OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 4/Chapter 9

CHAP. IX.
What a chapter of chances, said my father, turning himself about upon the first landing, as he and my uncle Toby were going down stairs—what a long chapter of chances do the ​events of this world lay open to us! Take pen and ink in hand, brother Toby, and calculate it fairly—I know no more of calculations than this balluster, said my uncle Toby, (striking short of it with his crutch, and hitting my father a desperate blow souse upon his shin-bone)—'Twas a hundred to one—cried my uncle Toby.—I thought, quoth my father, (rubbing his shin) you had known nothing of calculations, brother Toby.—'Twas a meer chance, said my uncle Toby—Then it adds one to the chapter—replied my father.
The double success of my father's repartees tickled off the pain of his shin at once—it was well it so fell out—(chance! again)—or the world to this day had never known the subject of my father's calculation—to guess it—there was no ​chance—What a lucky chapter of chances has this turned out! for it has saved me the trouble of writing one express, and in truth I have anew already upon my hands without it—Have not I promised the world a chapter of knots? two chapters upon the right and the wrong end of a woman? a chapter upon whiskers? a chapter upon wishes?—a chapter of noses?—No, I have done that—a chapter upon my uncle Toby's modesty: to say nothing of a chapter upon chapters, which I will finish before I sleep—by my great grandfather's whiskers, I shall never get half of 'em through this year.
Take pen and ink in hand, and calculate it fairly, brother Toby, said my father, and it will turn out a million to one, that of all the parts of the body, the edge ​of the forceps should have the ill luck just to fall upon and break down that one part, which should break down the fortunes of our house with it.
It might have been worse, replied my uncle Toby—I don't comprehend, said my father—Suppose the hip had presented, replied my uncle Toby, as Dr. Slop foreboded.
My father reflected half a minute—looked down—touched the middle of his forehead slightly with his finger—
—True, said he.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 4/Chapter 30

CHAP. XXX.
— And pray, said my uncle Toby, leaning upon Yorick, as he and my father were helping him leisurely down the stairs—don't be terrified, madam, this stair-case conversation is not so long as the last—And pray, Yorick, said my uncle Toby, which way is this ​said affair of Tristram at length settled by these learned men? Very satisfactorily, replied Yorick; no mortal, Sir, has any concern with it—for Mrs. Shandy the mother is nothing at all akin to him—and as the mother's is the surest side—Mr. Shandy, in course, is still less than nothing—In short, he is not as much akin to him, Sir, as I am—
—That may well be, said my father, shaking his head.
—Let the learned say what they will, there must certainly, quoth my uncle Toby, have been some sort of consanguinity betwixt the duchess of Suffolk and her son—
The vulgar are of the same opinion, quoth Yorick, to this hour.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 4/Chapter 6

CHAP. VI.
When my uncle Toby first mentioned the grenadier, my father, I said, fell down with his nose flat to the quilt, and as suddenly as if my uncle ​Toby had shot him; but it was not added, that every other limb and member of my father instantly relapsed with his nose into the same precise attitude in which he lay first described; so that when corporal Trim left the room, and my father found himself disposed to rise off the bed,—he had all the little preparatory movements to run over again, before he could do it.—Attitudes are nothing, madam,—'tis the transition from one attitude to another—like the preparation and resolution of the discord into harmony, which is all in all.
For which reason my father played the same jig over again with his toe upon the floor—pushed the chamber-pot still a little farther within the valance—gave a hem—raised himself up upon his elbow—and was just beginning to address himself to my uncle Toby—when recol​lecting the unsuccessfulness of his first effort in that attitude,—he got upon his legs, and in making the third turn across the room, he stopped short before my uncle Toby; and laying the three first fingers of his right-hand in the palm of his left, and stooping a little, he addressed himself to my uncle Toby as follows.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 4/Chapter 7

CHAP. VII.
When I reflect, brother Toby, upon man; and take a view of that dark side of him which represents his life as open to so many causes of trouble—when I consider, brother Toby, how oft we eat the bread of affliction, and that we are born to it, as to the portion of our inheritance—I was born to nothing, quoth my uncle Toby, inter- ​rupting my father—but my commission. Zooks! said my father, did not my uncle leave you a hundred and twenty pounds a year?—What could I have done without it? replied my uncle Toby.—That's another concern, said my father testily—But I say, Toby, when one runs over the catalogue of all the cross reckonings and sorrowful items with which the heart of man is overcharged, 'tis wonderful by what hidden resources the mind is enabled to stand it out, and bear itself up, as it does against the impositions laid upon our nature.—'Tis by the assistance of Almighty God, cried my uncle Toby, looking up, and pressing the palms of his hands close together—'tis not from our own strength, brother Shandy—a sentinel in a wooden centry-box, might as well pretend to stand it out against a detachment of fifty men,—we are upheld ​by the grace and the assistance of the best of Beings.
—That is cutting the knot, said my father, instead of untying it.—But give me leave to lead you, brother Toby, a little deeper into this mystery.
With all my heart, replied my uncle Toby.
My father instantly exchanged the attitude he was in, for that in which Socrates is so finely painted by Raffael in his school of Athens; which your connoisseurship knows is so exquisitely imagined, that even the particular manner of the reasoning of Socrates is expressed by it—for he holds the fore-finger of his left-hand between the fore-finger and the thumb of his right, and seems as if he ​was saying to the libertine he is reclaiming—"You grant me this—and this: and this, and this, I don't ask of you—they follow of themselves in course."
So stood my father, holding fast his fore-finger betwixt his finger and his thumb, and reasoning with my uncle Toby as he sat in his old fringed chair, valanced around with party-coloured worsted bobs—O Garrick! what a rich scene of this would thy exquisite powers make! and how gladly would I write such another to avail myself of thy immortality, and secure my own behind it.
# The New International Encyclopædia/San Joaquin (river)

Edition of 1905. See also San Joaquin River on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ SAN JOAQUIN. A river of California, draining the southern half of the great central valley between the Coast Range and the Sierra Nevada (Map: California, C 3). It rises in the latter range and flows first southwest to its junction with the intermittent outlet of Tulare Lake, then northwest till it unites with the Sacramento River and enters the Bay of San Francisco, whence its waters flow through the Golden Gate to the Pacific Ocean. The length of the river is about 350 miles. It receives numerous tributaries from the mountains on either side, one of which, the Merced, flows through the famous Yosemite Valley. The San Joaquin is navigable at all seasons to Stockton, 50 miles.
# The New International Encyclopædia/San Joaquin (town)

Edition of 1905. See also San Joaquin, Iloilo on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ SAN JOAQUIN, Hō′ȧ-kēn′. A town of Panay, Philippines, in the Province of Iloilo, situated on the coast, about 30 miles southwest of Iloilo (Map: Philippine Islands, G 9). Population estimated, in 1899, at 13,918.
# The New International Encyclopædia/San Francisco Bay

Edition of 1905. See also San Francisco Bay on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ SAN FRANCISCO BAY. An inlet of the Pacific Ocean indenting the coast of California (Map: California, B 3). It is 42 miles long and from 5 to 12 miles wide, and runs nearly parallel with the coast, being separated from the ocean by a peninsula 7 miles wide, at the north end of which is the city of San Francisco. North of the city the Golden Gate, a passage one mile wide and 4 miles long, connects the bay with the ocean. San Francisco Bay is a beautiful sheet of water completely shut in by wooded mountains 1000 to over 2000 feet high. The water is generally shallow far out from the shores, but the Golden Gate and the part of the bay adjoining San Francisco as well as a central channel running through its whole length have a depth of 30 to over 100 feet. On the north the bay communicates with the Bay of San Pablo, which is of circular form with a diameter of 10 miles, and which further communicates through the Straits of Karquines with Suison Bay. The latter receives the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers, so that the drainage of the entire western slope of the Sierra Nevada passes out through the Golden Gate.
# The New International Encyclopædia/San Ignacio de Agaña

Edition of 1905. See also the disclaimer.
​ SAN IGNACIO DE AGAÑA, sän ē̇g-nä′thē̇-ō̇ dā̇ ȧ-gä′nyȧ. See Agaña.
# The New International Encyclopædia/San Ildefonso

Edition of 1905. See also San Ildefonso on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ SAN ILDEFONSO, ē̇l′dā̇-fō̇n′sō̇, or La Granja. A town in the Province of Segovia, Spain, situated 34 miles northwest of Madrid at an elevation of nearly 4000 feet, in the region of romantic beauty on the northern slope of the Sierra de Guadarrama (Map: Spain, C 2). The town itself is beautifully laid out with fine plazas, promenades, and gardens, and numerous monumental fountains; it has been called the Versailles of Spain. It owes its existence to the splendid palace built there in 1721-24 by Philip V., which has since been a summer residence of the Spanish Court. It is a beautiful building, the entire façade of which is faced by a row of tall columns reaching to the roof. The interior is luxuriously furnished, containing several hundred fine paintings and sculptures. The palace is surrounded by magnificent gardens with lakes, fountains, and statues. Here occurred the so-called ‘Revolution of La Granja,’ on the 12th of August, 1836, when some of the Liberal leaders compelled Queen Christina to sign a decree restoring the Constitution of 1812. Population, in 1900, 3444. See San Ildefonso, Treaty of.
# The New International Encyclopædia/San Jacinto, Battle of

Edition of 1905. See also Battle of San Jacinto on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ SAN JACIN′TO, Battle of. The final battle in the war for Texan independence, fought near San Jacinto Bay, Texas, April 21, 1836, between about 740 Texans, under General Houston, and about 1400 Mexicans, under Santa Anna. On April 20th the opposing forces took up positions about one mile apart, and after some preliminary skirmishing the battle took place on the afternoon of the following day. It was hardly more than a sharp charge by the Texans, who ​rushed on with the cry “Remember the Alamo,” and quickly overcame the Mexicans. Santa Anna fled, but was afterwards captured. The Texans lost only about 30 in killed and wounded; the Mexicans, 1360 in killed, wounded, and captured.
# The New International Encyclopædia/San Fernando (Spain)

Edition of 1905. See also San Fernando, Cádiz on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ SAN FERNANDO, fĕr-nän′dṓ (formerly Isla de Leon) . A town of Southwestern Spain, in the province of Cadiz, on the island of Leon, near the inner Bay of Cadiz, seven miles southeast of the city of that name (Map: Spain, B 4). It is a handsome town, but is surrounded by salt marshes. The principal public building, the Casa Consistorial, is one of the finest of its kind in Spain. There is an important naval academy, and outside the city stands a large and well-equipped astronomical observatory. The industries are represented by salt works, flour mills, an iron foundry, and manufactures of cordage and sails. A mile to the north lies the port of La Carraca, with wharves, docks, and an arsenal. Population, in 1887, 20,287; in 1900, 29,802.
# The New International Encyclopædia/San Ildefonso, Treaty of

Edition of 1905. See also Third Treaty of San Ildefonso on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ SAN ILDEFONSO, Treaty of. A secret treaty between France and Spain, negotiated in October, 1800. France agreed to procure in Italy for the Duke of Parma, the son-in-law of Carlos IV. of Spain, a kingdom which should have a population of from 1,000,000 to 1,200,000, while Spain agreed to retrocede to France, six months after France had carried out her part of the agreement, “the colony or province of Louisiana with the same extent that it had in the hands of Spain and when France owned it, and as it should be according to subsequent treaties between Spain and other powers.” In addition the treaty contained several less important provisions. The preliminary treaty was signed on October 1st, and the exchange of ratifications took place on the 30th of the same month. The treaty was modified in some respects by a new treaty negotiated at Aranjuez, March 21, 1801 (ratification being exchanged April 11), the immediate transfer of Louisiana being provided for. The texts of the two treaties may be found in De Clercq, Recueil des traités de la France, vol. i. (Paris, 1864).
# The New International Encyclopædia/San Isidro

Edition of 1905. See also San Isidro, Nueva Ecija on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ SAN ISIDRO, ē̇-sē′drō̇. The capital of the Province of Nueva Ecija, in Luzon, Philippines (Map: Philippine Islands, E 4). It is situated on the Rio Grande de la Pampanga, 48 miles north of Manila, has a telegraph station and good road connections with Manila and other cities of Central Luzon. Population (estimated), in 1899, 7056.
# The Original Fables of La Fontaine/The Dog Who carried His Master's Dinner

XVII
THE DOG WHO CARRIED HIS MASTER'S DINNER
(Book VIII.—No, 7)
Our hands are no more proof against gold than our eyes are proof against beauty. There are but few who guard their treasures with care enough.
A certain dog who had been taught to carry to his master the mid-day meal was one day trotting along with the savoury burden slung around his neck. He was tempted to take a taste himself; but knew that it would be wrong to do so, and being a temperate, self- governed dog he refrained. We of the human race allow ourselves to be tempted by covetable things often enough; but, strange as it is, there seems to be more difficulty in teaching mankind to resist temptation than there is in teaching dogs to do so.
On this particular day the dog was met by a mastiff who at once wanted the dinner, but did not find it so easy to capture as he thought; for our dog put it down and stood guard over it. There was a mighty tussle. Soon others arrived; curs that were used to knocks and kicks while picking up a living in the streets. Seeing that he should be badly over-matched, and that his master's dinner was in danger of being devoured by ​the crowd, he bethought himself how he too might have his share, if shared it must be. So he very wisely exclaimed, "No fighting, gentlemen, my bit will suffice me. Do as you please with the rest." With these words he snapped up a portion, upon which all the rest began to pull and jostle to their utmost and feasted merrily.
In this I seem to see the picture of one of those unfortunate towns or states which occasionally have suffered from the greed of their ministers and officials. Each functionary has an eye to his own advantage, and the smartest sets a pattern for the others. The way in which the public funds disappear is amusing. If one sheriff or provost, having a scruple of conscience, finds a trifling argument in defence of the public interest the others show him that he is a fool if he utters half a word. So, with a very little trouble, he gives way, and often becomes the leading offender.
# The Original Fables of La Fontaine/The Cobbler and the Financier

XV
THE COBBLER AND THE FINANCIER
(Book VIII.—No. 2)
There was once a cobbler who was so light hearted that he sang from morning to night. It was wonderful to watch him at his work, and more wonderful still to hear his runs and trills. He was in fact happier than the Seven Sages.
This merry soul had a neighbour who was exactly the reverse. He sang little and slept less; for he was a financier, and made of money, as they say. Whenever it happened that after a sleepless night he would doze off in the early morning, the cobbler, who was always up betimes, would wake him up again with his joyful songs. "Ha!" thought the man of wealth, "what a misfortune it is that one cannot buy sleep in the open market as one buys food and drink!" Then an idea ​came to him. He invited the cobbler to his house, where he asked him some questions.
"Tell me, Master Gregory, what do you suppose your earnings amount to in a year?"
"In a year," laughed the cobbler, "that's more than I know. I never keep accounts that way, nor even keep one day from another. So long as I can make both ends meet, that's good enough for me!"
"Really!" replied the financier. "But what can you earn in one day?"
"Oh, sometimes more and sometimes less. The mischief of it is that there are so many fête days and high-days and fast-days crowded into the year, on which, as the priest tells us, it is wicked to work at all; and worse still he keeps on finding some new saint or other to give weight to his sermons. If it were not for that, cobbling would be a fine paying game."
At this the wealthy man laughed. "Look here, my friend, to-day I'll lift you to the seats of the mighty! Here is a hundred pounds. Guard them and use them with care."
When the cobbler held the bag of money in his hand he imagined that it must be as much as would be coined in a hundred years.
Returning home he buried the cash in his cellar. Alas! he buried his joy with it, for there were no more songs. From the moment he came into possession of this wealth, the love of which is the root of all evil, his voice left him, and not only his voice, but his sleep also. And in place of these came anxiety, suspicion, and alarms; guests which abode with him constantly. All day he kept his eye on the cellar door. Did a cat ​make a noise in the night, then for a certainty that cat was after his money.
At last, in despair, the wretched cobbler ran to the financier whom he now no longer kept awake. "Oh, give me back my joy in life, my songs, my sleep; and take your hundred pounds again."
# The Original Fables of La Fontaine/The Dairy-Woman and the Pail of Milk

X
THE DAIRY-WOMAN AND THE PAIL OF MILK
(Book VII.—No. 10)
Overtoppled the milk.
The farce became known to the whole countryside, and people called Perrette by the name of "Milkpail" ever after.
Who has never talked wildly? Who has never built castles in Spain? Wise men as well as milkmaids; sages and fools, all have waking dreams and find them sweet! Our senses are carried away by some flattering falsehood, and then wealth, honours, and beauty seem ours to command.
Alone with my thoughts I challenge the bravest. I dethrone monarchs and the people rejoicing crown me instead, showering diadems upon my head. Then lo! a little accident happens to bring me back to my senses, and I am Poor Jack as before.
# The Original Fables of La Fontaine/The Cat and the Fox

XXVIII
THE CAT AND THE FOX
(Book IX.—No. 14)
The cat and the fox, in the manner of good little saints, started out upon a pilgrimage. They were both humbugs, arch-hypocrites, two downright highwaymen, who for the expenses of their journey indemnified themselves by seeing who could devour the most fowls and gobble the most cheese.
The way was long and therefore wearisome, so they shortened it by arguing. Argumentation is a great help. Without it one would go to sleep. Our pilgrims shouted themselves hoarse. Then having argued themselves out, they talked of other things.
At length the fox said to the cat, "You pretend that you're very clever. Do you know as much as I? I have a hundred ruses up my sleeve."
"No," answered the cat, "I have but one; but that is always ready to hand, and I maintain that it is worth a thousand other dodges."
Then they fell again to disputing one against the other on each side of the question, the whys and the wherefores, raising their voices higher and higher. Presently the sudden appearance of a pack of hounds stopped their noise.
The cat said to the fox, "Now, my friend, ransack ​that cunning brain of yours for one of your thousand ruses. Fetch down from your sleeve one of those certain stratagems. As for me, this is my dodge." So saying, he bounded to a tall tree and climbed to its top with alacrity.
The fox tried a hundred futile doublings; ran into a hundred holes; put the hounds at fault a hundred times; tried everywhere to find a safe place of retreat, but everywhere failed between being smoked out of one and driven out of another by the hounds. Finally, as he came out of a hole two nimble dogs set upon him and strangled him at the first grip.
Too many expedients may spoil the business. One loses time in choosing between them and in trying too many. Have only one; but let it be a good one.
# The Original Fables of La Fontaine/The Dog with His Ears cropped

XXXI
THE DOG WITH HIS EARS CROPPED
(Book X.—No. 9)
"What have I done to be treated in this way? Mutilated by my own master! A nice state to be in! Dare I present myself before other dogs? O ye kings over the animals, or rather tyrants of them, would any creature do the same to you?"
Such were the lamentations of poor Fido, a young house-dog, whilst those who were busy cropping his ears remained quite untouched by his piercing and dolorous howls.
Fido believed himself to be ruined for life; but he very shortly found that he was a gainer by the maiming. For being by nature disposed to pilfer from his companions, it would come within his experience to have many misadventures wherein his ears would be torn in a hundred places.
Aggressive dogs always have ragged ears. The less they have for other dogs' teeth to fasten upon the better.
​When one has but a single weak place to defend, one protects it against an onset. Witness Master Fido armed with a spiked collar, and having no more ears to catch hold of than are on my hand. Even a wolf would not have known where to take him.