OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Archaeological Journal/Volume 1/Notices of New Publications: The Handbook of Leicester

imp cæsar divi trajan parth f div trajan Hadrian aug pot iv cos iii a ratis iii
The Jewry Wall, Leicester.
This inscription fixes, beyond any doubt, Leicester as the site of the Roman town of Ratæ, and might, from the spot in which it was found, be of some use in determining the measure of the Roman mile in Britain. The other cut we ​select is a view of the part of the ancient Roman wall, called now the Jewry wall, the general appearance of which is here very well represented; but the layers of bricks are not sufficiently well defined, and the engraver has given the appearance of a receding arch to what was merely intended for a breach in the masonry under the third archway. Much doubt has existed on the original object for which this building served. It has been by some supposed to have been a temple of Janus, while others consider it to have been one of the Roman gateways of the town. Mr. Thompson has given a brief abstract of the various opinions on this subject, and concise accounts of the numerous other remains of Roman and medieval antiquity in Leicester, and we leave his book with the wish that it may serve as a model to similar guides to many an old and interesting locality. t. w.
# Beasts in Cassocks: The Crimes of the Heads of the Russian Greek Catholic Orthodox Church in America/Chapter 34

CHAPTER XXXIV.
I Am Fed on Promises
The three of us then called on V. V. Buimistrov, at 350 West 87th Street. He first saw Father Ptashchuk, then inquired about my case, and promised to look into it. He told us to come for his decision on Tuesday. On Tuesday, when we called, he did not receive us in person, but sent his secretary to us, who brought this message: "We have investigated the matter of your money and confession. It was not Mearopolitan Platon who procured the confession off you, but Alexander and Father Richlov. Your confession is in Platon's hands, and if you want it returner, take back the $200.00 and cease making other demands.
I told him that I was rather to receive and not to return money. We proceeded to the Consistory, and asked to be announced to the Metropolitan or to Alexander. We were told that the Metropolitan was not receiving anybody and that Alexander had lefi for Brooklyn. ​Leaving Father Ptashchuk, who had some business of his own to attend to, at the Consistory, I left, bent for home. As I was mounting the stairs leading from the basement to the street, I met Bishop Alexander. I took off my hat, folded my arms, and asked for his blessing. Instead of a blessing, he shook his fist in my face, stamped his foot, and whispered maliciously: "Get out of here, you son of a bitch, you offspring of Satan! I'll break your head!" I cannot repeat
Archbishop Alexander Nemolovsky, fugitive from justice because of a robbery of a half a million dollars.
the profane words he uttered—and those very lips pray and preach in church! "I did not come to you for this abuse, Holy Father," I said to him, "but for my money, which I earned with the sweat of my brow."—"May you be accursed, Anathema! You and all your ​race unto the third and fourth generation! You will rot away in prison like a dog. I will have your accursed soul leave your body in the Sing Sing electric chair!" With these words he turned around, and, mumbling something, ran back to his apartments. Robbed, downtrodden, with contumely heaped upon me, I returned to our little room to my poor, sick wife.
Two or three days later Richlov came to me and coaxing me not to get excited, urged me to see Archbishop Alexander Nemolovsky again. I took his advice and went to see Bishop Alexander. I found
Bandit General Semionov of Ludlow Street Jail.
with him Ambassador Boris Bakhmetyev and General Semionov. They told me not to worry about the money and encouraged me to go to Jugoslavia in order to join Baron Wrangel's Army. They hurried me away for a passport for Jugoslavia saying: "As soon as you get a passport anr bring it to us, we will turn over the money to you ​immediately, provided, of course, that you take your wife with you." Father Richlov accompanied me to the General Consulate, and I received in Richlov's presence a passport for Jugoslavia. I still have this passport in my possession as documentary evidence. Besides Richlov, the General Consul Vustinov anr Consul Rutzky, were present when my passport was issued.
# Ben King's Verse/She Does Not Hear

Sh-sh-sh-sh-she does not hear the r-r-r-r-robin  sing, Nor f-f-f-f-feal the b-b-b-b-balmy b-b-breath of  Spring; Sh-sh-sh-she does not hear the p-p-pelting rain B-b-b-beat ta-ta-tat-t-t-toos on the w-w-winder  p-p-pane.
Sh-sh-sh-she cuc-cuc-cannot see the Autumn s-s-sky, Nor hear the wild geeese s-s-s-stringing b-b-by; And, oh! how happy t-t-t-'tis to know Sh-sh-she never f-f-feels an earthly woe!
I s-s-spoke to her; sh-sh-she would not speak. I kuk-kuk-kuk-kissed her, but c-c-cold was her cheek. I could not twine her w-w-w-wondrous hair-- It w-w-was so wonderf-f-f-fully rare.
B-b-beside her s-s-stands a v-v-v-vase of flowers, A gilded cuc-cuc-cuc-clock that t-t-tells the hours; And even now the f-f-fire-light f-f-f-falls On her, and d-d-dances on the walls.
Sh-sh-she's living in a p-p-pup-purer life, Where there's no tu-tuh-turmoil and no strife; No t-t-t-tongue can m-m-m-mock, no words em-  barrass Her b-b-b-b-by g-g-gosh! she's p-p-plaster paris!
# Ben King's Verse/That Cat

The cat that comes to my window sill When the moon looks cold and the night is still-- He comes in a frenzied state alone With a tail that stands like a pine tree cone, And says: "I have finished my evening lark, And I think I can hear a hound dog bark. My whiskers are froze 'nd stuck to my chin. I do wish you'd git up and let me in."  That cat gits in.
But if in the solitude of the night He doesn't appear to be feeling right, And rises and stretches and seeks the floor, And some remote corner he would explore, And doesn't feel satisfied just because There's no good spot for to sharpen his claws, And meows and canters uneasy about Beyond the least shadow of any doubt  That cat gits out.
# Ben King's Verse/Old St. Joe

Of all the towns that jest suits me From Stevensville to Manistee, There's one old place I can't fergit; It ain't a great ways off, and yit From here it's sixty miles or so In a bee line--that's Old St. Joe.
I don't p'tend to write, an' ain't One of them air chaps 't paint; 'F I was I'd tell of scenes 't lie Stretched out afore a feller's eye; Er when the sun was hangin' low I'd paint it right from Old St. Joe.
I've seen folks gether thare in crowds Jist fer to watch the golden clouds Changin' shapes, and sort o' windin' Into figgers, never mindin' That old lake spread out below, Reflectin' 'em at Old St. Joe.
Underneath them cedar trees 'S where I used to take my ease. Birds a-singin' all along The hedge, an' each one had a song An' sung its best to let you know They jist got back to Old St. Joe.
They ain't no purtier site to me-- That is, 'cordin' to my idee-- Than jist to watch the gulls 'at fly Round that old pier; an' hear 'em cry An' circle round. It 'pears they know Fishin's good at Old St. Joe.
Course the people over there They don't notice 'em or care-- What they're worryin' 'bout is frost, 'N whether strawberries is lost; Yet they 'pear to take things slow, Jist the same as Old St. Joe.
'Ceptin' rheumatiz, their health Is middlin' good, an' as fer wealth They got that, an' lots o' land; 'Course the sile is mixed 'ith sand; But that's what makes the berries grow Overe there at Old St. Joe.
Take it gener'ly, as a rule, A feller likes where it's cool, Where he can sleep, an' drink in air That comes perfumed from orchards where The peach trees jist begin to blow; Then where's a place like Old St. Joe?
Such cool breeze blowin' back Keeps the skeeters makin' tack 'N the flies they mostly stay Up round Pipestone creek, they say. Tell you what, one thing I know-- They ain't no flies on Old St. Joe.
# Ben King's Verse/Pinkey

I reckon wintah's goin'
It's rainin' 'sted of snowin'.
I tale yo' dar 's no knowin'
 Jes' whar dis chile'll go.
Might go to Souf Kyarlina,
An' summah dar wid Dinah;
I guess I'd cut a shine
 Among de coons I know.
Den dar's my good ol' massa 'Way down in Tallahassie.
He ain't fo'got dis sassie
 Chile dat used to sing.
De why he call me "Pinkey"
Was de colluh ob my crinkey
Frock I wore so shrinky
 When I use to dance de fling.
We gals out in de moonshine
Would dance de good ol' coonjine,
An' dreckly den we'd soon fin'
 Dat missus heah de noise.
Den mighty quick she'd hurry
Down dar all in a flurry,
An' fin' dis huckleberry
 A-dancin' fo' de boys.
An' den de way she'd take me,
An' land ob goodness, shake me!
Ol' missus raised an' brake me.
 No wondah I'se so good.
Ol' missus used to tell me
Dat like de cows she'd bell me,
Or else she'd done go sell me
 To Yankees, I'se so rude.
I 'membah Rasmus Biddle,
As black as auntie's griddle;
He used to play de fiddle,
 An' feet! umh! a holy show.
An' dar was Luke an' Jaspah,
Lucindy, Jude an' Caspah,
Dat ignominy us, 'aspah-
 Ratin', on'ry lookin' moke.
Dat ol' cush-footed, cramp-back,
Dat essence ob ol' lampblack,
Dat inside yih! yih! ob a smokestack,
 Us gals we called 'im smoke.
An' dat new coon Pom Cuba,
Dat use to play de tuba,
He used to pat de juba,
 While I dance de Mobile buck.
De ole banjo was a-pingin'
An' dat pink frock a-swingin',
Dis yaller chile a-wingin',
 Jes' hoein' down fo' luck.
I ain't no Mobile niggah,
I cut no Mobile figgah,
But when yo' pull de triggah
 Yo' pestah dese heah shoes.
An' when de fiddle's scrapin',
Dar's too much music 'scapin',
I'se got to git to shapin'
 Myself or git de blues.
# Ben King's Verse/Presque Isle

How well I remember the day that I spent
On that far away island where all is content;
When sweet from the woodland, 'midst bramble and brake,
The birds caroled on—it seemed just for our sake,
Oh, where on this orb is a spot that we feel
The rapture of loving as on the Presque Isle?
I laved in her looks and I bathed in her smiles,
Nor thought of the nook where the serpent beguiles;
I watched the calm glow of her passionate cheek,
As in maidenhood only those blushes can speak.
How I ardently knelt at her feet to reveal
The love that was born far away on Presque Isle.
When the stars had come out in the clear northern skies
They but beamed on my soul, ah! less bright than her eyes,
And I turned in despair from the orbs up above
To gaze in the eyes of an angel of love.
Our lips met, oh! why should we longer conceal
Our love on that rapturous, star-lit Presque Isle?
I'm still looking back on that island to-day,
But my lips they are mute—I have nothing to say,
Except that my soul I claim as my own,
Tho' my soft auburn hair is all scatter'd and strown.
And after each cyclone in silence I kneel
And pray for an earthquake to sink the Presque Isle.
# Ben King's Verse/Say When, And Say It

Write me a poem that hasn't been writ,  Sing me a song that hasn't been sung yet, String out a strain that hasn't been strung,  And ring me a chime that hasn't been rung yet.
Paint me a picture but leave out the paint,  Pile up a pile of old scenes of my schoolery, Leave me alone; I would fain meditate  And mourn o'er the moments I lost in tomfoolery.
Tell me a tale that dropped out of a star,  Push me a pun that is pungent, not earthy. I must have something sharp, strident, and strong  To eke out a laugh or be moderately mirthy.
Give me a love that has never been loved,  Not knowing the glance of the bold and unwary, A cherup abreast with the saints up above,  And I'll get along and be passably merry.
But come on the fly to me, come on the jump,  Don't hang around on the outskirts and walk to me; Throw out your cest well, and hold up your head;  Say when, and say it, or else don't you talk to me.
# Ben King's Verse/Paraphrase

The master of the manor house each morn Upon his shining steed through arbored gates Rides forth and out upon the dusty road To yon small hamlet smiling on the hill. At eve rides back with swaying form; he meets The faithful footman, and, his charger placed, He wends his way into the mansion hall, While I, down here in meadow lands all day,  I only s-s-stack the hay.
The opulent lord when mellow days are come, At the high note of the red-combed chanticleer, With horse and hound and merry crowd now bent Upon the chase. Swift through fox-scented roads, Stopping, perchance, at many a wayside inn, The music of the jingling glass is his, While I down here in perfumed clover fields, Hear but the music of the lark and jay.  I only s-s-stack the hay.
Lone is the mansion on the sunlit hill, Save for the daughter of the chivalric lord, Who comes now, finger-kissed by high-topped  sheaves (Pausing the while, half startled by the quail) To where the haycocks dot the sallow fields; Comes in the roseate flush of maidenhood; Comes with a truant smile upon her lips, And romping up to me exclaiming: "Say!"  B-b-but I--I only s-s-stack the hay.
Then spake she soft as runs a summer brook Or novel of some scribe of amorous mind: "How far the huntsmen must be on the road, Because the sun comes through my window-blind; Within--strange creakings 'bout the halls: with-  out-- The scurrying leaves. So lonely am I now I've wandered here to ask whate'er betide. Wouldst cease thy work? Pray, must you toil  to-day?" "W-w-well, yes," I s-s-say, "I have t-t-to s-s-stack  the hay."
"Ah, sir!" she then replied: "A banquet spread But yesternight for me with many guests And suitors gathered 'round the festal board Sought ardently my hand; and one forth brought A golden cup in memeory of my birth. Yea, each in quest of all these lands. Kind sir, How now; wouldst thou not drink from out my  cup? Prithee, come solace me! Live while you live,  for aye." "I c-c-ca-ca-can't," I s-s-say. "I have to s-s-stack  the hay."
The days roll on and now a blasé youth Rides by the manor house. A reaper he In wisdom's fields. No importuning maid Bade him alight. She beckons. Quick he opes The gates, and, hastening to the banquet halls, He drinks to her, and, pledging endless love, They fly to distant parish. Now the hills And vales and lands that roll away are his. While I, down here in meadow-lands all day,  I only s-s-stack the hay.
# Ben King's Verse/S'posin'

What if the new San Francisco should sail  To Chilian waters away, With the Boston and Yorktown afar in the east,  'Nd the Lancaster off in Bombay; 'Nd the big Philadelphia--s'posin' she wuz  A-loadin' with tea in Japan, With the Concord and Bennington flyin' so gay  Their colors around Hindostan; 'Nd s'posin' the Charleston wuz in Bering Sea,  With the Newark in Pamlico Sound, 'Nd the Miantonomah's big bilers should bust,  'Nd the Baltimore run hard aground; Then s'posin' we got in a fight right away  With Chili or even Peru, 'Nd England should work the shell game on New  York,  Say--what in the deuce would we do?
# Ben King's Verse/Sunrise

The dim light to the sou'ward  Is the beacon of the coast, But the white light to the leeward  The mariner loves most. And whether 'tis the dim light  Or the white light to the lee, That great big hunk of daylight  Is light of lights for me. But what it is of all lights  That fills my soul with glee, Is when that hunk of daylight
 Climbs up out of the sea.
# Belts

* "Belts" in Ballads and Barrack-Room Ballads (1892)
* "Belts" in Departmental Ditties and Ballads and Barrack-Room Ballads (1919)
# Bement & Sons v. National Harrow Company

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
186 U.S. 70
E. BEMENT & SONS, Plffs. in Err., v. NATIONAL HARROW COMPANY.
Argued: April 9, 10, 1902. --- Decided: May 19, 1902

## 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
# Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ (Wallace)/Book 1/Chapter 10

CHAPTER X.
At a certain hour in the evening the shouting and stir of the people in and about the khan ceased; at the same time, every Israelite, if not already upon his feet, arose, solemnized his face, looked towards Jerusalem, crossed his hands upon his breast, and prayed; for it was the sacred ninth hour, when sacrifices were offered in the temple on Moriah, and God was supposed to be there. When the hands of the worshippers fell down, the commotion broke forth again; everybody hastened to bread, or to make his pallet. A little later, the lights were put out, and there was silence, and then sleep. ****** About midnight some one on the roof cried out, "What light is that in the sky? Awake, brethren, awake and see!"
The people, half asleep, sat up and looked; then they became wide-awake, though wonder-struck. And the stir spread to the court below, and into the lewens; soon the entire tenantry of the house and court and enclosure were out gazing at the sky.
And this was what they saw. A ray of light, beginning ​at a height immeasurably beyond the nearest stars, and dropping obliquely to the earth; at its top, a diminishing point; at its base, many furlongs in width; its sides blending softly with the darkness of the night; its core a roseate electrical splendor. The apparition seemed to rest on the nearest mountain southeast of the town, making a pale corona along the line of the summit. The khan was touched luminously, so that those upon the roof saw each other's faces, all filled with wonder.
Steadily, through minutes, the ray lingered, and then the wonder changed to awe and fear; the timid trembled; the boldest spoke in whispers.
"Saw you ever the like?" asked one.
"It seems just over the mountain there. I cannot tell what it is, nor did I ever see anything like it," was the answer.
"Can it be that a star has burst and fallen?" asked another, his tongue faltering.
"When a star falls, its light goes out."
"I have it!" cried one, confidently. "The shepherds have seen a lion, and made fires to keep him from the flocks."
The men next the speaker drew a breath of relief, and said, "Yes, that is it! The flocks were grazing in the valley over there to~day."
A bystander dispelled the comfort.
"No, no! Though all the wood in all the valleys of Judah was brought together in one pile and fired, the blaze would not throw a light so strong and high."
After that there was silence on the house-top, broken but once again while the mystery continued.
"Brethren!" exclaimed a Jew of venerable mien, "what we see is the ladder our father Jacob saw in his dream. Blessed be the Lord God of our fathers!"
# Bemis Bros. Bag Company v. United States

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
289 U.S. 28
Bemis Bros. Bag Company v. United States
Argued: Feb. 13, 14, 1933. --- Decided: March 13, 1933
Mr. Abraham Lowenhaupt, of St. Louis, Mo., for petitioner.
Mr. Erwin N. Griswold, of Washington, D.C., for the United States.
Messrs. Kingman Brewster, James S. Y. Ivins, Percy W. Phillips, O. R. Folsom-Jones, and Richard B. Barker, all of Washington, D.C., amici curiae.
Mr. Justice CARDOZO 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
# Ben-Hur

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Ben-Hur."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, 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.
* Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ, an 1880 novel by Lew Wallace
* Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ, a 1925 film by Fred Niblo
# Bar-20

* related portals: Western.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Also published as Hopalong Cassidy's Rustler Round-up. The first novel in the, then very famous Hopalong Cassidy Western series. Most chapters can also be read as separate short stories.
Layout 2
BAR-20
CLARENCE.E.MULFORD
B A R - 2 0
Being a record of certain happenings that occurred in the
otherwise peaceful lives of one Hopalong Cassidy
and his companions on the range
By
CLARENCE E. MULFORD
GROSSET & DUNLAP
Publishers New York
By arrangement with A. C. McClurg & Co.
Copyright, 1906, 1907 by THE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY
Entered at Stationer's Hall, London, England
All Rights Reserved
BAR-20
MADE IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Contents
* CHAPTERPAGE
* IBuckskin1
* IIThe Rashness of Shorty9
* IIIThe Argument13
* IVThe Vagrant Sioux23
* VThe Law of the Range33
* VITrials of the Convalescent47
* VIIThe Open Door52
* VIIIHopalong Keeps His Word60
* IXThe Advent of McAllister74
* XPeace Hath Its Victories88
* XIHolding the Claim98
* XIIThe Hospitality of Travennes118
* XIIITravennes' Discomfiture124
* XIVThe Tale of a Cigarette129
* XVThe Penalty138
* XVIRustlers on the Range145
* XVIIMr. Trendley Assumes Added Importance153
* XVIIIThe Search Begins157
* XIXHopalong's Decision162
* XXA Problem Solved168
* XXIThe Call175
* XXIIThe Showdown181
* XXIIIMr. Cassidy Meets a Woman188
* XXIVThe Strategy of Mr. Peters195
* XXVMr. Ewalt Draws Cards202
BAR-20
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1956, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 67 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Bihn v. United States/Dissent Black

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
* Dissenting Opinion Black
United States Supreme Court
328 U.S. 633
BIHN v. UNITED STATES.
Argued: March 26, 1946. --- Decided: June 10, 1946
Mr. Justice BLACK dissenting.
The jury found this defendant guilty beyond a reasonable doubt after the trial judge had charged that: 'A defendant is not required to establish his innocence but the Government must establish guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. If the facts and circumstances surrounding the case are as consistent with innocence as with guilt, he is not guilty.' Six other times the judge explicitly charged the jury to the same effect: The defendant's innocence is presumed; she need not prove it; the burden is on the Government to prove her guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Yet the Court now reverses on the ground that the jury might conceivably have taken three sentences in the trial judge's charge to mean that the defendant must prove innocence, which conceivably might have led the jury to believe that the court might have intended to withdraw his seven explicit instructions to the contrary. The three sentences were: 'Did she steal them? Who did if she did not? You are to decide that.' Instructions such as these as to who stole the coupons were necessary because of the petitioner's defense that somebody else had taken them. The trial judge was obviously telling the jury not to ignore the petitioner's defense. No reference was made to burden of proof and no ordinary juror, unskilled in legal dialectics, would have suspected the latent ambiguity which the Court has discovered. Of course, hypercritical scrutiny of each word and sentence in every charge when considered alone would always reveal dual meanings. The sentences here in question, like the sentences in every charge, should be given a common sense interpretation in their relationship to all instructions and the issues raised. When so considered, it is impossible for me to believe that the jury was confused as to burden of proof. Seven correct explicit instructions should not be considered neutralized by legalistic inferences established by purely formal analysis.
Mr. Justice REED and Mr. Justice BURTON join in this dissent.

## 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