OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# History of Iowa From the Earliest Times to the Beginning of the Twentieth Century/4/D. Franklin Wells

​ D. FRANKLIN WELLS was born in Oneida County, New York, June 22, 1830. His early education was acquired in the common schools and later he graduated from the State Normal School at Albany. In 1853 he came to Muscatine, Iowa, where he was chosen principal of one of the city schools. In 1856 he was placed in charge of the Normal Department of the State University, serving in that capacity for ten years. In 1867 he was appointed by the Governor, Superintendent of Public Instruction to fill a vacancy occasioned by the resignation of Oran Faville, and at the following general election was chosen for a full term. He died in November, 1868, in the thirty-ninth year of his age. Henry Sabin pronounced Professor Wells the recognized leader of the educational forces of the State at the period when he was thus actively engaged in the work, and adds that he literally gave his life to the cause.
# Harris v. Bell

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
254 U.S. 103
Harris v. Bell
Argued: Jan. 26, 1920. --- Decided: Nov 15, 1920
Mr. James C. Davis, of Muskogee, Okl., for appellants.
Messrs. William M. Matthews, of Kansas City, Mo., and George S. Ramsey, of Muskogee, Okl., for appellees.
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
# Harris Truck Lines, Inc. v. Cherry Meat Packers, Inc./Dissent Harlan

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
* Dissenting Opinion Harlan
United States Supreme Court
371 U.S. 215
Harris Truck Lines, Inc. v. Cherry Meat Packers, Inc.
Mr. Justice HARLAN (dissenting).
I would have denied certiorari on the ground that this case does not qualify for review under Rule 19 of this Court, 28 U.S.C.A.
Reaching the merits, however, I would affirm the judgment below substantially for the reasons given by the Court of Appeals. Harris Truck Lines, Inc. v. Cherry Meat Packers, Inc., 7 Cir., 303 F.2d 609. Cf. Link v. Wabash Railroad Co., 370 U.S. 626, 633-634, 82 S.Ct. 1386, 1390-1391, 8 L.Ed.2d 734; United States v. Robinson, 361 U.S. 220, 80 S.Ct. 282, 4 L.Ed.2d 259.

## 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
# Greybeards at Play/Envoy
### Envoy

Clear was the night: the moon was young:
    The larkspurs in the plots
Mingled their orange with the gold
    Of the forget-me-nots.
The poppies seemed a silver mist:
    So darkly fell the gloom.
You scarce had guessed yon crimson streaks
    Were buttercups in bloom.
But one thing moved: a little child
    Crashed through the flower and fern:
And all my soul rose up to greet
    The sage of whom I learn.
I looked into his awful eyes:
    I waited his decree:
I made ingenious attempts
    To sit upon his knee.
The babe upraised his wondering eyes,
    And timidly he said,
"A trend towards experiment
    In modern minds is bred.
"I feel the will to roam, to learn
    By test, experience, _nous_,
That fire is hot and ocean deep,
    And wolves carnivorous.
"My brain demands complexity."
    The lisping cherub cried.
I looked at him, and only said,
    "Go on. The world is wide."
A tear rolled down his pinafore,
    "Yet from my life must pass
The simple love of sun and moon,
    The old games in the grass;
"Now that my back is to my home
    Could these again be found?"
I looked on him, and only said,
    "Go on. The world is round."
# Greybeards at Play/Oneness
### The Oneness of the Philosopher With Nature

I love to see the little stars
    All dancing to one tune;
I think quite highly of the Sun,
    And kindly of the Moon.
The million forests of the Earth
    Come trooping in to tea.
The great Niagara waterfall
    Is never shy with me.
I am the tiger's confidant,
    And never mention names:
The lion drops the formal "Sir,"
    And lets me call him James.
Into my ear the blushing Whale
    Stammers his love. I know
Why the Rhinoceros is sad,
    --Ah, child! 'twas long ago.
I am akin to all the Earth
    By many a tribal sign:
The aged Pig will often wear
    That sad, sweet smile of mine.
My niece, the Barnacle, has got
    My piercing eyes of black;
The Elephant has got my nose,
    I do not want it back.
I know the strange tale of the Slug;
    The Early Sin--the Fall--
The Sleep--the Vision--and the Vow--
    The Quest--the Crown--the Call.
And I have loved the Octopus,
    Since we were boys together.
I love the Vulture and the Shark:
    I even love the weather.
I love to bask in sunny fields,
    And when that hope is vain,
I go and bask in Baker Street,
    All in the pouring rain.
Come snow! where fly, by some strange law,
    Hard snowballs--without noise--
Through streets untenanted, except
    By good unconscious boys.
Come fog! exultant mystery--
    Where, in strange darkness rolled,
The end of my own nose becomes
    A lovely legend old.
Come snow, and hail, and thunderbolts,
    Sleet, fire, and general fuss;
Come to my arms, come all at once--
    Oh photograph me thus!
# Greybeards at Play
### A Dedication

TO E.C.B.
He was, through boyhood's storm and shower,
    My best, my nearest friend;
We wore one hat, smoked one cigar,
    One standing at each end.
We were two hearts with single hope,
    Two faces in one hood;
I knew the secrets of his youth;
    I watched his every mood.
The little things that none but I
    Saw were beyond his wont,
The streaming hair, the tie behind,
    The coat tails worn in front.
I marked the absent-minded scream,
    The little nervous trick
Of rolling in the grate, with eyes
    By friendship's light made quick.
But youth's black storms are gone and past,
    Bare is each aged brow;
And, since with age we're growing bald,
    Let us be babies now.
Learning we knew; but still to-day,
    With spelling-book devotion,
Words of one syllable we seek
    In moments of emotion.
Riches we knew; and well dressed dolls--
    Dolls living--who expressed
No filial thoughts, however much
    You thumped them in the chest.
Old happiness is grey as we,
    And we may still outstrip her;
If we be slippered pantaloons,
    Oh let us hunt the slipper!
The old world glows with colours clear;
    And if, as saith the saint,
The world is but a painted show,
    Oh let us lick the paint!
Far, far behind are morbid hours,
    And lonely hearts that bleed.
Far, far behind us are the days,
    When we were old indeed.
Leave we the child: he is immersed
    With scientists and mystics:
With deep prophetic voice he cries
    Canadian food statistics.
But now I know how few and small,
    The things we crave need be--
Toys and the universe and you--
    A little friend to tea.
Behold the simple sum of things,
    Where, in one splendour spun,
The stars go round the Mulberry Bush,
    The Burning Bush, the Sun.
Now we are old and wise and grey,
    And shaky at the knees;
Now is the true time to delight
    In picture books like these.
Hoary and bent I dance one hour:
    What though I die at morn?
There is a shout among the stars,
    "To-night a child is born."
# Greybeards at Play/Contents
### Contents

* The Oneness of the Philosopher With Nature
* Of the Dangers Attending Alturism on the High Seas
* On the Disastrous Spread of Aestheticism in All Classes
* Envoy
# Greyfriar's Bobby

(1912)
* Chapter I
* Chapter II
* Chapter III
* Chapter IV
* Chapter V
* Chapter VI
* Chapter VII
* Chapter VIII
* Chapter IX
* Chapter X
* Chapter XI
* Chapter XII
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 1942, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 81 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
# Greybeards at Play/Dangers
### Of the Dangers Attending Alturism on the High Seas

Observe these Pirates bold and gay,
    That sail a gory sea:
Notice their bright expression:--
    The handsome one is me.
We plundered ships and harbours,
    We spoiled the Spanish main;
But Nemesis watched over us,
    For it began to rain.
Oh all well-meaning folk take heed!
    Our Captain's fate was sore;
A more well-meaning Pirate,
    Had never dripped with gore.
The rain was pouring long and loud,
    The sea was drear and dim;
A little fish was floating there:
    Our Captain pitied him.
"How sad," he said, and dropped a tear
    Splash on the cabin roof,
"That we are dry, while he is there
    Without a waterproof.
"We'll get him up on board at once;
    For Science teaches me,
He will be wet if he remains
    Much longer in the sea."
They fished him out; the First Mate wept,
    And came with rugs and ale:
The Boatswain brought him one golosh,
    And fixed it on his tail.
But yet he never loved the ship;
    Against the mast he'd lean;
If spoken to, he coughed and smiled,
    And blushed a pallid green.
Though plied with hardbake, beef and beer,
    He showed no wish to sup:
The neatest riddles they could ask,
    He always gave them up.
They seized him and court-martialled him,
    In some excess of spleen,
For lack of social sympathy,
    (Victoria xii. 18).
They gathered every evidence
    That might remove a doubt:
They wrote a postcard in his name,
    And partly scratched it out.
Till, when his guilt was clear as day,
    With all formality
They doomed the traitor to be drowned,
    And threw him in the sea.
The flashing sunset, as he sank,
    Made every scale a gem;
And, turning with a graceful bow,
    He kissed his fin to them.
MORAL.
I am, I think I have remarked,
    Terrifically old,
(The second Ice-age was a farce,
    The first was rather cold.)
A friend of mine, a trilobite
    Had gathered in his youth,
When trilobites _were_ trilobites,
    This all-important truth.
We aged ones play solemn parts--
    Sire--guardian--uncle--king.
Affection is the salt of life,
    Kindness a noble thing.
The old alone may comprehend
    A sense in my decree;
But--if you find a fish on land,
    Oh throw it in the sea.
# Greybeards at Play/Spread
### On the Disastrous Spread of Aestheticism in All Classes

Impetuously I sprang from bed,
    Long before lunch was up,
That I might drain the dizzy dew
    From day's first golden cup.
In swift devouring ecstacy
    Each toil in turn was done;
I had done lying on the lawn
    Three minutes after one.
For me, as Mr. Wordsworth says,
    The duties shine like stars;
I formed my uncle's character,
    Decreasing his cigars.
But could my kind engross me? No!
    Stern Art--what sons escape her?
Soon I was drawing Gladstone's nose
    On scraps of blotting paper.
Then on--to play one-fingered tunes
    Upon my aunt's piano.
In short, I have a headlong soul,
    I much resemble Hanno.
(Forgive the entrance of the not
    Too cogent Carthaginian.
It may have been to make a rhyme;
    I lean to that opinion).
Then my great work of book research
    Till dusk I took in hand--
The forming of a final, sound
    Opinion on _The Strand_.
But when I quenched the midnight oil,
    And closed _The Referee_,
Whose thirty volumes folio
    I take to bed with me,
I had a rather funny dream,
    Intense, that is, and mystic;
I dreamed that, with one leap and yell,
    The world became artistic.
The Shopmen, when their souls were still,
    Declined to open shops--
And Cooks recorded frames of mind
    In sad and subtle chops.
The stars were weary of routine:
    The trees in the plantation
Were growing every fruit at once,
    In search of a sensation.
The moon went for a moonlight stroll,
    And tried to be a bard,
And gazed enraptured at itself:
    I left it trying hard.
The sea had nothing but a mood
    Of 'vague ironic gloom,'
With which t'explain its presence in
    My upstairs drawing-room.
The sun had read a little book
    That struck him with a notion:
He drowned himself and all his fires
    Deep in the hissing ocean.
Then all was dark, lawless, and lost:
    I heard great devilish wings:
I knew that Art had won, and snapt
    The Covenant of Things.
I cried aloud, and I awoke,
    New labours in my head.
I set my teeth, and manfully
    Began to lie in bed.
Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,
    So I my life conduct.
Each morning see some task begun,
    Each evening see it chucked.
But still, in sudden moods of dusk,
    I hear those great weird wings,
Feel vaguely thankful to the vast
    Stupidity of things.
# French Castles

Serialized article, as published in Once a Week.
* Part 1
* Part 2
# French Constitution of 1848

English-language translations of Constitution du 4 novembre 1848 include:
* Constitution of 1848, translated by Frank Maloy Anderson (1908).
* French Constitution of 1848 (New York Translation), translated by the New York-based Bureau de Courrier des Etats-Unis (1848).
# Hymns for Childhood/Errata

ERRATA.
Page 27, line 6, for find read bind. Page— — — 43, line— — — 3, for light read night.
# Hymns for Childhood/Hymn by the Sick Bed of a Mother

HYMN
BY THE SICK BED OF A MOTHER.
Father! that in the olive shade  When the dark hour came on, Didst, with a breath of heavenly aid, Strengthen thy Son;
Oh! by the anguish of that night,  Send us down blest relief; Or to the chastened, let Thy might Hallow this grief!
And Thou, that when the starry sky
 Saw the dread strife begun,
Didst teach adoring faith to cry,
"Thy will be done;"
By thy meek spirit, Thou, of all
 That e'er have mourned the chief— Thou Saviour! if the stroke must fall,
Hallow this grief!
THE END.
# Hymns for Childhood/Psalm 147, Paraphrased

PARAPHRASE OF PSALM CXLVII.
Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord from the heavens; praise him in the heights.
Praise ye the Lord! on every height  Songs to his glory raise! Ye angel-hosts, ye stars of light,  Join in immortal praise!
Oh! heavens of heavens! let praise far-swelling  From all thine orbs be sent! Join in the strain, ye waters, dwelling  Above the firmament!
For His the word which gave you birth,
 And majesty, and might; Praise to the Highest from the earth,
 And let the deeps unite!
Oh! fire and vapor, hail and snow,
 Ye servants of His will!
Oh! stormy winds, that only blow  His mandates to fulfil;
Mountains and rocks, to heaven that rise;
 Fair cedars of the wood;
Creatures of life, that wing the skies,
 Or track the plains for food;
Judges of nations! kings, whose hand  Waves the proud sceptre high!
Oh! youths and virgins of the land,
 Oh! age and infancy!
Praise ye His name, to whom alone  All homage should be given;
Whose glory, from the eternal throne  Spreads wide o'er earth and heaven!
# Hymns for Childhood/Introductory Verses

HYMNS FOR CHILDHOOD.
INTRODUCTORY VERSES.
Oh! blest art thou, whose steps may rove, Through the green paths of vale and grove, Or, leaving all their charms below,
Climb the wild mountain's airy brow;
And gaze afar o'er cultured plains,
And cities with their stately fanes,
And forests, that beneath thee lie,
And ocean mingling with the sky.
For man can shew thee nought so fair,
As Nature's varied marvels there;
And if thy pure and artless breast, Can feel their grandeur, thou art blest!
For thee the stream in beauty flows,
For thee the gale of summer blows, And, in deep glen and wood-walk free,
Voices of joy still breathe for thee.
But happier far, if then thy soul Can soar to Him who made the whole, If to thine eye the simplest flower Portray His bounty and His power:
If, in whate'er is bright or grand,
Thy mind can trace His viewless hand,
If Nature's music bid thee raise Thy song of gratitude and praise;
If heaven and earth, with beauty fraught,
Lead to His throne thy raptured thought; If there thou lov'st His love to read,
Then, wanderer, thou art blest indeed!
# Hymns for Childhood/The Child's First Grief

THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF.
"Oh! call my brother back to me!  I cannot play alone; The summer comes with flower and bee—  Where is my brother gone?
The butterfly is glancing bright  Across the sunbeam's track; I care not now to chase its flight—  Oh! call my brother back!
The flowers run wild—the flowers we sowed  Around our garden tree; Our vine is drooping with its load—  Oh! call him back to me!"
"He would not hear thy voice, fair child
 He may not come to thee;
The face that once like spring-time smiled,
 On earth no more thou'lt see.
"A rose's brief bright life of joy,
 Such unto him was given;
Go—thou must play alone, my boy!
 Thy brother is in heaven."
"And has he left his birds and flowers;
 And must I call in vain?
And thro' the long, long summer hours,
 Will he not come again?
"And by the brook and in the glade
 Are all our wanderings o'er?
Oh! while my brother with me play'd,
 Would I had lov'd him more!"
# Hymns for Childhood/The Nightingale—Child's Evening Hymn

THE NIGHTINGALE.
CHILD'S EVENING HYMN.
When twilight's grey and pensive hour Brings the low breeze, and shuts the flower, And bids the solitary star Shine in pale beauty from afar.
When gathering shades the landscape veil, And peasants seek their village-dale, And mists from river-wave arise, And dew in every blossom lies;
When evening's primrose opes, to shed
Soft fragrance round her grassy bed;
When glow-worms in the wood-walk light Their lamp, to cheer the traveller's sight;
At that calm hour, so still, so pale,
Awakes the lonely Nightingale;
And from a hermitage of shade
Fills with her voice the forest-glade;
And sweeter far that melting voice,
Than all which through the day rejoice;
And still shall bard and wanderer love The twilight music of the grove.
Father in Heaven! oh! thus when day
With all its cares hath passed away,
And silent hours waft peace on earth,
And hush the louder strains of mirth;
Thus may sweet songs of praise and prayer To Thee my spirit's offering bear;
Yon star, my signal, set on high,
For vesper-hymns of piety.
So may thy mercy and thy power Protect me through the midnight hour;
And balmy sleep and visions blest Smile on thy servant's bed of rest.
# Hymns for Childhood/Epitaph on Two Brothers

EPITAPH
OVER THE GRAVE OF TWO BROTHERS,
A CHILD AND A YOUTH.
Thou, that canst gaze upon thine own fair boy,  And hear his prayer's low murmur at thy knee, And o'er his slumber bend in breathless joy,  Come to this tomb! it hath a voice for thee! Pray!—thou art blest—ask strength for sorrow's hour,  Love, deep as thine, lays here its broken flower.
Thou that art gathering from the smile of youth,
 Thy thousand hopes—rejoicing to behold
All the heart's depths before thee bright with truth,
 All the mind's treasure silently unfold;
Look on this tomb!—for thee, too, speaks the grave,
 Where God hath seal'd the fount of hope he gave.
# Hymns for Childhood/On a Similar Occasion

ON A SIMILAR OCCASION.
Thou wak'st from happy sleep to play  With bounding heart, my Boy! Before thee lies a long bright day  Of summer and of joy.
Thou hast no heavy thought or dream  To cloud thy fearless eye;— Long be it thus—life’s early stream  Should still reflect the sky.
Yet ere the cares of life lie dim  On thy young spirit's wings, Now in thy morn forget not Him  From whom each pure thought springs!
So in the onward vale of tears,
 Where'er thy path may be,
When strength hath bowed to evil years,  He will remember thee!
# Hymns for Childhood/The Birds

THE BIRDS.
Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God.—St. Luke, xii, 6.
Tribes of the air! whose favored race May wander through the realms of space,  Free guests of earth and sky; In form, in plumage, and in song, What gifts of nature mark your throng  With bright variety!
Nor differ less your forms, your flight,
Your dwellings hid from hostile sight,
 And the wild haunts ye love;
Birds of the gentle beak!* how dear Your wood-note, to the wanderer's ear,
 In shadowy vale or grove!
Far other scenes, remote, sublime,
Where swain or hunter may not climb,
 The mountain-eagle seeks;
Alone he reigns, a monarch there,
Scarce will the chamois' footstep dare
 Ascend his Alpine peaks.
Others there are, that make their home Where the white billows roar and foam,
 Around the o'erhanging rock;
Fearless they skim the angry wave,
Or sheltered in their sea-beat cave,
 The tempest's fury mock.
Where Afric's burning realm expands,
The ostrich haunts the desert sands,
 Parched by the blaze of day;
The swan, where northern rivers glide,
Through the tall reeds that fringe their tide,
 Floats graceful on her way.
The condor, where the Andes tower, Spreads his broad wing of pride and power,
 And many a storm defies; Bright in the orient realms of morn,
All beauty's richest hues adorn  The Bird of Paradise.
Some, amidst India's grove of palm,
And spicy forests breathing balm,
 Weave soft their pendent nest;
Some, deep in Western wilds, display Their fairy form and plumage gay,
 In rainbow colors drest.
Others no varied song may pour,
May boast no eagle-plume to soar,
 No tints of light may wear;
Yet, know, our Heavenly Father guides The least of these, and well provides  For each, with tenderest care.
Shall He not then thy guardian be? Will not his aid extend to thee?  Oh! safely may'st thou rest!— Trust in his love, and e'en should pain,
Should sorrow tempt thee to complain,
 Know, what He wills is best!
# Hymns for Childhood/The Hour of Prayer

THE HOUR OF PRAYER.
Child! amidst the flowers at play, While the red light fades away; Mother! with thine earnest eye, Ever watching silently; Father! by the breeze of eve Called, thy harvest-work to leave; Pray! ere yet the dark hours be— Lift the heart and bend the knee!
Traveller! in the stranger's land,
Far from thine own household band;
Mourner! haunted by the tone
Of a voice from this world flown;
Captive! in whose narrow cell
Sunshine has not leave to dwell;
Sailor! on the darkening sea—
Lift the heart and bend the knee!
Warrior! that from battle won
Breathest now at set of sun;
Woman! o'er the lowly slain
Weeping on his burial plain;
Ye that triumph, ye that sigh,
Kindred by one holy tie,
Heaven's first star alike ye see—
Lift the heart and bend the knee!