding for my long delay in writing; in large measure, it was due to indolence. I am not satisfied with myself! What makes me so lazy and restless? I do not understand it. I am not definitely sick, but at the same time I am far from well. I am dull, weary and uneasy; nonsense—hypochondria—there! I must seize hold of myself; it is work that I need—work that my heart is in. And ​now comes my stupidity; because I cannot work at that which I would, I turn with distaste from all other forms of toil. That is weakness, I know. But I could stand a whole avalanche of work better than these unbearable trivialities with which my time is filled.
# Letters of a Javanese princess/Chapter 24

XXIV
September 4, 1901.
WE will not, we cannot believe that our lives will be only commonplace and monotonous like the lives of thousands of others before us, and as wall be those of thousands of those who come after us! and yet any other destiny seems so improbable. Only once the fulfilment of our nearest and dearest wishes seemed near; now it is unattainably far away.
There are hours when the tortured human heart, torn with doubt, cries, "My God, what is my duty?" Seeing two duties which directly oppose and antagonize one another. Yet how can two things that are diametrically opposed be called by the same name?
"Stay," says a voice behind me, "surrender your own wishes and longings to the will of him who is dear to you, and to whom you are dear; the struggle has been good, for it has served to strengthen and ennoble your own spirit. Stay!" And then again, I hear another voice ever loud and clear, which says: "Go, work for the realization of your ideals; work for the future; work for the good of thousands who are bent beneath the yoke of unjust laws, who have a false conception of good and evil. Go suffer and fight. Your work will be for all time!" Which is the higher duty, the first or the last?
There are not many people in the world, never mind how closely they may be bound together by ties of blood, who love and understand one ​another as do my Father and I. There is much resemblance in our characters. We sympathize in everything with each other; there is only one point where we differ. Oh, why that one, why? Is it true, what is told us, that in the whole of wide, wide nature no two things are absolutely alike?
Father has borne so patiently with all my caprices; I have never heard a harsh or bitter word from his lips. He is always loving, always gentle. Through everything I feel his great love. Some time ago when I pressed him for a decision, he looked at me so sorrowfully, it was as if his sad eyes asked, "Are you in such haste to leave me, child?"
I turned away my head; I did not wish to see the dear true eyes; I wanted to be strong and not weak.
My heart almost broke once, when, as we two stood opposed to each other, father clasped me in his arms, and in a voice trembling with emotion said, "Must it be so, child? Is there no other way? Must it be?" And we stayed there, heart pressed to heart, looking into each other's eyes.
That was a heavy time, as heavy as a time can well be on this earth. It was shortly before Father's illness. Later, when father was recovering, Mother said to me, "Ah, child, give in to him."
"I cannot," I answered in a choking voice.
Since then Mother has never spoken about it to me. But when Father gives his consent, she will not withhold hers. She is all love and tenderness towards us, but that only makes the struggle the harder.
Pain nothing but pain, is all that we have brought to those true loving hearts.
# Letters of a Javanese princess/Chapter 25

XXV
30th September, 1901.
IN Preanger there are a great many women and girls who have been to school, and who speak Dutch. Most of those whose acquaintance we made talked Dutch with us because we do not know each other's language. Strange! that we should make an agreeable acquaintance with people of our own country, and of kindred race by means of a foreign tongue. Our intercourse was cordial, free and unrestrained. They are a cheerful people, full of jest and merriment. ··········
I have many things in my mind. Sometimes my fingers itch so to write down my thoughts, to be able to throw them in the faces of the multitude.
But what good would that do? People would shrug their shoulders, some of them would laugh, and most of them would take no notice whatever. One might as well be an idiot or a simpleton.
Perhaps it is better so, for who knows what harm a pen might do in the hands of an inexperienced, uncomprehending hothead.
Now after that tirade, something that you will think pleasant.
A short while ago the Quarteros, with another Comptroller, were at our house. The gentlemen were speaking of a Regent whom the strange comptroller knew well. "A fine man," we heard him say, and ​then, "No, he is not married, except to a woman whom he cannot present, just an ordinary woman of the people by whom he has several children. He does not intend to marry; he will marry no Raden-Ajoe because then he would have to send the woman away, or relegate her to a second place, in either case making her miserable, and he will not do that."
My heart leapt when I heard that. Then there is indeed such an one! Splendid! Mevrouw Quartero told us afterwards that both she and her husband glanced quickly at us, thinking at the same time, "Should the girls have heard that, how he will rise in their esteem?" So it is, too. We hope fervently that the Regent will always remain of the same mind, and that he will never be turned aside from his good resolution.
It would be a great pleasure to us to make his acquaintance; we hope that we may some day.
The young guard, regardless of sex, should band themselves together. We can each of us do something unaided, towards the uplifting and civilizing of our people, but if we were united our strength would be multiplied many times. By working together we could gather a goodly store of fruit.
In union there is strength, and power.
* ↑ To Mevrouw Abendanon.
* ↑ In the Preanger Regencies Sundanese is spoken; it bears the same relation to Javanese that Scotch did to English in the 17th century.
# Love Insurance

* information about this edition.
* related portals: Mystery, Adventure, Humor, Romance.
Filmed in 1919 as a silent comedy movie, later remade in 1925 as The Reckless Age and in sound era in 1940 as One Night in the Tropics. An impecunious lord comes to Lloyd's, the insurance agents, with an unique proposition:
   "Did I say the young woman was vivacious?" inquired Lord Harrowby. "She is. A thousand girls in one. Some untoward happening, and she might change her mind—in a flash." Silence within the room; outside the roar of New York and the clatter of the inevitable riveting machine making its points relentlessly. "That," said Lord Harrowby slowly, "is what I wish you to insure me against, Mr. Jephson."
Layout2
LOVE INSURANCE
Cynthia
LOVE INSURANCE
By EARL DERR BIGGERS Author of SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
FRANK SNAPP
INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright 1914 The Bobbs-Merrill Company
LOVE INSURANCE
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
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 1933, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 90 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
# Lost Galleon (1867)/Notes

NOTES.
The Lost Galleon.—As the custom on which the central incident of this legend is based may not be familiar to all readers, I will repeat here, that it is the habit of navigators to drop a day from their calendar in crossing westerly the 180th degree of Longitude W. of Greenwich, adding a day in coming East, and that the idea of the Lost Galleon had an origin as prosaic as the Log of the first China mail steamer from this port. The explanation of the custom and its astronomical relations belong rather to the usual text books, than poetical narration. If any reader thinks I have overdrawn the credulous superstitions of the ancient navigators, I refer him to the veracious statements of Moldonado, De Fonté, the later voyages of La Perouse and Anson, and the charts of 1640.
In the charts of "that day" Spanish navigators reckoned Longitude East 360 degrees from the meridian of the Isle of Ferro. For the sake of perspicuity before a modern audience, the more recent meridian of Madrid was substituted. The custom of dropping a day at some arbitrary point in crossing the Pacific westerly, I need not say, remains unaffected by any change of meridian.
I know not if any galleon was ever really missing. For 250 years they made an annual trip between Acapulco and Manila. It may be some satisfaction to the more severely practical of my readers to know, that, according to the best statistics of insurance, the loss during that period would be exactly three vessels and six hundredths of a vessel, which would certainly justify me in this summary disposition of one.
The Goddess.—Contributed to the Fair for the Ladies' Patriotic Fund of the Pacific.
Relieving Guard.—Thomas Starr King died March 4th, 1864.
The Pliocene Skull.—This extraordinary fossil is in the possession of Dr. Whitney, of the State Geological Survey. The poem was based on the following paragraph from the daily press of 1866:
"A Human Skull has been found in California, in the pliocene formation. This skull is the remnant not only of the earliest pioneer of this State, but the oldest known human being. . . . The skull was found in a shaft one hundred and fifty feet deep, two miles from Angel's, in Calaveras County, by a miner named James Matson, who gave it to Mr. Scribner, a merchant, who gave it to Dr. Jones, who sent it to the State Geological Survey. . . . The published volume of the State Survey on the Geology of California states, that man existed here contemporaneously with the mastodon; but this fossil proves that he was here before the mastodon was known to exist."
# Lost Galleon (1867)/Of One who Fell in Battle

OF ONE WHO FELL IN BATTLE.
By smoke-encumbered field and tangled lane, Down roads whose dust was laid with scarlet dew, Past guns dismounted, ragged heaps of slain, Dark moving files, and bright blades glancing through, All day the waves of battle swept the plain Up to the ramparts, where they broke and cast Thy young life quivering down, like foam before the blast.
Then sank the tumult. Like an angel's wing, Soft fingers swept thy pulses. The west wind Whispered fond voices, mingling with the ring Of Sabbath bells of Peace—such peace as brave men find, And only look for till the months shall bring Surcease of Wrong, and fail from out the land Bondage and shame, and Freedom's altars stand.
# Lost Galleon (1867)/Our Privilege

OUR PRIVILEGE.
Not ours, where battle smoke upcurls, And battle dews lie wet, To meet the charge that treason hurls By sword and bayonet.
Not ours to guide the fatal scythe The fleshless reaper wields; The harvest moon looks calmly down Upon our peaceful fields.
The long grass dimples on the hill, The pines sing by the sea, And Plenty, from her golden horn, Is pouring far and free. ​O brothers by the further sea, Think still our faith is warm; The same bright flag above us waves That swathed our baby form.
The same red blood that dyes your fields Here throbs in patriot pride; The blood that flowed when Lander fell, And Baker's crimson tide.
And thus apart our hearts keep time With every pulse ye feel, And Mercy's ringing gold shall chime With Valor's clashing steel.
# Lost Galleon (1867)/Legends of the Rhine

THE LEGENDS OF THE RHINE.
Beetling walls with ivy grown, Frowning heights of mossy stone— Turret, with its flaunting flag Flung from battlemented crag; Dungeon-keep and fortalice Looking down a precipice O'er the darkly glancing wave By the Lurlie-haunted cave; Robber haunt and maiden bower Home of Love, and Crime, and Power— That's the scenery, in fine, Of the Legends of the Rhine. ​One bold Baron, double-dyed, Bigamist and Parricide And, as most the stories run, Partner of the Evil One; Injured innocence in white— Fair, but idiotic quite— Wringing of her lily hands; Valor fresh from Paynim lands. Abbot ruddy, hermit pale Minstrel, fraught with many a tale, Are the actors that combine In the Legends of the Rhine.
Bell-mouthed flagons round a board, Suits of armor, shield and sword, Kerchief with its bloody stain, Ghosts of the untimely slain, Thunderclap and clanking chain, Headsman's block and shining axe, Thumbscrews, crucifixes, racks, Midnight-tolling chapel bell Heard across the gloomy fell. ​These and other pleasant facts, Are the properties that shine In the Legends of the Rhine.
Maledictions, whispered vows, Underneath the linden boughs; Murder, Bigamy and Theft, Travelers of goods bereft, Rapine, Pillage, Arson, Spoil— Everything but honest toil, Are the deeds that best define Every Legend of the Rhine:
That Virtue always meets reward, But quicker, when it wears a sword; That Providence has special care Of gallant knight and lady fair; That villians, as a thing of course Are always haunted by remorse— Is the moral I opine, Of the Legends of the Rhine.
# Lost Galleon (1867)/North Beach

NORTH BEACH.
AFTER SPENSER.
Lo! where the castle of bold Pfeiffer throws Its sullen shadow on the rolling tide— No more the home where joy and wealth repose, But now where wassailers in cells abide; See yon long quay that stretches far and wide, Well known to citizens as wharf of Meiggs; There each sweet Sabbath walks in maiden pride The pensive Margaret, and brave Pat, whose legs Encased in broadcloth oft keep time with Peg's.
Here cometh oft the tender nursery maid, While in her ear her love his tale doth pour; ​Meantime her infant doth her charge evade, And rambleth sagely on the sandy shore, Till the sly sea-crab, low in ambush laid, Seizeth his leg and biteth him full sore. Ah me! what sounds the shuddering echoes bore, When his small treble mixed with Ocean's roar.
Hard by, there stands an ancient hostelrie, And at its side a garden, where the bear, The stealthy catamount, and coon, agree To work deceit on all who gather there; And when Augusta—that unconscious fair— With nuts and apples plyeth Bruin free, Lo! the green parrot claweth her back hair, And the grey monkey grabbeth fruits that she On her gay bonnet wears, and laugheth loud in glee!
# Lost Galleon (1867)/Relieving Guard—March 4th, 1864

RELIEVING GUARD—MARCH 4th, 1864.
Came the Relief. "What, Sentry, ho! How passed the night through thy long waking!" "Cold, cheerless, dark—as may befit The hour before the dawn is breaking."
"No sight? no sound?" "No; nothing save The plover from the marshes calling; And in yon Western sky, about An hour ago, a Star was falling."
"A star? There's nothing strange in that." "No, nothing; but, above the thicket, Somehow it seemed to me that God Somewhere had just relieved a picket.
# Lost Galleon (1867)/Second Review of the Grand Army

A SECOND REVIEW OF THE GRAND ARMY.
I read last night of the Grand Review In Washington's chiefest avenue— Two Hundred Thousand men in blue I think they said was the number— Till I seemed to hear their trampling feet, The bugle blast and the drum's quick beat, The clatter of hoofs in the stony street, The cheers of people who came to greet, And the thousand details that to repeat Would only my verse encumber— Till I fell in a reverie, sad and sweet, And then to a fitful slumber. ​When, lo! in a vision I seemed to stand In the lonely Capitol. On each hand Far stretched the portico, dim and grand Its columns ranged like a martial band Of sheeted spectres, whom some command Had called to a last reviewing; And the streets of the city were white and bare, No footfall echoed across the square, But out of the misty midnight air I heard in the distance a trumpet blare, And the wandering night-winds seemed to bear The sound of a far tattooing.
Then I held my breath with fear and dread, For into the square, with a brazen tread, There rode a figure whose stately head O'erlooked the review that morning, That never bowed from its firm-set seat When the living column passed its feet, Yet now rode steadily up the street To the phantom bugle's warning; ​Till it reached the Capitol square, and wheeled, And there in the moonlight stood revealed A well-known form that in State and field Had led our patriot sires; Whose face was turned to the sleeping camp, Afar through the river's fog and damp That showed no flicker, nor waning lamp, Nor wasted bivouac fires.
And I saw a phantom army come, With never a sound of fife or drum, But keeping time to a throbbing hum Of wailing and lamentation; The martyred heroes of Malvern Hill, Of Gettysburg and Chancellorsville, The men whose wasted figures fill The patriot graves of the nation.
And there came the nameless dead—the men Who perished in fever swamp and fen, The slowly-starved of the prison-pen; And, marching beside the others, Came the dusky martyrs of Pillow's fight, ​With limbs enfranchised and bearing bright; I thought—perhaps 'twas the pale moonlight— They looked as white as their brothers!
And so all night marched the Nation's dead With never a banner above them spread, Nor a badge, nor a motto brandishéd; No mark—save the bare uncovered head Of the silent bronze Reviewer— With never an arch save the vaulted sky, With never a flower save those that lie On the distant graves—for love could buy No gift that was purer or truer.
So all night long swept the strange array, So all night long till the morning gray I watched for one who had passed away, With a reverent awe and wonder— Till a blue cap waved in the length'ning line, And I knew that one who was kin of mine Had come, and I spake—and lo! that sign Awakened me from my slumber.
# Lost Galleon (1867)/On a Pen of Thomas Starr King

ON A PEN OF THOMAS STARR KING.
This is the reed the dead musician dropped, With tuneful magic in its sheath still hidden; The prompt allegro of its music stopped, Its melodies, unbidden.
But who shall finish the unfinished strain, Or wake the instrument to awe and wonder, And bid the slender barrel breathe again— An organ-pipe of thunder?
His pen! what humbler memories cling about Its golden curves; what shapes and laughing graces Slipped from its point when his full heart went out In smiles and courtly phrases. ​The truth half-jesting, half in earnest flung— The word of cheer, with recognition in it; The note of alms, whose golden speech outrung The golden gift within it.
But all in vain the enchanter's wand we wave; No stroke of ours recalls his magic vision; The incantation that its power gave Sleeps with the dead magician.