OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Feline Follies

* related portals: Cartoons, Silent cartoons.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, Wikidata item.
Cast and Crew :
| Crew ||
| Production company | Pat Sullivan Studio |
| Director | Otto Messmer (d. 1983) |
| Based on available information, the latest crew member that is relevant to international copyright laws died in 1983, meaning that this film may be in the public domain in countries and jurisdictions with 40 years p.m.a. or less, as well as in the United States. ||
by Pat Sullivan
Famous PlayersLasky Corporation
Pussyville has its "Follies" as well as Broadway. Its fads, foibles, and frivolities are as brilliant and as mischievous as the Great White Way brand. And the feline version has a plot, categorically speaking.
MEOW
Master Tom, who scalps unwary mice and breaks feline hearts with equal assurance and dispatch meets Miss Kitty White and capitulates at sight.
Master Tom performs his "toilette" with all the care and skill of a debutante.
And while the cat's away-------!
They select as a rendezvous that hallowed spot of feline lovers: the Back Fence---in a thickly populated neighborhood, of course.
I'VE ONLY GOT NINE LIVES TO LIVE- AN' I'LL LIVE THEM ALL FOR YOU!
CAN THAT NOISE!!
    SCAT!!
                VAMOOSE!!
    GIT OUTER THAT!
             BEAT IT!!
TOMORROW NIGHT AT THE ASH CAN!
The trysting place.
SHE'S LATE!
          GARBAGE
SHOOT SOMETHING LIVELY!
          GARBAGE
JAM
BEAT IT!
       MEOW!SP-T-T
             MEOW!!
'LO MUM!ME-OW!!
                   'LO' MA!
GAS WORKS
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
# Felix Holt, the Radical

Felix Holt, the Radical (1866) is a social novel written by George Eliot about political disputes in a small English town at the time of the First Reform Act of 1832. The author later wrote Felix Holt's Address to Workingmen. Warning: template has been deprecated.
FELIX HOLT
THE RADICAL
BY
GEORGE ELIOT
AUTHOR OF 'ADAM BEDE,' ETC.
IN THREE VOLUMES
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCLXVI
"Upon the midlands now the industrious muse doth fall, The shires which we the heart of England well may call. ******** My native country thou, which so brave spirits hast bred, If there be virtues yet remaining in the earth, Or any good of thine thou bred'st into my birth, Accept it as thine own, whilst now I sing of thee, Of all thy later brood the unworthiest though I be."
—Drayton: Polyolbion.

## Volume III.

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
# Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 8 1823/The Sleeper on Marathon

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 8, Page 532
THE SLEEPER ON MARATHON.
I lay upon the solemn plain,
 And by the funeral mound,
Where those who died not there in vain,
 Their place of sleep had found.
'Twas silent where the free blood gush'd,
 When Persia came array'd,—
So many a voice had there been hush'd,
 So many a footstep stay'd!
I slumber'd on the lonely spot,
 So sanctified by Death!
I slumber'd—but my rest was not
 As theirs who lay beneath.
For on my dreams, that shadowy hour,
 They rose—the chainless Dead—
All arm'd they sprung, in joy, in power,
 Up from their grassy bed.
I saw their spears, on that red field,
 Flash, as in time gone by!
Chased to the seas, without his shield,
 I saw the Persian fly!
I woke—the sudden trumpet's blast
 Call'd to another fight:—
From visions of our glorious past,
 Who doth not wake in might?F. H.
# Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 8 1823/The Treasures of the Deep

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 8, Page 160
THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP.
What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells?
Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious Main!
—Pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-colour'd shells,
Bright things which gleam unreck'd of, and in vain.
—Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea!
We ask not such from thee.
Yet more, the Depths have more!—What wealth untold
Far down, and shining through their stillness lies!
Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold,
Won from ten thousand royal Argosies.
—Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful Main!
Earth claims not these again!
Yet more, the Depths have more!—Thy waves have roll'd
Above the cities of a world gone by!
Sand hath fill'd up the palaces of old,
Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry!
—Dash o'er them, Ocean! in thy scornful play,
Man yields them to decay!
Yet more! the Billows and the Depths have more!
High hearts and brave are gather'd to thy breast!
They hear not now the booming waters roar,
The battle-thunders will not break their rest.
—Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave—
Give back the true and brave!
Give back the lost and lovely!—those for whom
The place was kept at board and hearth so long;
The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom,
And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song!
Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown,
—But all is not thine own!
To thee the love of woman hath gone down,
Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head,
O'er youth's bright locks and beauty's flowery crown;
—Yet must thou hear a voice—Restore the dead!
Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee,
—Restore the Dead, thou Sea!
# Fifty Years Ago

For the 4th of July, 1826.
Fifty years have rolled away, Since that high, heroic day, When our Fathers, in the fray,  Struck the conquering blow! Praise to them—the Bold who spoke;— Praise to them—the Brave who broke Stern Oppression's galling yoke,  Fifty years ago!
Pour the wine of sacrifice, Let the grateful anthem rise,— Shall we e'er resign the prize?  Never—never—no! Hearts and hands shall guard those rights Bought on Freedom's battle heights, Where he fixed his signal lights,  Fifty years ago!
Swear it!—by the Mighty Dead,— Those who counseled, those who led;— By the blood your Fathers shed,  By your Mothers' woe;— Swear it!—by the living few,— Those whose breasts were scarred for you, When to Freedom's ranks they flew,  Fifty years ago!
By the joys that cluster round, By our vales with plenty crowned, By our hill-tops—holy ground,  Rescued from the foe,— Where of old the Indian strayed, Where of old the Pilgrim prayed, Where the Patriot drew his blade,  Fifty years ago!
Should again the war-trump peal, There shall Indian firmness seal Pilgrim faith and patriot zeal,  Prompt to strike the blow;— There shall valor's work be done; Like the Sire shall be the Son, Where the fight was waged and won,  Fifty years ago!
# Fifty Years in Chains, or the Life of an American Slave

Contents
FIFTY YEARS IN CHAINS;
OR,
THE LIFE OF AN
AMERICAN SLAVE.
"My God! can such things be? Hast Thou not said that whatsoe'er is done Unto thy weakest and thy humblest one, Is even done to Thee?" — Whittier.
New-York:
H. DAYTON, PUBLISHER,
107 NASSAU STREET.
INDIANA: INDIANAPOLIS — DAYTON & ASHER.
1859.
Copyright
Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1858, by
H. DAYTON,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York
J. J. Reed, printer & stereotyper 43 Centre St. N.Y.
Preface
PREFACE.
The story which follows is "true" in every particular. Responsible citizens of a neighboring State can vouch for the reality of the narrative. The language of the slave has not at all times been strictly adhered to, as a half century of bondage unfitted him for literary work. The subject of the story "is still a slave" by the laws of this country, and it would net be wise to reveal his name.
Contents
CONTENTS
| Chapter I. | Separated from my mother | 9 |
| Chapter II. | Some short time after my wife | 25 |
| Chapter III. | It was manifest that I was now | 49 |
| Chapter IV. | It was now about the middle of June | 73 |
| Chapter V. | We had been stationed in the old | 93 |
| Chapter VI. | By the laws of the United States | 110 |
| Chapter VII. | The overseer was calling over the names | 124 |
| Chapter VIII. | At the time of which I now speak | 144 |
| Chapter IX. | It is impossible to reconcile the mind | 148 |
| Chapter X. | I have before observed that the | 193 |
| Chapter XI. | Early in March, my seine being now | 211 |
| Chapter XII. | After this the fishing season passed | 240 |
| Chapter XIII. | An affair was now in progress | 262 |
| Chapter XIV. | The country I now lived in was new | 278 |
| Chapter XV. | My master died in the month of May | 307 |
| Chapter XVI. | I could not believe it possible | 324 |
| Chapter XVII. | On the twenty-fourth of October | 344 |
| Chapter XVIII. | The month of November is, in all years | 360 |
| Chapter XIX. | In the month of June 18 | 390 |
| Chapter XX. | The name of my new master was | 407 |
# Fisher v. Pace/Dissent Rutledge

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
* Dissenting Opinions Douglas Murphy Rutledge
United States Supreme Court
336 U.S. 155
Fisher v. Pace
Argued: and Submitted Dec. 9, 1948. --- Decided: Feb 7, 1949
Mr. Justice RUTLEDGE, dissenting.
Without recounting further than is done in other opinions the facts of this unfortunate episode, I have concluded that the record here discloses answers or remarks made by petitioner to the court which, in some instances, may well have justified punishment for contempt, but for one circumstance. That is, I regret to say, the con lusion to which I have been forced from the record as a whole that in the course of the colloquy and especially in the rapid succession of fines, commitment to jail, and order for removal from the courtroom, as well as in the unjudicial language employed by the judge, the trial court acted in the heat of temper and not in that calm control which the fair administration of judicial office commands under all circumstances.
Lawyers owe a large, but not an obsequious, duty of respect to the court in its presence. But their breach of this obligation in no case justifies correction by an act or acts from the bench intemperate in character, overriding judgment. Since the case comes here upon the sequence of events taken as an entirety, I do not undertake to separate one portion of the judgment from another. Accordingly, as the case stands here, I must take the entire sentence as infected with the fault I have noted. It follows, in my view, that the judgment should be reversed. Whatever the provocation, there can be no due process in trial in the absence of calm judgment and action,untinged with anger, from the bench.

## Notes

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
# Fisher v. Pace

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.

## Dissenting Opinions

    Douglas
    Murphy
    Rutledge
United States Supreme Court
336 U.S. 155
Fisher v. Pace
Argued: and Submitted Dec. 9, 1948. --- Decided: Feb 7, 1949
See 336 U.S. 928, 69 S.Ct. 653.
Mr. R. Dean Moorhead, of Austin, Tex., for petitioner.
Mr. Quentin Keith, of Beaumont, Tex., for respondent.
Mr. Justice REED delivered the opinion of the Court.

## Notes

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
# Fisher v. Rule

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
248 U.S. 314
Fisher v. Rule
Argued: Nov. 22, 1918. --- Decided: Jan 7, 1919
Messrs. Homer Guerry, of Washington, D. C., and Allen G. Fisher, of Chadron, Neb., for appellant.
Mr. Samuel Herrick, of Washington, D. C., for appellee.
Mr. Justice VAN DEVANTER delivered the opinion of the Court.

## Notes

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
# Fisher v. Shropshire

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
147 U.S. 133
Fisher v. Shropshire

## Notes

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
# Fisher v. Mayor and Council of the City of New Orleans

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
218 U.S. 438
Fisher v. Mayor and Council of the City of New Orleans
Argued: November 9, 10, 1910. --- Decided: November 28, 1910
Mr. Charles Louque for plaintiffs in error.
Messrs. St. Clair Adams and I. D. Moore for defendant in error.
Mr. Justice Holmes delivered the opinion of the court:

## Notes

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
# Five English popular songs

FIVE ENGLISH Popular Songs.
Betsey Baker. Ye mariners of England. The dashing white Sergeant. Go where glory waits. The pilgrim of love.
KILMARNOCK: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
* Betsey Baker
* Ye mariners of England.
* The dashing white Sergeant
* Go where glory waits
* The pilgrim of love
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
# Five English popular songs/Betsey Baker

POPULAR SONGS.
BETSEY BAKER.
Tune.—‘Head man at Mrs. Grundy’s.’
From noise and bustle far away hard work my time employing, How happily did I pass each day, content and health enjoying; The birds did sing and so did I, as I trudg’d o’er each acre, I never knew what ’twas to sigh till I saw Betsey Baker.
At church I met her drest so neat, one Sunday in hot weather, With love I found my heart did beat, as we sung psalms together, So piously she hung her head, the while her voice did shake, ah! I thought if ever I did wed, ’twould be with Betsey Baker.
From her side I could not budge, and sure I thought no harm on’t, My elbow then she gave a nudge, and bade me mind the garment; ​When church was over out she walk'd, but I did overtake her, Determin’d I would not be baulk’d,—I spoke to Betsey Baker.
Her manners were genteel and cool, I found on conversation, She’d just come from boarding school, and finish’d her education; But love made me speak out quite free; says I, I’ve many an acre, Will you give me your company? ‘I sha’nt,’ said Betsey Baker.
All my entreaties she did slight, and I was forc’d to leave her, I got no sleep all that there night, for love had brought a fever; The doctor came, he smelt his cane, with long face like a quaker, Said he, ‘young man pray where’s thy pain,’ says I, ‘ Sir, Betsey Baker.’
Because I was not bad enough, he bolus’d and he pill’d me, And if I had taken all his stuff, I think he must ha’ kill’d me; I put an end to all the strife, ’twixt him and the undertaker, And what d’ye think ’twas saved my life, why thoughts of Betsey Baker.
​I then again to Betsey went, once more with love attack’d her, But meantime she got acquainted wi’ a ramping mad play-actor, If she would have him he did say a lady he would make her, He gammon’d her to run away, and I lost Betsey Baker.
I fretted very much to find my hopes of love so undone, And mother thought ’twould ease my mind if I came up to London; But tho’ I strive another way, my thoughts will ne’er forsake her, I dream all night, and think all day of cruel Betsey Baker.
# Five Classics

* related portals: Confucianism.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, Wikidata item.
The Five Classics (五經, Wǔjīng) is a corpus of five ancient Chinese books used by Confucianism as the basis of study. According to tradition, they were edited by Confucius, apart from the Spring and Autumn Annals of the State of Lu, which he wrote himself. There was originally a sixth classic—the Yue or Book of Music—but it was entirely lost before the Han dynasty.
* Book of Changes, I Ching, Yijing, I King, Yi King, Zhouyi, or Chou I
* Book of Poetry, Book of Songs, Shijing, or Shi King
* Book of Rites, Liji, or Liki
* Book of Documents, Book of History, Shujing, or Shu King
* Spring and Autumn Annals, Annals of Lu, Chunqiu, or Chun-chiu
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
# Felicia Hemans in The Literary Gazette 1821/To the Ivy

TO THE IVY.
Oh! how could fancy crown with thee
 In ancient days, the God of wine,
And bid thee at the banquet be
 Companion of the vine? Thy home, wild plant, is where each sound
 Of revelry hath long been o'er,
Where song's full notes once peal'd around,
 But now are heard no more.
The Roman, on his battle-plains,
 Where kings before his Eagles bent,
Entwin'd thee, with exulting strains,
 Around the Victor's tent;
Yet there, tho' fresh in glossy green,
 Triumphally thy boughs might wave,
Better thou lov'st the silent scene,
 Around the Victor's grave.
Where sleep the sons of ages flown,
 The bards and heroes of the past—
Where, thro' the halls of glory gone,
 Murmurs the wintry blast;
Where years are hastening to efface
 Each record of the grand and fair,
Thou in thy solitary grace,
 Wreath of the tomb art there.
Thou, o'er the shrines of fallen gods,
 On classic plains dost mantling spread,
And veil the desolate abodes,
 And Cities of the dead.
Deserted palaces of kings,
 Arches of triumph, long o'erthrown,
And all once glorious earthly things,
 At length are thine alone.
Oh! many a temple, once sublime,
 Beneath the blue, Italian sky,
Hath nought of beauty left by time,
 Save thy wild tapestry:
And, rear'd midst crags and clouds, ’tis thine
 To wave where banners wav'd of yore;
O'er mouldering towers, by lovely Rhine
 Cresting the rocky shore.
High from the fields of air look down
 Those eyries of a vanish'd race,
Homes of the mighty, whose renown
 Hath pass'd, and left no trace.
But thou art there—thy foliage bright,
 Unchang'd the mountain-storm can brave,
Thou that wilt climb the loftiest height,
 And deck the humblest grave.
The breathing forms of Parian stone,
 That rise round grandeur's marble halls,
The vivid hues, by painting thrown
 Rich o'er the glowing walls;
Th' Acanthus, on Corinthian fanes,
 In sculptur'd beauty waving fair;
These perish all—and what remains?
 Thou, thou alone art there!
'Tis still the same—where'er we tread,
 The wrecks of human power we see,
The marvels of all ages fled,
 Left to Decay and thee! And still let man his fabrics rear,
 August in beauty, grace, and strength,
Days pass—Thou Ivy never sere,  And all is thine at length! H.
# Felicia Hemans in The Literary Gazette 1822/The Cid's Departure into Exile

The Literary Gazette, 12th October 1822
BALLAD.
The Cid's departure into exile. [See Southey's Chronicle of the Cid.]
With sixty Knights in his gallant train,
Went forth the Campeador of Spain;
For wild sierras and plains afar,
He left the lands of his own Bivar.
To march o'er field and to watch in tent,
From his home in good Castile he went;
To the wasting siege and the battle's van,
For the noble Cid was a banish'd man!
Through his olive-woods the morn-breeze play'd,
And his native streams wild music made;
And clear in the sunshine his vineyards lay,
When for march and combat he took his way.
With a thoughtful spirit his way he took,
And he turn'd his steed for a parting look,
For a parting look at his own fair towers,—
Oh! the Exile's heart hath weary hours!
The pennons were spread, and the band array'd;
But the Cid at his threshold a moment stay'd:— It was but a moment—the halls were lone,
And the gates of his dwelling all open thrown.
There was not a steed in the empty stall,
Nor a spear nor a cloak on the naked wall;
Nor a hawk on the perch, nor a seat at the door,
Nor the sound of a step on the hollow floor.
Then a dim tear swell'd to the warrior's eye,
As the voice of his native groves went by;
And he said, "My Foemen their wish have won,—
Now the will of God be in all things done!"
But the trumpet blew, with its note of cheer,
And the winds of the morning swept off the tear;
And the fields of his glory lay distant far;—
He is gone from the towers of his own Bivar!—H.
# Felicia Hemans in The Literary Gazette 1822/The Hall of Cynddylan

The Literary Gazette, 30th November 1822
THE HALL OF CYNDDYLAN.
Air-"The Door-Clapper."
The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night,
I weep, for the grave has extinguish'd its light;
The beam of its lamp from the summit is o'er,
The blaze of its hearth shall give welcome no more!
The Hall of Cynddylan is voiceless and still,
The sound of its harpings hath died on the hill!
Be silent for ever, thou desolate scene,
Nor let e'en an echo recall what hath been!
The Hall of Cynddylan is lonely and bare,
No banquet, no guest, not a footstep is there!
Oh! where are the warriors who circled its board?
—The grass will soon wave where the mead-cup was pour'd!
The Hall of Cynddylan is loveless to-night,
Since He is departed whose smile made it bright!
I mourn, but the sigh of my soul shall be brief,
The pathway is short to the grave of my chief!
# Felicia Hemans in The Literary Gazette 1822/Owain Gwyndwr's War-song

The Literary Gazette, 30th November 1822
OWAIN GLYNDWR'S WAR-SONG.
Saw ye the blazing star?
The heavens look down on freedom's war,
 And light her torch on high!
Bright on the dragon-crest
It tells that glory's wing shall rest,
 When warriors meet to die!
Let earth's pale tyrants read despair,
 And vengeance in its flame. Hail ye, my bards! the omen fair
 Of conquest and of fame,
And swell the rushing mountain-air,
 With songs to Glyndwr's name.
At the dead hour of night,
Mark'd ye how each majestic height
 Burn'd in its awful beams?
Red shone th' eternal snows,
And all the land, as bright it rose,
 Was full of glorious dreams!
Oh! eagles of the battle, rise!
 The hope of Gwynedd wakes!
It is your banner in the skies,
 Thro' each dark cloud which breaks,
And mantles, with triumphal dyes,
 Your thousand hills and lakes!
A sound is on the breeze,
A murmur, as of swelling seas!  The Saxon on his way!
Lo! spear, and shield, and lance,
From Deva's waves, with lightning glance,
 Reflected to the day!
But who the torrent-wave compels
 A conqueror's chain to bear? Let those who wake the soul that dwells
 On our free winds, beware! The greenest and the loveliest dells
 May be the lion's lair!
Of us they told, the seers
And monarch-bards of elder years,
 Who walk'd on earth, as pow'rs!
And in their burning strains
A spell of might and mystery reigns,
 To guard our mountain-towers!
—In Snowdon's caves a prophet lay,
 Before his gifted sight
The march of ages pass'd away,
 With hero-footsteps bright,
But proudest in that long array
 Was Glyndwr's path of light!
# Felicia Hemans in The Literary Gazette 1822/The Dying Chief

The Literary Gazette, 5th October 1822
BALLAD—THE DYING CHIEF.
(From a manuscript Poem.)
The stars look'd down on the battle-plain,
 Where night-winds were deeply sighing,
And with shattered lance, by his war-steed, slain,
 Lay a youthful Chieftain dying.
He had folded round his gallant breast
 The banner, once o'er him streaming,
For a noble shroud, as he sunk to rest
 On the couch that knows no dreaming.
Proudly he lay on his broken shield,
 By the rushing Guadalquivir,
While, dark with the blood of his last red field,
 Swept on the majestic river.
There were hands which came to bind his wound,
 There were eyes o'er the warrior weeping;
But he raised his head from the dewy ground,
 Where the land's high hearts were sleeping!
And "Away!" he cried, "your aid is vain,
 My soul may not brook recalling,
I have seen the stately flower of Spain
 As the Autumn vine-leaves falling!
"I have seen the Moorish banners wave
 O'er the halls where my youth was cherish'd;
I have drawn a sword that could not save,
 I have stood where my King hath perish'd!
"Leave me to die with the free and brave,
 On the banks of my own bright river!
Ye can give me nought but a warrior's grave
 By the chainless Guadalquivir!"H.