OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin/Section Twenty One
## Section Twenty One

Ralph and I were inseparable Companions. We took Lodgings together in Little Britain at 3/6 per Week, as much as we could then afford. He found some Relations, but they were poor & unable to assist him. He now let me know his Intentions of remaining in London, and that he never meant to return to Philadelphia. He had brought no Money with him, the whole he could muster having been expended in paying his Passage. I had 15 Pistoles: So he borrowed occasionally of me, to subsist while he was looking out for Business. He first endeavored to get into the Playhouse, believing himself qualify’d for an Actor; but Wilkes, to whom he apply’d, advis’d him candidly not to think of that Employment, as it was impossible he should succeed in it. Then he propos’d to Roberts, a Publisher in Paternoster Row, to write for him a Weekly Paper like the Spectator, on certain Conditions, which Roberts did not approve. Then he endeavor’d to get Employment as a Hackney Writer to copy for the Stationers & Lawyers about the Temple: but could find no Vacancy.
I immediately got into Work at Palmer’s, then a famous Printinghouse in Bartholomew Close; and here I continu’d near a Year. I was pretty diligent; but spent with Ralph a good deal of my Earnings in going to Plays & other Places of Amusement. We had together consum’d all my Pistoles, and now just rubb’d on from hand to mouth. He seem’d quite to forget his Wife & Child, and I by degrees my Engagements with Miss Read, to whom I never wrote more than one Letter, & that was to let her know I was not likely soon to return. This was another of the great Errata of my Life, which I should wish to correct if I were to live it over again. In fact, by our Expenses, I was constantly kept unable to pay my Passage.
At Palmer’s I was employ’d in composing for the second Edition of Woollaston’s Religion of Nature. Some of his Reasonings not appearing to me well-founded, I wrote a little metaphysical Piece, in which I made Remarks on them. It was entitled, A Dissertation on Liberty & Necessity, Pleasure and pain. I inscrib’d it to my Friend Ralph. I printed a small Number. It occasion’d my being more consider’d by Mr Palmer, as a young Man of some Ingenuity, tho’ he seriously expostulated with me upon the Principles of my Pamphlet which to him appear’d abominable. My printing this Pamphlet was another Erratum.
# The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin/Section Two
## Section Two

And now I speak of thanking God, I desire with all Humility to acknowledge, that I owe the mention’d Happiness of my past Life to his kind Providence, which led me to the Means I us’d & gave them Success. My Belief of this, induces me to hope, tho’ I must not presume, that the same Goodness will still be exercis’d towards me in continuing that Happiness, or in enabling me to bear a fatal Reverse, which I may experience as others have done, the Complexion of my future Fortune being known to him only: and in whose Power it is to bless to us even our Afflictions.
The Notes one of my Uncles (who had the same kind of Curiosity in collecting Family Anecdotes) once put into my Hands, furnish’d me with several Particulars relating to our Ancestors. From these Notes I learned that the Family had liv’d in the same Village, Ecton in Northamptonshire, for 300 Years, & how much longer he knew not (perhaps from the Time when the Name Franklin that before was the Name of an Order of People, was assum’d by them for a Surname, when others took Surnames all over the Kingdom.—(Here a Note) on a Freehold of about 30 Acres, aided by the Smith’s Business which had continued in the Family till his Time, the eldest Son being always bred to that Business. A Custom which he & my Father both followed as to their eldest Sons. When I search’d the Register at Ecton, I found an Account of their Births, Marriages and Burials, from the Year 1555 only, there being no Register kept in that Parish at any time preceding. By that Register I perceiv’d that I was the youngest Son of the youngest Son for 5 Generations back. My Grandfather Thomas, who was born in 1658, lived at Ecton till he grew too old to follow Business longer, when he went to live with his Son John, a Dyer at Banbury in Oxfordshire, with whom my Father serv’d an Apprenticeship. There my Grandfather died and lies buried. We saw his Gravestone in 1758. His eldest Son Thomas liv’d in the House at Ecton, and left it with the Land to his only Child, a Daughter, who with her Husband, one Fisher of Wellingborough, sold it to Mr Isted, now Lord of the Manor there. My Grandfather had 4 Sons that grew up, viz. Thomas, John, Benjamin and Josiah.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Gude Farmer

The Gude Farmer.
[Written by A. Scott, to the tune of "The Rock and the Wee Pickle Tow."]
I'm now a gude farmer, I've acres o' land, An' my heart aye loups light when I'm vievrin' o't, An' I ha'e servants at my command, An' twa dainty cowts for the plowin' o't. My farm is a snug ane, lies high on a muir, The muir-cocks an' plivers aft skirl at my door, An' whan the sky lowrs I'm aye sure o' a show'r, To moisten my land for the plowin' o't.
Leeze me on the mailin that's fa'n to my share, It taks sax muckle bowes for the sawin' o't; I've sax braid acres for pasture, an' mair, And a dainty bit bog for the ma win' o't. A spence an' a kitchen my mansion-house gi'es, I've a cantie wee wifie to daut whan I please, Twa bairnies, twa callans, that skelp ower the leas, An' they'll soon can assist at the plowin' o't.
My biggan stands sweet on this south slopin' hill, An' the sun shines sae bonnily beamin' on't, An' past my door trots a clear prattlin' rill, Frae the loch, whare the wild ducks are swimmin' on't'; An' on its green banks, on the gay summer days, My wifie trips barefoot, a-bleaching her claes, An' on the dear creature wi' rapture I gaze, While I whistle and sing at the plowin' o't.
To rank amang farmers I ha'e muckle pride, But I mauna speak high whan I'm tellin' o't, How brawlie I strut on my sheltie to ride, Wi' a sample to show for the sellin' o't. In blue worset boots that my auld mither span, I've aft been fu' vauty sin' I was a man, But now they're flung by, an' I've bought cordivan, And my wifie ne'er grudg'd me a shillin o't.
Sae now, whan tae kirk or tae market I gae, My weelfare, what need I be hidin' o't? In braw leather boots, shining black as the slae, I dink me to try the ridin' o't. Last towmond I sell'd off four bowes o' gude bear, An' thankfu' I was, for the victual was dear, An' I came hame wi' spurs on my heels shinin' clear, I had sic good luck at the sellin' o't.
Now hairst time is owre, an' a fig for the laird, My rent's now secure for the toilin' o't; My fields are a' bare, and my crap's in the yard, An' I'm nae mair in doubts o' the spoilin' o't. Now welcome gude weather, or wind, or come weet, Or bauld ragin' winter, wi' hail, snaw, or sleet, Nae mair can he draugle my crap 'mang his feet, Nor wraik his mischief, an' be spoilin' o't.
An' on the dowf days, whan loud hurricanes blaw, Fu' snug i' the spence I'll be viewin' o't, An' jink the rude blast in my rush-theekit ha', Whan fields are seal'd up frae the plowin' o't. My bonnie wee wifie, the bairnies, an' me, The peat-stack, and turf-stack, our Phœbus shall be, Till day close the scoul o' its angry e'e, An' we'll rest in gude hopes o' the plowin' o't.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Happy Clown

The Happy Clown.
[The tune called "The Happy Clown" is old. Gay adopts it for one of his songs in the "Beggar's Opera," beginning,
"I'm like a skiff in the ocean toss'd."
The following fine verses appear in the second volume of the Tea-Table Miscellany. Ramsay, in his "Gentle Shepherd" puts a few verses into the mouth of Sir William Worthy, to the tune of "The Happy Clown."]
How happy is the rural clown, Who, far remov'd from noise of town, Contemns the glory of a crown, And, in his safe retreat, Is pleased with his low degree, Is rich in decent poverty, From strife, from care, and business free, At once both good and great!
No drums disturb his morning sleep, He fears no danger of the deep, Nor noisy law, nor courts e'er heap Vexation on his mind; No trumpets rouse him to the war, No hopes can bribe, nor threats can dare; From state intrigues he holds afar, And liveth unconfin'd.
Like those in golden ages born, He labours gently to adorn His small paternal fields of corn, And on their product feeds; Each season of the wheeling year, Industrious he improves with care, And still some ripen'd fruits appear, So well his toil succeeds.
Now by a silver stream he lies, And angles with his baits and flies, And next the sylvan scene he tries, His spirits to regale; Now from the rock or height he views His fleecy flock, or teeming cows; Then tunes his reed, or tries his muse, That waits his honest call.
Amidst his harmless easy joys, No care his peace of mind destroys, Nor does he pass his time in toys Beneath his just regard: He's fond to feel the zephyrs breeze, To plant and sned his tender trees; And for attending well his bees, Enjoys their sweet reward.
The flow'ry meads and silent coves, The scenes of faithful rural loves, And warbling birds on blooming groves, Afford a wish'd delight; But O, how pleasant is his life! Blest with a chaste and virtuous wife, And children prattling, void of strife, Around his fire at night!
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Happy Mother

The Happy Mother.
[Alex. Laing of Brechin.]
An' O, may I never live single again— I wish I may never live single again; I ha'e a gudeman, an' a hame o' my ain, An' O, may I never live single again. I've twa bonnie bairns the fairest of a', They cheer up my heart when their daaddie's awa'; I've ane at my foot, and I've ane on my knee; An' fondly they look, an' say "Mammie" to me.
At gloamin' their daddie comes in frae the plough, The blink in his e'e, an' the smile on his brow, Says, "how are ye, lassie, O, how are ye a', An' how's the wee bodies sin' I gade awa'?" He sings i' the e'enin' fu' cheery an' gay— He tells o' the toil an' the news o' the day: The twa bonnie lammies he tak's on his knee, An' blinks o'er the ingle fu' couthie to me.
O happy's the father that's happy at hame— An' blythe is the mither that's blythe o' the name; The cares o' the warld they fear na to dree— The warld is naethirg to Johnny an' me. Though crosses will mingle wi' mitherly cares, Awa' bonnie lassies—awa' wi' your fears; Gin ye get a laddie that's loving an' fain, Ye'll wish ye may never live single again.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Heather Bell

The Heather Bell.
[Poetry and Air by Dr. R. Spittal.]
Oh! deck thy hair wi' the heather bell, The heather bell alone; Leave roses to the Lowland maid, The Lowland maid alone. I've seen thee wi' the gay, gay rose, And wi' the heather bell,— I love you much with both, fair maid; But wear the heather bell. For the heather bell, the heather bell, Which breathes the mountain air, Is far more fit than roses gay To deck thy flowing hair. ​Away, away, ye roses gay! The heather bell for me; Fair maiden, let me hear thee say, The heather bell for me. Then twine a wreath o' the heather bell, The heather bell alone; Nor rose, nor lily, twine ye there, The heather bell alone; For the heather bell, the heather bell, Which breathes the mountain air, Is tar more fit than roses gay To deck thy flowing hair.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Hazlewood Witch

The Hazlewood Witch.
[Richard Gall.]
For mony lang year I ha'e heard frae my grannie, Of brownies an' bogles by yon castle wa', Of auld wither'd hags, that were never thought cannie. An' fairies that danced till they heard the cock craw. I leugh at her tales; an' last owk, i' the gloamin', I dander'd, alane, down the Hazlewood green: Alas! I was reckless, an' rue sair my roaming, For I met a young witch wi' twa bonnie black een.
I thought o' the starns in a frosty night glancing, Whan a' the lift round them is cloudless and blue; I look'd again, an' my heart fell a dancing, Whan I wad ha'e spoken, she glamour'd my mou'. O wae to her cantraips! for dumpish'd I wander; At kirk or at market there's nought to be seen; For she dances afore me wherever I dander, The Hazlewood Witch wi' the bonnie black een.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Heathy Hills

The Heathy Hills.
[Mitchell.—Air, "Thou bonnie wood of Craigie lea."]
O! were I on the heathy hills, That rise aboon the Stanley lea; And wand’ring by the crystal rills, Where, Mary, first I courted thee: There mem'ry would recal the hours, I aft would spend at e'ening's fa', To twine for thee a wreath o' flowers, The flowers o' Caledonia.
Here golden groves in every vale, Attract the stranger's wondering eye, And gorgeous flowers perfume the gale, Which wantons through a cloudless sky. But what's to me the richest flowers, That ever graced an Indian isle, If discontent pervade its bowers, And blight youth's unsuspicious smile?
Will golden groves or glowing skies, The heart's affections e'er enshrine, If gentle love the charm denies, Which beams in my love's face divine? Then, Scotland, though thy heathy hills, Aft lie beneath a sheet o' snaw; In fancy I still seek the rills, That glide near Stanley's castle wa'.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Highland Baloc

The Highland Baloc.
[This is said to be a translation by Burns of a Gaelic nursery song which a Highland lady sung and interpreted to him. It appears to belong to the period when boldness and dexterity in cattle-lifting were accounted virtues.]
Hee, baloo, my sweet wee Donald, Picture o' the great Clanronald; Thou'lt be a chief o' a' thy clan, If thou art spared to be a man.
Leeze me on thy bonnie craigie An' thou live thou'lt lift a naigie, Travel the country through and through, And bring hame a Carlisle cow.
Through the Lawlands, near the Border, Weel, my babie, may thou furder; Herry the loons o' the laigh countrie, Syne to the Highlands hame to me.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Hameward Song

The Hameward Song.
[Hugh Ainslie.]
Each whirl of the wheel, Each step brings me nearer The hame of my youth— Every object grows dearer. Thae hills and thae huts, And thae trees on that green, Losh! they glower in my face Like some kindly auld frien'.
E'en the brutes they look social As gif they would crack, And the sang of the bird Seems to welcome me back. O, dear to our hearts Is the hand that first fed us, And dear is the land And the cottage that bred us.
And dear are the comrades With whom we once sported, And dearer the maiden Whose love we first courted. Joy's image may perish, E'en grief die away, But the scenes of our youth Are recorded for aye.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Hawthorn Tree

The Hawthorn Tree.
[Written by the Rev. W. Hetherington, A. M., of Torphichen.—Tune, "There grows a bonnie Brier Bush."]
O sweet are the blossoms o' the hawthorn tree, The bonnie milky blossoms o' the hawthorn tree. When the saft wastlin' wind, as it wanders ower the lea, Comes laden wi' the breath o' the hawthorn tree.
Lovely is the rose in the dewy month o' June, And the lily gently bending beneath the sunny noon; But the dewy rose, nor lily fair, is half sae sweet to me, As the bonnie milky blossoms o' the hawthorn tree.
O, blythe at fair and market fu' aften ha'e I been, And wi' a crony frank and leal some happy hours I've seen; But the blythest hours I e'er enjoy'd were shar'd, my love, wi' thee, In the gloamin', 'neath the bonnie bonnie hawthorn tree.
Sweetly sang the blackbird, low in the woody glen, And fragrance sweet spread on the gale, licht ower the dewy plain; But thy saft voice and sighing breath were sweeter far to me, While whispering o' love beneath the hawthorn tree. ​Auld time may wave his dusky wing, and chance may cast his die, And the rainbow-hues o' flattering hope may darken in the sky, Gay summer pass, and winter stalk stern ower the frozen lea, Nor leaf nor milky blossom deck the hawthorn tree;
But still maun be the pulse that wakes this glowing heart of mine, For me nae mair the spring maun bud, nor summer blossoms shine, And low maun be my hame, sweet maid, ere I be false to thee, Or forget the vows I breathed beneath the hawthorn tree.
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/'Weh Down Souf

Daniel Webster Davis
'WEH DOWN SOUF
O, de birds ar' sweetly singin',
'Weh down Souf,
An' de banjer is a-ringin',
'Weh down Souf;
An' my heart it is a-sighin',
Whil' de moments am a-flyin',
Fur my hom' I am a-cryin',
'Weh down Souf.
Dar de pickaninnies 's playin',
'Weh down Souf,
An' fur dem I am a-prayin',
'Weh down Souf;
An' when I gits sum munny,
Yo' kin bet I'm goin', my hunny,
Fur de lan' dat am so sunny,
'Weh down Souf.
Whil' de win' up here's a-blowin
'Weh down Souf
De corn is sweetly growin',
'Weh down Souf.
Dey tells me here ub freedum,
But I ain't a-gwine to heed um.
But I'se gwine fur to lebe um,
Fur 'weh down Souf.
I bin up here a-wuckin',
From 'weh down Souf,
An' I ain't a bin a-shurkin'—
I'm frum 'weh down Souf;
But I'm gittin' mighty werry,
An' de days a-gittin' drerry,
An' I'm hongry, O, so berry,
Fur my hom' down Souf.
O, de moon dar shines de brighter,
'Weh down Souf,
An' I know my heart is lighter,
'Weh down Souf;
An' de berry thought brings pledjur,
I'll be happy dar 'dout medjur,
Fur dar I hab my tredjur,
'Weh down Souf.
Layout 2
# The Book of American Negro Poetry

The Book of American Negro Poetry
CHOSEN AND EDITED WITH AN ESSAY ON THE
NEGRO'S CREATIVE GENIUS
BY
JAMES WELDON JOHNSON
Author of "Fifty Years and Other Poems"
NEW YORK HARCOURT. BRACE AND COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A. BY QUINN AND BODEN COMPANY, INC. RAHWAY, N.J.
CONTENTS.
Layout 2
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
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 Book of American Negro Poetry/A Butterfly in Church

A BUTTERFLY IN CHURCH
What dost thou here, thou shining, sinless thing.
With many colored hues and shapely wing?
Why quit the open field and summer air
To flutter here? Thou hast no need of prayer.
'Tis meet that we, who this great structure built,
Should come to be redeemed and washed from guilt,
For we this gilded edifice within
Are come, with erring hearts and stains of sin.
But thou art free from guilt as God on high;
Go, seek the blooming waste and open sky,
And leave us here our secret woes to bear,
Confessionals and agonies of prayer.
Layout 2
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/A Negro Love Song

The Book of American Negro Poetry
Paul Laurence Dunbar
A NEGRO LOVE SONG
Seen my lady home las' night,
Jump back, honey, jump back. Hel' huh han' an' sque'z it tight, Jump back, honey, jump back. Hyeahd huh sigh a little sigh. Seen a light gleam f'om huh eye,
An' a smile go flittin' by—
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Hyeahd de win' blow thoo de pine. Jump back, honey, jump back. Mockin'-bird was singin' fine,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
An' my hea't was beatin' so. When I reached my lady's do',
Dat I could n't ba' to go—
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Put my ahm aroun' huh wais',
Jump back, honey, jump back. Raised huh lips an' took a tase, Jump back, honey, jump back.
Love me, honey, love me true?
Love me well ez I love you?
An' she answe'd, "Cose I do"—
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Layout 2
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/'Ittle Touzle Head

'ITTLE TOUZLE HEAD
(To R. V. P.)
Layout 2
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/A Little Cabin

Charles Bertram Johnson
A LITTLE CABIN
Des a little cabin
Big ernuff fur two.
Des awaitin', honey,
Cozy fixt fur you;
Down dah by de road,
Not ve'y far from town,
Waitin' fur de missis,
When she's ready to come down.
Des a little cabin,
An' er acre o' groun',
Vines agrowin' on it, Fruit trees all aroun',
Hollyhawks a-bloomin'
In de gyahden plot—
Honey, would you like to
Own dat little spot?
Make dat little cabin
Cheery, clean an' bright, With an' angel in it
Like a ray of light?
Make dat little palace
Somethin' fine an' gran',
Make it like an Eden,
Fur a lonely man?
Des you listen, Honey,
While I 'splain it all,
How some lady's go'nter
Boss dat little hall;
Des you take my han'
Dat's de way it's writ,
Des you take my heart,
Dat's de deed to it.
# Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Volume 1

Note: This volume is cited as S.C. 1867 or Statutes 31 Victoria.
    Imperial Acts
    Statutes
    Table of Contents
    Index
/Imperial Acts /Imperial Acts/British North America Act, 1867 /Imperial Acts/Canadian Railway Loan Act, 1867 /Imperial Acts/Merchant Shipping Act, 1867 /Statutes Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 1 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 2 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 3 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 4 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 5 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 6 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 7 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 8 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 9 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 10 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 11 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 12 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 13 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 14 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 15 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 16 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 17 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 18 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 19 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 20 Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Chapter 21 /Table of Contents
# Statutes of Canada/1867-68/Volume 1/Imperial Acts

At a Parliament begun and holden, at Westminster, the first day of February, An​no Domini, 1866, in the twenty-ninth year of the Reign of Our Sovereign Lady Victoria, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Queen, Defender of the Faith, and from thence continued by several Prorogations to the Fifth day of February, 1867.
| | Chapter | Title | Assented to |
| 1 | Chapter 3. | An Act for the Union of Canada, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick, and the Government thereof; and for Purposes connected therewith. (British North America Act, 1867) | 29 Mar 1867 |
| 2 | Chapter 16. | An Act for authorizing a Guarantee of Interest on a Loan to be raised by Canada towards the Construction of a Railway connecting Quebec and Halifax. (The Canada Railway Loan Act, 1867) | 12 Apr 1867 |
| 3 | Chapter 124. | An Act to amend the Merchant Shipping Act, 1854. (Merchant Shipping Act, 1867) | 20 Aug 1867 |
# The Battle of Dorking

* The Battle of Dorking (1871), G. P. Putnam & Sons
* The Battle of Dorking (1914), with Preface by G. H. Powell, Grant Richards Ltd.
# The Book of the Duke of True Lovers

THE NEW MEDIEVAL LIBRARY
* UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
* THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI. Translated from the Old French by Alice Kemp-Welch, with an Introduction by Professor L. M. Brandin. [A new and revised edition.
* OF tHE TUMBLER OF OUR LADY. Now first translated, with Introduction and Notes, from the Middle-French by Alice Kemp-Welch. With Title-page engraved on Wood by Miss B. C. Hunter.
* IN PREPARATION
* THE BOOK OF THE DIVINE CONSOLATION OF SAINT ANGELA DA FOLIGNO. Now translated from the Italian by Mary G. Steegmann. With an Introduction.
The title on the reverse of this page, engraved upon the wood, was designed by Miss Blanche C. Hunter, and embodies the only authentic portrait of Christine De Pisan, engaged in writing, from the MS. now in the Bibliothèque Royale, Brussels.
THE BOOK OF THE DUKE OF TRUE LOVERS: NOW FIRST TRANSLATED FROM THE MIDDLE FRENCH OF CHRISTINE DE PISAN: WITH AN INTRODUCTION: BY ALICE KEMP-WELCH. THE BALLADS RENDERED INTO THE ORIGINAL METRES BY LAURENCE BINYON & ERIC R. D. MACLAGAN
CHATTO AND WINDUS : PUBLISHERS LONDON 1908
All Rights reserved
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Book of the Homeless/1915

1915
Though desolation stain their foiled advance, In ashen ruins hearth-stones linger whole: Do what they may, they cannot master France; Do what they can, they cannot quell the soul. Barrett Wendell
# The Book of the Homeless/"The Girl he left behind Him"

CHARLES DANA GIBSON
"THE GIRL HE LEFT BEHIND HIM"
FROM A PEN-AND-INK SKETCH