OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Hermione and Her Little Group of Serious Thinkers/Mamma Is So Mid-Victorian

MAMMA IS SO MID-VICTORIAN
WE'VE been taking up Hedonism lately—our Little Group of Modern Thinkers, you know—and it's wonderful, just simply wonderful!
Though Mamma—poor dear Mamma is so hopelessly old-fashioned;—has entirely the wrong idea about it.
"Hermione," she said to me the other evening, after the little talk, "what did the lecturer call himself?"
"He's a Hedonist," I said.
"Indeed!" she said, "and what sort of modern impropriety is Hedonism? Is it something about Sex, or is it something about Psychics?"
I simply couldn't speak.
I just gave her a look and walked out of the room. It is absolutely useless to attempt to explain anything to Mamma.
She is so Mid-Victorian!
And Mid-Victorianism has quite gone out, you know. Really. The loveliest man gave us a talk on the Mid-Victorian recently, and when he was ​done there wasn't a one of us that didn't go and hide our Tennysons and Ruskins.
Although I always will like "Come into the Garden, Maud."
But he did it with such humor, you know. Isn't a sense of humor a perfectly wonderful thing?
A sense of humor is a sense of proportion, you know—he brought that out so cleverly, the anti-Mid-Victorian man did.
Though so many people who have a sense of humor are so—so, well, so queer about it, if you get what I mean. That is, if you know they have one, of course you re naturally watching for them to say humorous things ; and they re forever saying the sort of things that puzzle you, because you have never heard those things before in just that way, and if you do laugh they re so apt to act as if you were laughing in the wrong place!
And one doesn't dare not to laugh, does one? It's really quite unfair and unkind sometimes! Don't you think so?
We took up a volume on The Analysis of Humor one winter—our Little Group of Serious Thinkers, you know—and read it completely through, and before the winter was over it got so there wasn't a one of us that dared not to laugh at anything any other one said and—well, it got rather ghastly before spring. Because even if someone wanted to ​know if a person needed an umbrella someone else would laugh.
Well, I must be going now. I have a committee meeting at three this afternoon. We're going in for this one-day Women's Strike, you know—our little group is.
# Hermione and Her Little Group of Serious Thinkers/Politics

POLITICS
I'M thinking of taking up politics in a practical way.
I've never been an active suffragist, you know, on account of that horrid yellow color on the banners and things.
But one must sacrifice Ideals of Beauty to Ideals of Usefulness, mustn't one?
And politics is fascinating; simply fascinating!
Going about and organizing working girls, you know, and seeing Corrupt Bosses and enlisting them for Moral Causes, and making one's self felt as a Force—could one make one's self more Utile?
More spiritually Utile?
Utility! That is what our Leaders of Thought need to develop!
Nearly every night before I go to bed I say to myself: "Have I been Utile today? Or have I failed?"
Politics, practical politics, will be such an outlet for my personality, too.
And when I reopen my Salon I can make it count for the Cause, too. ​We are going to give an evening soon—our Group of Advanced Thinkers, you know—to a serious and thorough study of political economy. They say it's simply wonderful.
The loveliest woman talked to us the other evening. She's a poet. When women have charge of affairs, she said, Humanitarianism, Idealism and the Poetic Spirit will rule in public life.
Won't that be lovely?
But we must be practical, and get the Bosses on our side. They are simply horrid people socially and ethically, you know. But there's something frightfully fascinating about the idea of bearding them in their dens with petitions and things.
Though how the idea of abolishing men altogether will work out I don't know.
Some of the leaders of the Cause seem to want it. I have no doubt it could be done. Some plants and insects have only the female sex, you know. And maybe the human race will be that way one day.
Although, for my part, if they could only be reformed I'd favor retaining men.
There's something about them so—so—well, so masculine somehow, if you know what I mean.
But I must hurry—I have to do some shopping.
Clothes are a bore, aren't they?
# Hermione and Her Little Group of Serious Thinkers/Intuition

INTUITION
IN spite of all we've done for them—by we I mean the serious thinkers of the world—some people are so frightfully uncultured!
A girl asked me the other day—and the surprising thing about it, too, is that she belonged to our own Little Group of Advanced Thinkers—she asked me: "Hermione, don't you just dote on Rubaiyat's poetry?"
For a moment I couldn't think who she meant at all.
"He's not an American, is he?" I said.
"Oh, no," she said, "he's some sort of an Oriental."
"It isn't Rubaiyat you're thinking of, my dear," I told her. "It's Rabindranath. Rabindranath Something-or-other, that new man—he's wonderful, my dear, simply wonderful."
And then she quoted some of it and—the idea is too absurd for anything, but what do you suppose it was?
Omar Khayyam—imagine!
And really, you know, it's been years since ​anybody quoted Omar Khayyam; he's quite gone out, you know!
Even the question whether he was moral doesn't attract any attention any more. Although as far as that is concerned, the pure mind will get purity out of him and the impure mind will get impurity. Honi soit qui—what is the rest of it? Oh, you know—it's Latin—what the Romans used to say about Cæsar's wife and her continual suspicions.
My, how a suspicious wife can handicap a man!
But, of course, as women get more and more advanced, and know about the lives men lead, they are finding out that their suspicions were justified.
Their intuitions told them so all the time.
I have a lot of intuition myself—the moment a man comes I judge him in spite of myself.
First impressions always last with me, too.
You know, I'm very psychic.
Sometimes I am almost frightened when I think of the things my intuition would tell me if I allowed it to roam at will, so to speak, among my friends and acquaintances.
But I restrain it. One must, you know. The loveliest man gave us such an interesting talk on self-restraint the other evening.
And now I always ask myself the last thing before I go to bed at night: "Have I restrained myself today? Or have I failed?"
​There is no real culture without restraint, you know.
That's where the English are so superior, don't you think?
I met the loveliest Englishman the other evening. The moment I saw him I said to myself he was one of the aristocracy. Other people have noses like theirs, of course, but it is only the English aristocracy who can carry that kind of a nose.
And my intuition was correct—there are only five lives between him and a title, and one of those is a polo player and another is at the front.
Someone told me his family were paying him not to go home, but what they think the poor man would do if he were in England I don't know, because they don't duel there, you know. If they duelled there, of course, he might dispose of all five lives.
Don't you think those old European families are so, so—well, so romantic, somehow?
# Hermione and Her Little Group of Serious Thinkers/Moods and Poppies

MOODS AND POPPIES
WE took up the Bhagavad Gita—our Little Group of Advanced Thinkers, you know—in quite a thorough way the other evening.
Isn't the Bhagavad Gita just simply wonderful!
It has nothing at all to do with Bagdad, you know—though at first glance it seems quite like it might, doesn't it?
Of course, they're both Oriental—aren't you just simply wild about Oriental things?—but really, they're quite different.
The Bhagavad Gita, you know, is all about Reincarnation and Karma, and all those lovely old things.
When I start my Salon I'm going to have a Bhagavad Gita Evening—all in costume, you know.
I find that when I dress in harmony with the Idea I radiate it so much more effectively, if you get what I mean.
Fothergil Finch is the same way.
He writes his best vers libre things in a purple dressing-gown. ​There's an amber-colored pane of glass in his studio skylight, and he has to sit and wait and wait and wait until the moonlight falls through that pane onto his paper, and then it only stays long enough so he can write a few lines, and he can't go on with the poem until it comes again.
He brought me one last night—he wrote it to me—yes, really!—and he waited and waited for enough moonlight to do it, and caught a terrible cold in his head, poor dear Fothy.
It goes like this:
Poppies, poppies, silver poppies in the moonlight, poppies!
Silver poppies,
Silver poppies in the moonlight,
Youth!
Poppies, poppies, crimson poppies in the sunset, love!
Poppies, poppies, poppies!
Black poppies in the midnight,
Death !
Three colors of poppies!
One color is silver,
The second color is crimson,
The third color is black,
And if there were a fourth color it would be green! ​Alas! Why is there never a fourth color?
Poppies, poppies, poppies, but no Green Poppy!
I asked the little crippled girl who sells poppies to buy bread for the drunken father who beats her,
And she said, "I, too, seek the fourth color!"
I asked the boy who drives the grocer s delivery wagon, the old apple woman without teeth, the morgue keeper, the plumber, the janitor, the red-armed waffle baker in the window of a restaurant full of marble-topped tables and pallid-looking girls, the subway guard and the millionaire,
And they all said,
"Poppies, poppies, poppies,
We have never known but three colors!"
I am a Great Virile Spirit;
I, with my Ego,
I will give the world its Desire !
I, the strong!
I, the daring!
I will create a Green Poppy!
That about being Virile is just like Fothy! He prides himself on being Virile, you know—poor, dear Fothy!
He said until he saw me he had always been satisfied with silver and red and black poppies, but ​as soon as he knew me he felt there must be a Green Poppy somewhere.
It is likely a mood of my soul, you know—the Green Poppy is!
Isn't it simply wonderful!
# Hermione and Her Little Group of Serious Thinkers/How the Swami Happened to Have Seven Wives

HOW THE SWAMI HAPPENED TO HAVE SEVEN WIVES
ISN'T it terrible about that elephant at the Zoo—Oh, you know!—it's like Gunga Din, only, of course, it isn't Gunga Din at all.
Anyhow, he's chained for life! I suppose someone gave him tobacco for a joke and it made him cross. I've heard of those cases, haven't you?
An elephant is such a—such a—well, noble beast, isn't he?
Its transmigration of souls makes them that way, perhaps.
Just think—the soul of some Hindu Howdah may be in that beast!
Or is it a Rajah?
Anyhow, it sits on top of an elephant.
We took up transmigration of souls one time—our Little Group of Serious Thinkers, you know—and it's wonderful; simply wonderful!
That was when the Swami Brandranath used to talk to us. The dear Swami! Such eyes—so pure and yet so magnetic!—I have never seen in a human being.
​The eye is the window of the soul, you know.
He's in jail now, the poor, dear Swami. But he wasn't really a bigamist at all. You see, he had seven spiritual planes. All of us do, only most of us don't know it. But he could get from one plane to another quite easily.
Of course, he couldn't remember what he'd done on one plane while he was on the next one above or below it. And that's the way he happened to have seven wives—one for each spiritual plane.
Only the Court took a sordid view of it. It seems there was something about life insurance mixed up with it, too.
The Occidentals are so apt to miss the spiritual sweetness of the Oriental, don't you think?
We are—all but the Leaders of Thought, and a little group, here and there—so commonplace.
Don't you loathe the commonplace?
Not loathe, really, of course—because the harmonious mind does not let itself be disturbed.
The harmonious mind realizes that dirt is only useful matter in the wrong place, as Tennyson sings so sweetly somewhere.
Tennyson has quite gone out, of course. He is so—so, well, if you get what I mean—so mid-Victorian, somehow.
It seems he was mid-Victorian all the time, but it's only recently that it's been found out on him.
​Though I always will think of "Come Into the Garden, Maud," as one of the world's sweetest little epics.
I'm very independent that way, in spite of the critics. After all, criticism comes down to a question of individual taste, doesn't it? That is, in the final analysis.
Independence! That is what this age needs. Nearly every night before I go to bed I say to my self: "Have I been independent today? Or have I failed?"
I believe in those little spiritual examinations, don't you?
It helps one to keep in tune with the Infinite, you know.
The Infinite! How much is comprises! And how little we really understand it!
We're going to take it up, the Infinite, in a serious way soon—our Little Group of Advanced Thinkers, you know.
# Hermione and Her Little Group of Serious Thinkers/On Being Other-Worldly

ON BEING OTHER-WORLDLY
IT is not enough to be merely unworldly. One must be Other-Worldly as well, if you get what I mean.
For what does all our Modern Thought amount to if it does not minister to the Beautiful and the Spiritual?
Isn't Materialism simply frightful?
For the undisciplined mind, I mean. Of course, the right sort of mind will get good even out of Materialism, and the wrong sort will get harm out of it.
Every time before I take up anything new I ask myself, "Is it Other-Worldly? Or is it not Other-Worldly?"
We were going to take up Malthusianism and Mendelism—our Little Group of Serious Thinkers, you know—and give a whole evening to them, but one of the girls said, "Oh, let's not take them up. They sound frightfully chemical, somehow!"
I said, "The question, my dear, is not whether they are chemical or un-chemical. The question is, Are they worldly? Or are they Other-Worldly?" ​That is the Touchstone. One can apply it to everything, simply everything!
Should teachers be mothers, for instance—that question came up for discussion the other evening. And I settled the whole matter at once, with one question: "Is it worldly? Or is it Other-Worldly for Teachers to be Mothers? Or is it merely Un-Worldly?"
Have you seen the latest models? Some of them are wonderful, simply wonderful! You know I always dress to my temperament—and I'm having the loveliest gown made—the skirt is écru lace, you know; a double tiered effect, falling from a straight bodice, and the color scheme is silver and blue.
# Hermione and Her Little Group of Serious Thinkers/Parents, and Their Influence

PARENTS, AND THEIR INFLUENCE
MAMMA is unadvanced enough, goodness knows!
But poor, dear Papa!
"Papa," I said to him the other day, "all conservatives worth listening to were radicals in their youth." The loveliest man told us that the other night—our Little Group of Serious Thinkers, you know—and it struck me as being profound.
And isn't profundity fascinating?
But Papa only glowered and said, "Umph!"
Papa, you know, is an obstructionist.
"Papa," I said to him, "what is stubbornness in you has become will power in me. You will never dominate me—never! You should study heredity; it's wonderful, simply wonderful!"
Papa scowled and said "Umph!"
But you know, Parents are Doomed.
Our little group listened to a talk the other evening about Parents. Mothers, particularly.
"The Menace of the Mother," it was called. I always make note of titles.
This man said—he was a regular savant—I wish ​you could have heard him—my, if I weren't such an advanced thinker, I would be a savant——
Anyhow, he said, this savant, that Mothers held back Civilization through Selfishness—they teach the Child, you know, that it is—er, well, you know, they lose sight of Ulterior Ethics and Race Morality while inculcating Individual Self-Improvement.
It's frightful to think about it, isn't it? Simply frightful!
Then and there I resolved that if I were ever a Mother I would turn over the up-bringing of my children to experts and savants and specialists like that.
"Papa," I said, "you allowed poor, dear Mamma to make me selfish—you know you did! What have you to say for yourself? What right had you to make me a Self-indulgent Individualist?"
And, you know, I have struggled and struggled to get rid of the selfishness my parents trained into me. How I strive for Harmony and Humility! Nearly every night before I go to bed I say to myself: "Have I been humble today? Truly humble? Or have I failed?"
Children are not nearly simple enough these days.
Oh, for more Simplicity! That is what we all need.
Though I will say this for Mamma—that it ​would have been hard to train Simplicity into me even if she had known how.
I had such a high-strung, sensitive, nervous organism as a child, you know.
At a very early age my temperament began to show.
And one cannot hide one's temperament.
Especially if one is at all psychic, and I am, very.
But if I ever have Children—well, I will take no chances with them.
To begin with, I will Select their Father.
Mamma said, when I told her that: "Hermione, you are horrid!"
Poor dear Mamma! She's so stupid! "Mamma," I said to her, "of course I don't mean free love. I'm not that advanced, I hope! Though some very Nice People have written of it—it's quite respectable, as a theory. But you're hopelessly old-fashioned. I will select the Parent of my Offspring; you were selected."
Mamma only groaned and said: "Anything but a Cave-man, Hermione."
But I am not sure. It comes back to me again and again how Primitive I am in some ways.
And to wander barefoot in the dew!
Not really quite barefoot, of course—but with some of the new sandals on.
# Hermione and Her Little Group of Serious Thinkers/Kultur and Things

KULTUR, AND THINGS
DO you know, Kultur isn't the same thing at all as culture… fancy!
When we took it up—Kultur, I mean—yes, we took it up in quite a serious way the other evening—our Little Group of Serious Thinkers, you know—and threshed it out thoroughly—we hadn't the slightest idea that it would lead us straight to Nietzsche and—and, well, all those people like that, if you get what I mean. Though, of course, as the man who spoke to us—he was the loveliest person!—spoke in German, we may have missed some of the finer shades.
Oh, yes, I had German in high school… really, I was quite proficient… although, of course, it's such a guttural kind of language—don't you think?—that one wonders how they ever sing it. And then, the verbs!… but I had Latin verbs about the same time, you know… and really, isn't it surprising how some of those foreign languages seem to run to verbs, if you get what I mean?
It seems it was the Germans who invented the ​Superman… and I suppose we must be grateful to them for that, no matter what they may have done with him after they invented him….
I used to be quite taken with the Superman, you know…. Really, I didn't recognize how dangerous he might become….
I didn't know he was German at all when we took him up….
Have you read anything about the Blond Beast?
I felt rather attracted toward him for a long time myself… until lately…. But the attraction passed…. I'm not brunette, you know, at all…. Likely that's why I lost interest in him….
Aren't affinities between people of different complexion simply wonderful!
It makes one wonder if the Eugenists can be right after all!
Fothergil Finch says that's where the Eugenists fall down…. He says they don't take account of Affinities at all.
Sometimes one finds it very puzzling—doesn't one?—the way these modern causes and movements seem to contradict one another!
But if one is in tune with the Cosmic All these little inconsistencies don't matter.
The Cosmic All!… what would we do without it? ​How do you suppose people ever got along a generation or two ago before the Cosmos and all that sort of thing was discovered?
I've often thought of it… and of what life must have been like in those days! As Emerson… or was it Emerson?… says in one of his poems: "Better a year of Europe than a cycle of Cathay!"
That's what Fothy Finch says he always feels about Brooklyn… though I will say this for Brooklyn—the first girl I saw with courage enough to wear one of those ankle watches on the street lived in Brooklyn.
But don't you think Brooklyn people are rather like that… go to the latest things in dress, you know, in an extreme sort of way, so that people won't suspect they live in Brooklyn?
# History of South Africa from 1795 to 1872

This book forms part of a series by Theal covering South African history from pre-colonial times to 1884:
* Ethnography and Condition of South Africa before A.D. 1505
* History of Africa south of the Zambesi from 1505 to 1795
* History of South Africa from 1795 to 1872
* History of South Africa from 1873 to 1884
An earlier edition of this work may be found at History of South Africa since September 1795.
* Volume I
* Volume II
* Volume III
* Volume IV
* Volume V
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
# Hong Kong Letters Patent

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Hong Kong Letters Patent."
* 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.
* Hong Kong Letters Patent 1843
* Hong Kong Letters Patent 1875
* Hong Kong Letters Patent 1877
* Hong Kong Letters Patent 1888
* Hong Kong Letters Patent 1917
# Hidden things brought to light for the increase of knowledge in reading the Bible

* Hidden things brought to light for the increase of knowledge in reading the Bible (1704)
* Hidden thoughts brought to light for the increase of knowledge in reading the Bible (1805)
# Hidden thoughts brought to light

The printing of this work is poor, and the binding is such that on a number of pages text has been cropped from either the left- of right-hand side of the page. The majority of the missing text has been reconstructed by consulting the quoted biblical verses, reworking the financial calculations or by reference to another edition of the work on Wikisource (which also suffers from the same tight binding problem).
Hidden Thoughts brought to Light:
for the
Increase of Knowledge,
In Reading the
HOLY BIBLE.
being
(illegible text) Explanation of the Coins, Measures, ⟨Money⟩, and Weights mentioned in the Bible; (illegible text) Shekels, Talents, Pieces of Siver, Silver-(illegible text) Pence, &c and what they are worth in ⟨Gold⟩ and Silver, according to English current ⟨Money⟩, being cast up in Shekels, Drams and (illegible text) in One to Three Hundred and Fifty ⟨Thousand⟩ Talents, in plain Words, for the ⟨Understanding⟩ of those that can read the Bible: also (illegible text) what Chapter and Verse they are to be found.
likewise,
(illegible text) Weights and Measures, how much are ⟨English⟩; and also, hard Words of Office and Sects (illegible text) wherefore one Part of the Bible is called ⟨Canonical⟩, and the other Apocrypha, explained.
By JOHN AXFORD.
⟨Proverbs ix.⟩ Instruct the Wise, and he will ⟨be Wiser⟩: Teach a righteous Man, and he will ⟨increase⟩ in Knowledge.
⟨Sterling⟩. Printed and Sold by C. Randall. 1805.
* To the Reader
* Hidden Thoughts brought to Light
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
# Hidden Love

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Hidden Love."
* 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.
* "Hidden Love", a poem by William Henry Davies ("The bird of Fortune sings when free")
* "Hidden Love", a poem by Sara Teasdale ("I hid the love within my heart")