OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Boatie Rows

* "The Boatie Rows", in The Black-Bird Songster (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The boatie rows", in New minstrel (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Boatie Rows", in Seraphim (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Boatie Rows", in The Singers' Companion (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Boatie Rows", in Home! Sweet Home! (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Boatie Rows", in The Village Sexton (1823), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Boatie Rows", in The Sentimental Songster (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Boatie Rows", in Robin Adair (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Boatie rows", in The Canary (1810), a chapbook printed in Paisley
* "The Boatie Rows", in The Book of Scottish Song (1843), edited by Alexander Whitelaw
# The Brig Alerta and Cargo v. Blas Moran

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
13 U.S. 359
The Brig Alerta and Cargo v. Blas Moran
Absent. TODD, J.
THIS was an appeal from the sentence of the district Court, for the district of New Orleans, (which has the jurisdiction also of a Circuit Court.)
The facts of the case were stated by WASHINGTON, J. in delivering the opinion of the Court, as follows:

## 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
# The Bridge of Sighs

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Bridge of Sighs."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* "The Bridge of Sighs" (1825), a short story by Karl Borromäus von Miltitz, translated anonymously
* "The Bridge of Sighs" (1844), a poem by Thomas Hood
# The Bridge of Sighs (Hood)

One more Unfortunate,  Weary of breath, Rashly importunate,  Gone to her death!
Take her up tenderly,  Lift her with care; Fashion'd so slenderly  Young, and so fair!
Look at her garments Clinging like cerements; Whilst the wave constantly  Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly,  Loving, not loathing.
Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully,  Gently and humanly; Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her  Now is pure womanly.
Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny  Rash and undutiful: Past all dishonour, Death has left on her  Only the beautiful.
Still, for all slips of hers,  One of Eve's family Wipe those poor lips of hers  Oozing so clammily.
Loop up her tresses  Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses; Whilst wonderment guesses  Where was her home?
Who was her father?  Who was her mother? Had she a sister?  Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one  Yet, than all other?
Alas! for the rarity Of Christian charity  Under the sun! O, it was pitiful! Near a whole city full,  Home she had none.
Sisterly, brotherly, Fatherly, motherly  Feelings had changed: Love, by harsh evidence, Thrown from its eminence; Even God's providence  Seeming estranged.
Where the lamps quiver So far in the river,  With many a light From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood, with amazement,  Houseless by night.
The bleak wind of March  Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river: Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery,  Swift to be hurl'd Anywhere, anywhere  Out of the world!
In she plunged boldly No matter how coldly  The rough river ran Over the brink of it, Picture it think of it,  Dissolute Man! Lave in it, drink of it,  Then, if you can!
Take her up tenderly,  Lift her with care; Fashion'd so slenderly,  Young, and so fair!
Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly,  Decently, kindly, Smooth and compose them; And her eyes, close them,  Staring so blindly!
Dreadfully staring  Thro' muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing  Fix'd on futurity.
Perishing gloomily, Spurr'd by contumely, Cold inhumanity, Burning insanity,  Into her rest. Cross her hands humbly As if praying dumbly,  Over her breast!
Owning her weakness,  Her evil behaviour, And leaving, with meekness,  Her sins to her Saviour!
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
# The Brig Ann McClain Master

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
13 U.S. 289
The Brig Ann McClain Master
Absent. TODD, J.
APPEAL from the sentence of the Circuit Court for the district of Connecticut, which reversed that of the District Court, and restored the property to the Claimant.
STORY, J. delivered the opinion of the Court as follows:

## 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
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Biographical Index of Authors

Biographical Index of Authors
Layout 2
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Appendix

Appendix
Appendix
Layout 2
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/At the Closed Gate of Justice

James D. Corrothers
AT THE CLOSED GATE OF JUSTICE
To be a Negro In a day like this
Demands forgiveness. Bruised with blow on blow,
Betrayed, like him whose woe dimmed eyes gave bliss
Still must one succor those who brought one low,
To be a Negro in a day like this.
To be a Negro in a day like this
Demands rare patience—patience that can wait
In utter darkness. 'Tis the path to miss,
And knock, unheeded, at an iron gate.
To be a Negro in a day like this.
To be a Negro in a day like this
Demands strange loyalty. We serve a flag
Which is to us white freedom's emphasis.
Ah! one must love when Truth and Justice lag,
To be a Negro in a day like this.
To be a Negro in a day like this—
Alas! Lord God, what evil have we done?
Still shines the gate, all gold and amethyst.
But I pass by, the glorious goal unwon,
"Merely a Negro"—in a day like this!
Layout 2
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Before the Feast of Shushan

Anne Spencer
BEFORE THE FEAST OF SHUSHAN
Layout 2
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/A Song of Thanks

Edward Smyth Jones
A SONG OF THANKS
Layout 2
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/An Indignation Dinner

AN INDIGNATION DINNER
Dey was hard times jes fo' Christmas round our neighborhood one year;
So we held a secret meetin', whah de white folks couldn't hear,
To 'scuss de situation, an' to see what could be done
Towa'd a fust-class Christmas dinneh an' a little Christmas fun,
Rufus Green, who called de meetin', ris an' said: "In dis here town,
An' throughout de land, de white folks is a-tryin' to keep us down."
S' 'e: "Dey's bought us, sold us, beat us; now dey 'buse us 'ca'se we's free;
But when dey tetch my stomach, dey's done gone too fur foh me!
"Is I right?" "You sho is, Rufus!" roared a dozen hungry throats.
"Ef you'd keep a mule a-wo'kin', don't you tamper wid his oats.
Dat's sense," continued Rufus. "But dese white folks nowadays
Has done got so close and stingy you can't live on what dey pays.
"Here 'tis Christmas- time, an', folkses, I's indignant 'nough to choke.
Whah's our Christmas dinneh comin' when we's 'mos' completely broke?
I can't hahdly 'fo'd a toothpick an' a glass o' water. Mad?
Say, I'm desp'ret! Dey jes better treat me nice, dese white folks had!"
Well, dey 'bused de white folks scan'lous, till old Pappy Simmons ris,
Leanin' on his cane to s'pote him, on account his rheumatis',
An' s' 'e: "Chilun, whut's dat wintry wind a-sighin' th'ough de street
'Bout yo' wasted summeh wages? But, no matter, we mus' eat.
"Now, I seed a beau'ful tuhkey on a certain gemmun's fahm.
He's a-growin' fat an' sassy, an' a-struttin' to a chahm.
Chickens, sheeps, hogs, sweet pertaters—all de craps is fine dis year;
All we needs is a committee foh to tote de goodies here."
Well, we lit right m an' voted dat it was a gran idee.
An' de dinneh we had Christmas was worth trabblin' miles to see;
An' we eat a full an' plenty, big an' little, great an' small.
Not beca'se we was dishonest, but indignant, sah. Dat's all.
Layout 2
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Black Mammies

BLACK MAMMIES
If Ah evah git to glory, an' Ah hope to mek it thoo,
Ah expec' to hyah a story, an' Ah hope you'll hyah it, too,—
Hit'll kiver Maine to Texas, an' f'om Bosting to Miami,—
Ov de highes' shaf in glory, 'rected to de Negro Mammy.
You will see a lot o' Washington, an' Washington again;
An' good ol' Fathah Lincoln, tow'rin' 'bove de rest o' men;
But dar'll be a bunch o' women standin' hard up by de th'one.
An' dey'll all be black an' homely,—'less de Virgin Mary's one.
Dey will be de talk of angels, dey will be de praise o' men.
An' de whi' folks would go crazy 'thout their Mammy folks again:
If it's r'ally true dat meekness makes you heir to all de eart',
Den our blessed, good ol' Mammies must 'a' been of noble birt'.
If de greates' is de servant, den Ah got to say o' dem,
Dey'll be standin' nex' to Jesus, sub to no one else but Him;
If de crown goes to de fait'ful, an' de palm de victors wear,
Dey'll be loaded down wid jewels more dan anybody dere.
She'd de hardes' road to trabel evah mortal had to pull;
But she knelt down in huh cabin till huh cup o' joy was full;
Dough' ol' Satan tried to shake huh f'om huh knees wid scowl an' frown,
She jes' "clumb up Jacob's ladder," an' he nevah drug huh down.
She'd jes' croon above de babies, she'd jes' sing when t'ings went wrong,
An' no matter what de trouble, she would meet it wid a song;
She jes' prayed huh way to heaben, findin' comfort in de rod;
She jes' "stole away to Jesus," she jes' sung huh way to God!
She "kep' lookin' ovah Jurdan," kep' "a-trustin' in de word,"
Kep' a-lookin' fo "de char'et," kep' "a-waitin' fo' de Lawd,"
If she evah had to quavah of de shadder of a doubt,
It ain't nevah been discovahed, fo' she nevah sung it out;
But she trusted in de shadder, an' she trusted in de shine,
An' she longed fo' one possession: "dat heaben to be mine";
An' she prayed huh chil'en freedom, but she won huhse'f de bes',—
Peace on eart' amids' huh sorrows, an' up yonder heabenly res'!
Layout 2
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/After the Winter

AFTER THE WINTER
Layout 2
# The Clicking of Cuthbert/FORE

FORE!
This book marks an epoch in my literary career. It is written in blood. It is the outpouring of a soul as deeply seared by Fate's unkindness as the pretty on the dog-leg hole of the second nine was ever seared by my iron. It is the work of a very nearly desperate man, an eighteen-handicap man who has got to look extremely slippy if he doesn't want to find himself in the twenties again.
As a writer of light fiction, I have always till now been handicapped by the fact that my disposition was cheerful, my heart intact, and my life unsoured. Handicapped, I say, because the public likes to feel that a writer of farcical stories is piquantly miserable in his private life, and that, if he turns out anything amusing, he does it simply in order to obtain relief from the almost insupportable weight of an existence which he has long since realized to be a wash-out. Well, today I am just like that.
Two years ago, I admit, I was a shallow farceur. My work lacked depth. I wrote flippantly simply because I was having a thoroughly good time. Then I took up golf, and now I can smile through the tears and laugh, like Figaro, that I may not weep, and generally hold my head up and feel that I am entitled to respect.
If you find anything in this volume that amuses you, kindly bear in mind that it was probably written on my return home after losing three balls in the gorse or breaking the head off a favourite driver: and, with a murmured "Brave fellow! Brave fellow!" recall the story of the clown jesting while his child lay dying at home. That is all. Thank you for your sympathy. It means more to me than I can say. Do you think that if I tried the square stance for a bit…. But, after all, this cannot interest you. Leave me to my misery.
POSTSCRIPT.—In the second chapter I allude to Stout Cortez staring at the Pacific. Shortly after the appearance of this narrative in serial form in America, I received an anonymous letter containing the words, "You big stiff, it wasn't Cortez, it was Balboa." This, I believe, is historically accurate. On the other hand, if Cortez was good enough for Keats, he is good enough for me. Besides, even if it was Balboa, the Pacific was open for being stared at about that time, and I see no reason why Cortez should not have had a look at it as well.
P. G. WODEHOUSE.
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 2/Current Topics (11)

Current Topics.
* The note that broke Austria’s back
* The Cleveland Conference
* With the Slovak League
* Hazen’s article in the Saturday Evening Post
* From a Swede friend of Bohemia
* Statement of the ownership
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 2/Current Topics (3)

Current Topics.
* Convention of the Bohemian National Alliance
* Slovak League Congress
* The boys in Camp Sherman
* Some quiet workers
* Thoughtless and thoughtful editorials
* From the Czechoslovak army in Russia
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 2/Current Topics (5)

Current Topics.
* Masaryk’s reception in Chicago
* Message of loyalty to the President
* Allied labor in favor of Czech demands
* Liberty Loan record of Bohemians
* Ignorance in seats of learning
* A government publication by a Bohemian scholar
* Notice to new subscribers
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 2/Current Topics (1)

Current Topics.
* With the Bohemian National Alliance
* Bohemia in the American press
* A letter of appreciation
* Acquainting America with Bohemia
* The Austrian Slavs and self-determination
* Bohemian Review enters upon second year
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 2/Current Topics (10)

Current Topics.
* The Japanese recoginition
* Among the Czechoslovaks here
* The great New York manifestation
* Flag raising in Chicago
* Bohemians at the Minnesota state fair
* Slovaks and the Fourth Liberty Loan
* Book Review: Bohemian Grammar
* American Socialist Party and its Slav membership
* The principle of self determination
* How the Czechoslovak army in Russia is growing
* Slavic Mythology
* Malicious misrepresentations
* Miscellaneous
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 2/Current Topics (12)

Current Topics.
* The Declaration of Geneva
* President Masaryk started for Bohemia
* With the Czechoslovak organization in America
* Czechoslovak day in Camp Meade
* The new republic on Masaryk
* Slovaks of America send message to Slovakia
* To our readers!
* An arraignment of Magyar oligarchy
* American Commanding General one of our readers
* Miscellaneous
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 2/Current Topics (2)

Current Topics.
* Comment of American periodicals
* Visit of the Serbian mission
* With the Bohemian National Alliance
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 2/Current Topics (4)

Current Topics.
* Organization changes
* Loyalty of Bohemians to America
* Our cause before the American people
* To our readers
* Miscellaneous
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 6/Epistles - Second Series/CXXXIII Mrs. Bull

CXXXIII
THE MATH,
(The letter was actually written from Ambala.)
19th August, 1897.
DEAR MRS. BULL,
. . . My health is indifferent, and although I have some rest, I do not think I shall be able to regain my usual vigour till winter next. I had a letter from Joe saying that you are both coming to India. I, of course, will be very glad to see you in India, only you ought to know from the first that India is the dirtiest and unhealthiest hole in the world, with scarcely any European comforts except in the big capitals.
I learn from England that Mr. Sturdy is sending Abhedananda to New York. It seems that the English work is impossible without me. Only a magazine will be started and worked by Mr. Sturdy. I had arranged to come to England this season, but I was foolishly prevented by the doctors. In India the work is going on.
I do not think any European or American will be of any service here just now, and it will be hard for any Westerner to bear the climate. Annie Besant with her exceptional powers works only among the Theosophists, and thus she submits to all the indignities of isolation which a Mlechchha is made to undergo here. Even Goodwin smarts now and then and has to be called to order. Goodwin is doing good work, as he is a man and can mix with the people. Women have no place in men's society here, and she can do good only among her own sex in India. The English friends that came over to India have not been of any help as yet, and do not know whether they will be of any in the future. With all these, if anybody wants to try, she is welcome.
If Saradananda wants to come, he may, and I am sure he will be of very good service to me just now in organising the work, now that my health is broken. There is a young English woman, Miss Margaret Noble, very eager to come to India to learn the state of things, so that she may do some work when she is back home. I have written her to accompany you in case you come via London. The great difficulty is that you can never understand the situation here from a distance. The two types are so entirely different in all things that it is not possible to form any idea from America or England.
You ought to think that you are starting for the interior of Africa, and if you meet anything better, that will be unexpected.
Ever yours etc.,
VIVEKANANDA.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 6/Epistles - Second Series/CXXXIV Mother

CXXXIV
(Translated from Bengali)
1897.
DEAR MOTHER, (Shrimati Indumati Mitra)
Please be not anxious because I could not write to you and could not go to Belgaon. I was suffering very much from illness and it was impossible for me to go then. Now thanks to my travels in the Himalayas, I have greatly regained my health. I shall soon resume work. In two weeks I am going to the Punjab, and just after delivering a lecture or two at Lahore and Amritsar, I shall start via Karachi for Gujarat, Cutch, etc. I shall surely see you at Karachi.
This Kashmir is a veritable heaven on earth. Nowhere else in the world is such a country as this. Mountains and rivers, trees and plants, men and women, beasts and birds — all vie with one another for excellence. I feel a pang at heart not to have visited it so long. Please write to me in detail how you are doing, mentally and physically, and accept my special blessings. I am constantly hating your welfare at heart, know this for certain.
Yours sincerely,
VIVEKANANDA.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 6/Epistles - Second Series/CXXXVI Akhandananda

CXXXVI
(Translated from Bengali)
MURREE,
10th October, 1897.
MY DEAR AKHANDANANDA,
I am very glad to receive your letter. You need not make a big plan for the present, but do only what is possible under existing circumstances. Gradually the way will open to you. We must certainly have the orphanage, no hesitating in that. We must not leave the girls in the lurch either. But then we must have a lady superintendent for an orphanage of girls. I believe Mother will be a very good hand for that. Or engage for this task some aged widow of the village who has no issue. And there must be separate places for the boys and girls. Captain Sevier is ready to send you money to help in this. Nedou's Hotel, Lahore — that is his address. If you write to him, write the words, "To wait arrival", on the letter. I am soon going to Rawalpindi, tomorrow or the day after; then I visit Lahore and other places via Jammu, and return to Rajputana via Karachi etc.
I am doing well.
Yours,
VIVEKANANDA.
PS. You must admit Mohammedan boys, too, but never tamper with their religion. The only thing you will have to do is to make separate arrangements for their food etc., and teach them so that they may be moral, manly, and devoted to doing good to others. This indeed is religion.
Shelve your intricate philosophical speculations for the present. In our country we at present need manhood and kindness. " [136_akhandananda_01.jpg] — The Lord is the Essence of unutterable love." But instead of saying " say, " [136_akhandananda_03.jpg] — He is ever manifest as Love in all beings." What other God — the creation of your mind — are you then going to worship! Let the Vedas, the Koran, the Puranas, and all scriptural lumber rest now for some time — let there be worship of the visible God of Love and Compassion in the country. All idea of separation is bondage, that of non-differentiation is Mukti. Let not the words of people dead-drunk with worldliness terrify you. " [136_akhandananda_04.jpg] — Be fearless" "Ignore the ordinary critics as worms!" Admit boys of all religions — Hindu, Mohammedan, Christian, or anything; but begin rather gently — I mean, see that they get their food and drink a little separately, and teach them only the universal side of religion.
Be mad over this, and strike others with this madness! This life has no other end. Preach His name, let His teachings penetrate the world to the very bone. Never forget. Repeat this Mantra in your heart of hearts unceasingly, as you go the round of your daily duties.
Yours,
V.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 6/Epistles - Second Series/CXXXV Sarada

CXXXV
(Translated from Bengali)
MURREE,
10th October, 1897.
DEAR SARADA,
I am sorry to learn from your letter that you are not doing well. If you can make an unpopular man popular, then I call you a clever fellow. There is no prospect of work there in the future; it would have been better had you gone rather to Dacca, or some other place. However, it is a good thing that the work will close in November. If you get very badly off in health, you should better come away. There is much field for work in the Central Provinces; and even without famine, there is no lack of poverty-stricken people in our country. Wherever it is, if you can choose a site with an eye to prospect, you are sure to turn out good work. However, be not sorry. What one does has no destruction — no, never. Who knows, at that very place the future may reap golden results.
I shall very soon begin my work in the plains. I have now no need of travelling over the mountains.
Keep watch over your health.
Yours affectionately,
VIVEKANANDA.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 6/Epistles - Second Series/CXXXI Akhandananda

CXXXI
(Translated from Bengali)
Salutation to Bhagavan Ramakrishna!
ALMORA,
24th July, 1897.
MY DEAR AKHANDANANDA,
I am very glad to receive your letter and go through the contents. Your wishes about the orphanage are very good and Shri Maharaj (Shri Ramakrishna.) will not fail to fulfil them at an early date. Try your best to found a permanent centre. ... Never worry about money. Tomorrow I shall leave Almora for the plains; and wherever there will be made some stir, I shall open a subscription list for famine — set your mind easy on that score. When in every district there will be a Math on the model of our Math in Calcutta, then will my heart's desire be fulfilled. Let not the work of preaching, too, be at a standstill, and greater even than preaching, is the work of imparting education. By means of lectures and the like, the village people must be taught religion, history, and such other subjects — specially history. To help our educational work there is a Society in England, which, as I find from reports, is doing excellent work. In time we shall get help of this kind from everywhere, don't be frightened. They only do work who think that help will come, directly they are on the field of work.
All strength is in you, have faith in it. It will not go unmanifested. Accept my heartiest love and blessings, and convey them to the Brahmachârin. Write now and then fiery letters to the Math, so that all may take heart and work. Victory to the Guru!
Yours affly.,
VIVEKANANDA.