OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The History of Valentine and Orson (1806)/Chapter 2

CHAP. II.
Valentine conquers his brother in the Forest of Orleans.
Now was Valentine grown a lusty young man, and by the King was greatly beloved as if he had been his own child; commanding him to be taught the use of arms, in which he soon became an expert, that few in the court dared to encounter him; ​which made Hufray and Henry, the King's bastard sons, exceedingly envy him.—At this juncture great complaints were made against the Wild Man, from whom no Knight had escaped with his life that had encountered him; which made the King promise a thousand merks to any one that should bring him dead or alive; which offer none dared to accept; but Hufray and Henry desired King Pepin to send Valentine, with a view of getting rid of to powerful a rival in the King's favour; but his Majesty seeing their malice, was very angry; telling them, he had rather lose the best baron in the land.
However, Valentine desired leave of his Majesty to go to the forest, resolving either to conquer the Wild Man, or die in the attempt. Accordingly, having furnished himself with a good horse and arms, he set forward on his journey, and after hard travelling, he arrived in the forest; in the evening he tied his horse to a large spreading oak; and got up into a tree himself for his security, where he rested for that night.
​Next morning he beheld the Wild Man traversing the forest in search of his prey, at length he came to the tree where Valentine's horse stood, from whom he pulled many hairs, upon which the horse kicked him, the Wild Man feeling the pain, was going to tear him to pieces, which Valentine seeing, made signs as if he would fight him, and accordingly he leaped down and gave him a blow; but the Wild Man caught him by the arm, and threw him to the ground. Then taking up Valentine's shield, he beheld it with amaze, in respect to the colours thereon emblazoned.
Valentine being much bruised, got up, and came to his brother in great anger; but Orson ran to a tree, and then they engaged; but both being terribly wounded, gave out by consent; after which Valentine signified to Orson, that if he would yield to him, he would order matters so as he would become a rational creature.
Orson, thinking that he meant no harm, stretched forth his hands to him. Upon which he bound him, and then led him to Paris, where he pre​sented him to King Pepin, who had the Wild Man baptised by the name of Orson, from his being taken in a wood.' Orson's actions, during their stay there, very much amused the whole court, so that at length the duke of Acquitain sent letters, importing, that whoever should overcome the Green Knight, a fierce Pagan champion, should have his daughter Fazon in marriage. Upon which proposition, Valentine set out for that province, attended by his brother Orson, by which means he came to the knowledge of his parents, as we shall find hereafter.
# The Leopard's Spots (1902)/Book 1/Chapter 21

NELSE was elated over the defeat and dissolution of the Leagues that had persecuted him with such malignant hatred. When the news of the election came he was still in bed suffering from his wounds. He had received an internal injury that threatened to prove fatal.
"Dar now!" he cried, sitting up in bed, "Ain't I done tole you no kinky-headed niggers gwine ter run dis gov'ment!"
"Keep still dar, ole man, you'll be faintin' ergin," worried Aunt Eve.
"Na honey, I'se feelin' better. Gwine ter git up and meander down town en ax dem niggers how's de Ku Kluxes comin' on dese days."
In spite of all Eve could say he crawled out of bed, fumbled into his clothes and started down town, leaning heavily on his cane. He had gone about a block, when he suddenly reeled and fell. Eve was watching him from the door, and was quickly by his side. He died that afternoon at three o'clock. He regained consciousness before the end, and asked Eve for his banjo.
He put it lovingly into the hands of Charlie Gaston who stood by the bed crying.
"You keep 'er, honey. You lub 'er talk better'n any body in de work, en 'member Nelse when you hear 'er moan en sigh. En when she talk short en sassy en make ​'em all gin ter shuffle, dat's me too. Dat's me got back in 'er."
Charlie Gaston rode with Aunt Eve to the cemetery. He walked back home through the fields with Dick.
"I wouldn' cry 'bout er ole nigger!" said Dick looking into his reddened eyes.
"Can't help it. He was my best friend."
"Haint I wid you?"
"Yes, but you ain't Nelse."
"Well, I stan' by you des de same."
# The King's Son and the Painted Lion

Perry index 363
* "An Old Man and a Lyon", translated by Roger L'Estrange, in Fables of Æsop and Other Eminent Mythologists (1692)
* "The King's Son and the Painted Lion", translated by George Fyler Townsend, in Three Hundred Æsop's Fables (1867)
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 King's Way

    The newest street in London town,
       The Kingsway, the Kingsway!
    The newest street in London town,
    Who’ll pace it up and pace it down?
    The brave, the strong, who strive and try,
    And think and work, who fight and die
    To make their England’s royal way
       The King’s Way, the King’s Way!
    The noblest street in London town,
       The Kingsway, the Kingsway!
    The noblest street in London town,
    The stir of life beats up and down;
    In serried ranks the sabres shine,
    And Art and Craft and Thought divine,
    All crowd and fill the great highway,
       The Kingsway, the Kingsway!
    On dreary roads in London town
    The sick and poor sink sadly down in gloom:
    But grace and pity meet
    When King and Queen stretch hands and greet
    The weary ones;
    This, they say,
    Our King’s way, and our Queen’s way.
    There is a path across the deep, -
       The King’s Way, the King’s Way!
    There’s a path across the deep, -
    A path the Island ships shall keep;
    A way by which to those we win,
    Whose hands we clasp, whose hearts are kin,
    England’s sons across the sea;
    They too will fight to keep it free:
    Let ev’ry voice in England say, -
    ”God keep the way by night and day,
    The King of England’s Way!”
       The King’s Way, the King’s Way!
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 Life and Work of Friedrich Engels

The Life and Work of Friedrich Engels
By ZELDA KAHAN-COATES
In Commemoration of the Engels Centenary 1820—November 28—1920
LONDON The Communist Party of Great Britain 21a Maiden Lane, W.C.2 1920
page
THE LIFE & WORK of FRIEDRICH ENGELS
page
THE LIFE AND WORK OF FRIEDRICH ENGELS
by ZELDA KAHAN-COATES
The COMMUNIST PARTY of GREAT BRITAIN 21a Maiden Lane, W.C.
1920
page
​Contents
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published in 1920, before the cutoff of January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1969, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 54 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
# The Life and Work of Friedrich Engels/Chapter 13

​ An End to "Sweet Commerce"
Towards the end of 1868 we find Engels concerned with the ending of his partnership in the cotton business, and it proves what a good man of business he must have been that his partner, Ermen, was willing to buy him out with a large sum of money in return for Engels binding himself not to open up a business in the same trade on his own account (a thing Engels would, in any case, not have dreamt of doing, as we have seen above).
However, Engels' one concern was that he should have enough to support Marx adequately, and as the sum offered him by Ermen would be sufficient to enable him to give Marx a regular £350 a year, ​besides paying for unforeseen incidental expenses—doctor's bills, etc., for about five or six years, he asks Marx to let him know the exact sum of his debts and whether if he (Engels) clears these completely first he could then manage to live on £350 (and extras) without making any further debts, as upon that depends how he will deal with Ermen's offer. What will happen after the five or six years he does not know. He will even then be able to assure Marx at least £150 a year, and he hopes that something else may turn up so as to enable him to make that sum larger, and that Marx's literary work may bring him in something. If £350 is not sufficient, Marx must let him know immediately what yearly sum would be enough. No wonder Marx replies that he is quite "knocked down" by Engels' goodness!
At last, July 1, 1869, Engels writes:—
"Hurrah! To-day I have done with sweet commerce and am a free man. … Gottfried (Ermen) has given way in everything. Tussy (Marx's youngest daughter Eleanor, who was spending a few weeks with Engels and his wife) and I have celebrated my first free day by taking a long country walk this morning. In addition, my eye (he had been troubled with his eyes for some time) is getting much better, and with a little care will be quite all right soon.
"The balances and lawyers will still tie me somewhat for a few more weeks—but this will no longer mean the enormous loss of time of hitherto. …"
To this Marx replies:—
"Best congratulations on your liberation from the Egyptian bondage! In honour of this event, I have taken a glass too much, bu late in the evening, not like the Prussian gendarmes before dawn. …"
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 9/Chapter 27

CHAP. XXVII.
My uncle Toby's Map is carried down into the kitchen.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 9/Chapter 28

CHAP. XXVIII.
——— And here is the Maes—and this is the Sambre; said the Corporal, pointing with his right hand extended a little towards the map, and his left upon Mrs. Bridget's shoulder———but not the shoulder next him—and this, said he, is the town of Namur—and this the citadel—and there lay the French—and here lay his honour and myself—and in this cursed trench, Mrs. Bridget, quoth the Corporal, taking her by the hand, did he receive the wound which crush'd him so miserably here—In pronouncing which he slightly press'd the back of her hand towards the part he felt for—and let it fall.
​We thought, Mr. Trim, it had been more in the middle—said Mrs. Bridget—
That would have undone us for ever—said the Corporal.
—And left my poor mistress undone too—said Bridget.
The Corporal made no reply to the reparture, but by giving Mrs. Bridget a kiss.
Come—come—said Bridget—holding the palm of her left-hand parallel to the plane of the horizon, and sliding the fingers of the other over it, in a way which could not have been done, had there been the least wart or protube​rance—'Tis every syllable of it false, cried the Corporal, before she had half finished the sentence—
—I know it to be fact, said Bridget, from credible witnesses.
———Upon my honour, said the Corporal, laying his hand upon his heart, and blushing as he spoke with honest resentment—'tis a story, Mrs. Bridget, as false as hell—Not, said Bridget, interrupting him, that either I or my mistress care a halfpenny about it, whether 'tis so or no———only that when one is married, one would chuse to have such a thing by one at least—
​It was somewhat unfortunate for Mrs. Bridget, that she had begun the attack with her manual exercise; for the Corporal instantly * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 9/Chapter 23

CHAP. XXIII.
Mrs. Bridget had pawn'd all the little stock of honour a poor chambermaid was worth in the world, that she would get to the bottom of the affair in ten days; and it was built upon one of the most concessible postulatum in nature: namely, that whilst my uncle Toby was making love to her mistress, the Corporal could find nothing better to do, than make love to her—"And I'll let him as much as he will," said Bridget, "to get it out of him."
Friendship has two garments; an outer, and an under one. Bridget was ​serving her mistress's interests in the one—and doing the thing which most pleased herself in the other; so had as many stakes depending upon my uncle Toby's wound, as the Devil himself———Mrs. Wadman had but one—and as it possibly might be her last (without discouraging Mrs. Bridget, or discrediting her talents) was determined to play her cards herself.
She wanted not encouragement: a child might have look'd into his hand—there was such a plainness and simplicity in his playing out what trumps he had—with such an unmistrusting ignorance of the ten-ace—and so naked and defenceless did he sit upon the ​same sopha with widow Wadman, that a generous heart would have wept to have won the game of him.
Let us drop the metaphor.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 9/Chapter 21

CHAP. XXI.
As there are fifty different ends (counting all ends in—as well civil as religious) for which a woman takes a husband, she first sets about and carefully weighs, then separates and distinguishes in her mind, which of all that number of ends, is hers: then by discourse, enquiry, argumentation and inference, she investigates and finds out whether she has got hold of the right one—and if she has—then, by pulling it gently this way and that way, she further forms a judgment, whether it will not break in the drawing.
The imagery under which Slawkenbergius impresses this upon his reader's fancy, ​in the beginning of his third Decad, is so ludicrous, that the honour I bear the sex, will not suffer me to quote it—otherwise 'tis not destitute of humour.
"She first, saith Slawkenbergius, stops the asse, and holding his halter in her left hand (lest he should get away) she thrusts her right hand into the very bottom of his pannier to search for it—For what?—you'll not know the sooner, quoth Slawkenbergius, for interrupting me———
"I have nothing, good Lady, but empty bottles;" says the asse.
"I'm loaded with tripes;" says the second.
———And thou art a little better, quoth she to the third; for nothing is there in ​thy panniers but trunk-hose and pantofles—and so to the fourth and fifth, going on one by one through the whole string, till coming to the asse which carries it, she turns the pannier upside down, looks at it—considers it—samples it—measures it—stretches it—wets it—dries it—then takes her teeth both to the warp and weft of it———
———Of what? for the love of Christ!
I am determined, answered Slawkenbergius, that all the powers upon earth shall never wring that secret from my breast.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 9/Chapter 22

CHAP. XXII.
We live in a world beset on all sides with mysteries and riddles—and so 'tis no matter—else it seems strange, that Nature, who makes every thing so well to answer its destination, and seldom or never errs, unless for pastime, in giving such forms and aptitudes to whatever passes through her hands, that whether she designs for the plough, the caravan, the cart—or whatever other creature she models, be it but an asse's foal, you are sure to have the thing you wanted; and yet at the same time should so eternally bungle it as she does, in making so simple a thing as a married man.
​Whether it is in the choice of the clay———or that it is frequently spoiled in the baking; by an excess of which a husband may turn out too crusty (you know) on one hand—or not enough so, through defect of heat, on the other—or whether this great Artificer is not so attentive to the little Platonic exigences of that part of the species, for whose use she is fabricating this—or that her Ladyship sometimes scarce knows what sort of a husband will do—I know not: we will discourse about it after supper.
It is enough, that neither the observation itself, or the reasoning upon it, are at all to the purpose—but rather against it; since with regard to my uncle ​Toby's fitness for the marriage state, nothing was ever better: she had formed him of the best and kindliest clay—had temper'd it with her own milk, and breathed into it the sweetest spirit—she had made him all gentle, generous and humane—she had fill'd his heart with trust and confidence, and disposed every passage which led to it, for the communication of the tenderest offices—she had moreover considered the other causes for which matrimony was ordained———
And accordingly * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *.
The donation was not defeated by my uncle Toby's wound.
​Now this last article was somewhat apocryphal; and the Devil, who is the great disturber of our faiths in this world, had raised scruples in Mrs. Wadman's brain about it; and like a true devil as he was, had done his own work at the same time, by turning my uncle Toby's Virtue thereupon into nothing but empty bottles, tripes, trunk-hose, and pantofles.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 9/Chapter 29

CHAP. XXIX.
It was like the momentary contest in the moist eye-lids of an April morning, "Whether Bridget should laugh or cry."
She snatch'd up a rolling-pin—'twas ten to one, she had laugh'd—
She laid it down—she cried; and had one single tear of 'em but tasted of bitterness, full sorrowful would the Corporal's heart have been that he had used the argument; but the Corporal understood the sex, a quart major to a terce at least, better, than my uncle Toby, and accordingly he assailed Mrs. Bridget after this manner.
​I know, Mrs. Bridget, said the Corporal, giving her a most respectful kiss, that thou art good and modest by nature, and art withal so generous a girl in thyself, that if I know thee rightly, thou wouldst not wound an insect, much less the honour of so gallant and worthy a soul as my master, wast thou sure to be made a countess of———but thou hast been set on, and deluded, dear Bridget, as is often a woman's case, "to please others more than themselves—"
Bridget's eyes poured down at the sensations the Corporal excited.
—Tell me—tell me then, my dear Bridget, continued the Corporal, taking hold of her hand, which hung ​down dead by her side,—and giving a second kiss—whose suspicion has misled thee?
Bridget sobb'd a sob or two—then open'd her eyes—the Corporal wiped 'em with the bottom of her apron—she then open'd her heart and told him all.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 9/Chapter 3

CHAP. III.
My uncle Toby turn'd his head more than once behind him, to see how he was supported by the Corporal; and the Corporal as oft as he did it, gave a slight flourish with his stick—but not vapouringly; and with the sweetest accent of most respectful encouragement, bid his honour "never fear."
Now my uncle Toby did fear; and grievously too: he knew not (as my father had reproach'd him) so much as the right end of a Woman from the wrong, and therefore was never altogether at his ease near any one of them—unless in sorrow or distress; then infinite was his pity; nor would the most courteous ​knight of romance have gone further, at least upon one leg, to have wiped away a tear from a woman's eye; and yet excepting once that he was beguiled into it by Mrs. Wadman, he had never looked stedfastly into one; and would often tell my father in the simplicity of his heart, that it was almost (if not alout) as bad as talking bawdy.———
———And suppose it is? my father would say.
# The Kobzar of the Ukraine/My Testament

Layout 2
My Testament
WHEN I die, remember, lay me Lowly in the silent tomb, Where the prairie stretches free, Sweet Ukraine, my cherished home.
There, 'mid meadowss' grassy sward, Dnieper's waters pouring May be seen and may be heard, Mighty in their roaring.
When from Ukraine waters bear Rolling to the sea so far Foeman's blood, no longer there Stay I where my ashes are.
Grass and hills I'll leave and fly, Unto throne of God I'll go, There in heaven to pray on high, But, till then, no God I know.
Standing then about my grave, Make ye haste, your fetters tear! Sprinkled with the foeman's blood Then shall rise your freedom fair.
Then shall spring a kinship great, This a family new and free, Sometimes in your glorious state, Gently, kindly, speak of me.
„Мово рідна, слово рідне, Хто вас забуває, Той у грудях не серденько А лиш камінь має...”
Пишіть по наш Ілюстрований Катальоґ.
Ukrainska Knyharnia
Ukrainian Booksellers & Publishers Ltd.
Найстарша і Найбільше Довірена Українська Книгарня в Канаді.
656-660 MAIN STREET WINNIPEG, MAN.
# The Kobzar of the Ukraine/Illustrations

Illustrations
The decorations and illustrations in this book are meant to show something of Ukrainian art.
The artistic instincts of the peasant women find satisfaction largely in the working of embroidery, each district having its own characteristic types of design.
One of Shevchenko's favorite fancies was to compare his versification to the work of the girls and women embroidering their designs on their garments. He frequently speaks of himself as "embroidering verses."
It is a favorite device of Ukrainian book-makers to decorate their pages with miniature landscapes and little figures.
The frontispiece of the present work is a picture of Shevchenko in youth from an original painted by himself. On page 129 we see him as he looked after his return from exile.
# The Kobzar of the Ukraine/Introduction

Layout 2
INTRODUCTION.
Nearly twenty years ago the translator of these poems was sent by the Presbyterian church as a medical missionary to a newly settled district in Manitoba. A very large proportion of the incoming settlers in this district were Ukrainians, indeed it was largely owing to the interest taken in these newcomers that the writer was sent there.
It was Mr. John Bodrug who first introduced him to the study of the poems of Shevchenko and with his help translations of three or four of the poems were made a dozen years ago. Press of other work prevented the following up of this study till last summer when with the help of Mr. Sigmund Bychinsky translations were made of the other poems here given, and considerable time spent in arriving at an understanding of the spirit of the poems and the nature of the situations described. Then the more formidable task was approached of trying to carry over not only the thought but ​something of the style, spirit and music of the original into the English tongue.
The spirit of Shevchenko was too independent to suffer him to he much bound by narrow rules of metre and rhyme. The translator has found the same attitude convenient, for when the versification may be varied as desired it is much easier to preserve the original thoughts intact.
The writer's thanks are due for help and advice to Messrs. Arsenych, Woicenko, Rudachek, Ferley, Sluzar and Stechyshyn and, especially to Mrs. Bychinsky and for help with the manuscript to Miss Sara Livingstone. A. J. H.
# The Kobzar of the Ukraine/On the 11th Psalm

Layout 2
On the Eleventh Psalm
MERCIFUL God, how few Good folk remain on earth. Behold, each one in heart Is setting snares for another. But with fine words, And lips honey-sweet They kiss—and wait To see how soon Their brother to his grave Will find his way.
But Thou who art Lord alone Shuttest up the evil lips, That great-speaking tongue That says:— "No trifling thing are we, How glorious shall we show In intellect and speech. Who is that Lord that will forbid Our thoughts and words?"
Yea, the Lord shall say to Thee "I shall arise, this day On their behalf— People of mine in chains,
The poor and humble ones These will I glorify. Little, dumb and slaves are they, Yet on guard about them Will I set my Word."
Like trampled grass Shall perish your thoughts And words alike.
Like silver, hammered, beaten, Seven times melted o'er the fire, Are thy words, Oh Lord. Scatter these holy words of Thine, O'er all the earth, That Thy children little and poor May believe in miracles on earth.