OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Looney v. District of Columbia/Opinion of the Court

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
United States Supreme Court
113 U.S. 258
Looney v. District of Columbia
The nature and history of the auditor's certificates, and of the so-called sewer certificates, and other securities issued by the District of Columbia, as well as the legislation of congress relating to them, have been fully stated in opinions delivered by the court of claims in other cases, and need not be recapitulated. See Fendall v. District of Columbia, 16 Ct. Cl. 106; Adams v. Same, 17 Ct. Cl. 351; Morgan v. Same, 19 Ct. Cl. 156. It is enough for the purposes of this case to observe that the sewer certificates and other interestbearing securities of the district were negotiable instruments, and that the auditor's certificates were not negotiable, but were merely evidence of the debt of the district to the claimant under its contract with him. If he had kept the auditor's certificates, he could doubtless have recovered against the district the full amount of the debt of which they were the evidence.
But the facts found show that he has so dealt with these certificates as to prevent him from maintaining this suit. The amount of some of the certificates he has been paid by the district in money. Others of the certificates he has sold and assigned for value, and thereby transferred the equitable title in them to the assignee, and authorized him to receive payment of their amount from the district; and the payment of that amount in full by the district to the assignee is a discharge of so much of its debt to the claimant. Cowdrey v. Vandenburgh, 101 U.S. 572; Foss v. Lowell Savings Bank, 111 Mass. 28 . The remaining certificates he has exchanged with the district for an equal amount of its negotiable securities, payable on time, with interest, and he has since sold those securities for their value in the market. The district is liable to the purchaser, either upon those securities themselves, or upon the other bonds since taken by him instead of some of them; and cannot be also held liable to the original creditor for the same amount or any part thereof. Harris v. Johnston, 3 Cranch, 311; Emblin v. Dartnell, 1 Dowl. & L. 591.
The conversation, which is found to have taken place between the treasurer of the district and the claimant before he sold the negotiable securities, has no tendency to prove any authority or any intention of the treasurer to make a new or different contract in behalf of the district.
Judgment affirmed.

## 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
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1652

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XIII. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1652. — February 5, 1876. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXVIII. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | On some Aspects of Science in Relation to Religion, | Church Quarterly Review, | 323 |
| II. | The Curate in Charge. By Mrs. Oliphant. Part IX., | Macmillan's Magazine, | 339 |
| III. | In my Study Chair. Part II., | Blackwood's Magazine, | 349 |
| IV. | Her Dearest Foe. By the author of "The Wooing O't." Part XII., | Temple Bar, | 358 |
| V. | German Home Life. By a Lady. Conclusion, | Fraser's Magazine, | 373 |
| VI. | What is Flavour? | Gardener's Magazine | 384 |
POETRY. :
| Dame Poesy's Ways of Love, | 322 | On the Threshold, | 322 |
| Until Death, | 322 | | |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1652/On the Threshold

* ON THE THRESHOLD.
* Standing on the threshold, with her wakening heart and mind,
* Standing on the threshold, with her childhood left behind;
* The woman softness blending with the look of sweet surprise
* For life and all its marvels that lights the clear blue eyes.
* Standing on the threshold, with light foot and fearless hand,
* As the young knight by his armour in a minster nave might stand;
* The fresh red lip just touching youth's ruddy rapturous wine,
* The eager heart all brave, pure hope, oh happy child of mine!
* I could guard the helpless infant that nestled in my arms;
* I could save the prattler's golden head from petty baby harms;
* I could brighten childhood's gladness, and comfort childhood's tears,
* But I cannot cross the threshold with the step of riper years.
* For hopes, and joys, and maiden dreams are waiting for her there.
* Where girlhood's fancies bud and bloom in April's golden air;
* And passionate love, and passionate grief, and passionate gladness lie
* Among the crimson flowers that spring as youth goes fluttering by.
* Ah! on those rosy pathways is no place for sobered feet.
* My tired eyes have naught of strength such fervid glow to meet;
* My voice is all too sad to sound amid the joyous notes
* Of the music that through charmed air for opening girlhood floats.
* Yet thorns amid the leaves may lurk, and thunder-clouds may lower,
* And death, or change, or falsehood blight the jasmine in thy bower;
* May God avert the woe, my child; but oh! should tempest come.
* Remember, by the threshold waits the patient love of home!
* All The Year Round.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1653

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XIII. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1653. — February 12, 1876. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXVIII. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | Montenegro, | Macmillan's Magazine, | 387 |
| II. | Her Dearest Foe. By the author of "The Wooing O't." Part XIII., | Temple Bar, | 398 |
| III. | A Ramble in Syracuse, | Fortnightly Review, | 414 |
| IV. | The Dilemma. Part XVIII., | Blackwood's Magazine, | 422 |
| V. | Wesleyan Methodism, in Wesley's Lifetime and after. By J. Llewelyn Davies | Contemporary Review, | 429 |
| VI. | The English Jews, | Spectator, | 444 |
| VII. | Conversation with Napoleon at Longwood, | St. James's Magazine, | 447 |
POETRY. :
| Two Songs, | 386 | Hemlocks, | 386 |
| Shepherd's Song, | 386 | | |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 448 |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1652/Dame Poesy's Ways of Love

* DAME POESY'S WAYS OF LOVE:
* BEING AS A PREFACE TO ALL MY VERSE.
* Dame Poesy — there are on whom she showers
* The largess of her love with liberal hand,
* Who in her arrassed presence-chamber stand
* Crowned with her gifts of fadeless song for flowers.
* And there are those again whom she devours
* With fiery blinding kisses — as a brand
* Burning, a cloud love-lurid o'er the lands
* Flashing forth passion fierce as pain.
* But ours,
* Ours is a love, if so perchance it be
* That I have place at all within her heart.
* Other than these, and humbler for my part,
* Who am content when there has fallen on me
* In life's dull champaign, for a little while,
* The flitting April favour of her smile.
* Frank T. Marzials
* Examiner
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1652/Until Death

* UNTIL DEATH.
* Make me no vows of constancy, dear friend.
* To love me, though I die, thy whole life long,
* And love no other till thy days shall end —
* Nay, it were rash and wrong.
* If thou canst love another, be it so;
* I would not reach out of my quiet grave
* To bind thy heart, if it should choose to go —
* Love should not be a slave.
* My placid ghost, I trust, will walk serene
* In clearer light than gilds those earthly morns.
* Above the jealousies and envies keen
* Which sow this life with thorns.
* Thou wouldst not feel my shadowy caress,
* If, after death, my soul should linger here;
* Men's hearts crave tangible, close tenderness,
* Love's presence, warm and near.
* It would not make me sleep more peacefully
* That thou wert wasting all thy life in woe
* For my poor sake; what love thou hast for me,
* Bestow it ere I go!
* Carve not upon a stone when I am dead
* The praises which remorseful mourners give
* To women's graves — a tardy recompense —
* But speak them while I live.
* Heap not the heavy marble on my head
* To shut away the sunshine and the dew;
* Let small blooms grow there, and let grasses wave,
* And raindrops filter through.
* Thou wilt meet many fairer and more gay
* Than I; but trust me, thou canst never find
* One who will love and serve thee night and day
* With a more single mind.
* Forget me when I die! The violets
* Above my rest will blossom just as blue,
* Nor miss my tears; e'en nature's self forgets;
* But while I live, be true!
* Songs of Three Centuries
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1653/Miscellany

​The Warning Symptoms of Sleeplessness — It is of course premature to offer any remarks on the "tragedy at Norwich," but there can be no objection to urging very strenuously upon hospital surgeons and practitioners generally, who are not specially familiar with the symptoms of mind and brain disease, the imperative necessity of treating "sleeplessness" as a warning symptom. A "curious patient," so described because he does not sleep, should be at once placed under proper supervision, for his own sake and the safety of those around him. Inability to sleep, remarks the Lancet, is one of the most significant indications of a condition of nervous irritability or mental excitement which may at any moment assume the form of uncontrollable violence. Delirium tremens, traumatic delirium, and the most dangerous forms of mania are all prone to give this warning token of their presence, and scarcely any other. Without in the least prejudging the case now sub judice, we venture to bespeak the attention of the profession and the public for a matter of daily importance, unfortunately impressed afresh upon the notice of everybody by this terrible lesson in blood.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1653/Shepherd's Song

* SHEPHERD'S SONG
* Follow, follow, little sheep,
* O'er the dreary wold;
* Follow, soon ye all shall sleep,
* Safe from wet and cold.
* Linger not, oh! lagging feet!
* Night will soon be here;
* Weary shepherd fain would greet
* Wife and children dear.
* In his cot the fire burns bright,
* Supper's ready laid;
* Baby waits to say good-night,
* Ere he goes to bed.
* Little ones run in and out,
* Watch beside the gate;
* "What can father be about,
* That he's home so late?"
* Mother makes the ashes blaze,
* Baby smiles to see;
* Tells them how some wanderer strays
* From the flock and me.
* Whilst the children warmly sleep,
* On the dreary wold,
* Father stays till all his sheep
* Are safely in the fold.
* Linger not, oh! lagging feet!
* Darksome night is near;
* Weary shepherd fain would greet
* Wife and children dear.
* M. Betham-Edwards
* Good Words
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1653/Hemlocks

* HEMLOCKS
* I knew a forest tranquil and august
* Down whose green deeps my steps would often stray,
* When leisure met my life as dew meets dust.
* Proud spacious chestnuts verged each winding way,
* And hickories in whose dry boughs winds were shrill,
* And tremulous white-boled birches. Here, one day,
* Strolling beside the scarce-held steed of will,
* I found a beautiful monastic grove
* Of old primeval hemlocks, living still.
* Round it the forest rustled, flashed and throve,
* But here were only silence and much gloom,
* As though some sorcerer in dead days had wove,
* With solemn charms and muttered words of doom,
* A cogent spell that said to time "Depart!"
* And locked it in the oblivion of a tomb.
* Thick was its floor, where scant ferns dared to start,
* With tawny needles, and an old spring lay
* Limpid as crystal in its dusky heart.
* Vaguely enough can language ever say
* What sombre and fantastic dreams, for me,
* Held shadowy revel in my thought that day:
* How stern similitudes would dimly be
* Of painted braves that grouped about their king;
* Or how in crimson firelight I would see
* Some ghostly war-dance, whose weak cries took wing
* Weirdly away beyond the grove's dark brink;
* Or how I seemed to watch by that old spring
* The timid phantom deer steal up to drink!
* Edgar Fawcett
# Literature and Dogma

first published in 1873
* 'La tendance à l'ordre ne peut-elle faire une partie essentielle de nos inclinations, de notre instinct, comme la tendance à la conservation, à la reproduction?'
* Senancour.
* ('May not the tendency to conduct form an essential part of our inclinations, of our instinct, like the tendency to self-preservation, to the reproduction of the species?')
LITERATURE & DOGMA
AN ESSAY TOWARDS
A BETTER APPREHENSION OF THE BIBLE
BY
MATTHEW ARNOLD
FORMERLY PROFESSOR OF POETRY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD AND FELLOW OF ORIEL COLLEGE
POPULAR EDITION
SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE
[All rights reserved]
CONTENTS :
| CHAPTER | | PAGE |
| | introduction | 1 |
| I. | religion given | 8 |
| II. | aberglaube invading | 46 |
| III. | religion new-given | 60 |
| IV. | the proof from prophecy | 80 |
| V. | the proof from miracles | 87 |
| VI. | the new testament record | 111 |
| VII. | the testimony of jesus to himself | 124 |
| VIII. | faith in christ | 141 |
| IX. | aberglaube re-invading | 149 |
| X. | our 'masses' and the bible | 175 |
| XI. | the true greatnss of the old testament | 195 |
| XII. | the true greatness of christianity | 213 |
| | conclusion | 227 |
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
# Lyrics of Life (1909)/Bereft

BEREFT
Death took away from me my heart's desire,— Full suddenly, without a word of warning; Froze with benumbing touch her body's fire, And darkened her young morning.
Death hid her then where she is safe, men say,— Imprisoned in a deep-digged grave and hollow, Where grief and pain may never find a way, Nor any torment follow.
Safe!—and because of fear, they deem 't was best For her, perchance,—this thing which they call dying, But cold she could not be against my breast As there where she is lying!
Sometimes I dream, with sudden, wild delight, That she escapes the cruel bonds that bind her, And fond I seek through all the throbbing night, But never, never find her!
Sometimes—But have the dead then no regrets?— Ah, me! I think, though she hath so bereft me, My loved one cannot be where she forgets How lonely she hath left me!
# Lyrics of Life (1909)/Beside a Pleasant Shore

BESIDE A PLEASANT SHORE
I lay upon my narrow bed, And dreamed life's happy moments o'er; I thought that love my footsteps led Beside a pleasant shore.
Care for a moment loosed its grasp, And breathing deep the fragrant brine,— My hand locked in my lover's clasp,— I felt his pulses throb with mine;
And dear contentment seemed my right,— There roaming from the world apart; I saw his eyes, I felt their light Beam through the shadows, in my heart;
And waves, and trees—all nature—sang A paeon by that pleasant shore. Then I awoke, and with a pang Remembered that we loved no more.
# Lyrics of Life (1909)/Beauty's Path

BEAUTY'S PATH
All ugliness wears on its brow the brand Of Time and Dissolution; from of old, Its doubtful journey through a shifting sand, The life in its ophidian breast is cold. But beauty's path is one forever bright'ning In glory to each far horizon's rim; Warm in the rose and golden in the lightning, Love's altar flame, the upward way to Him,— Beauty, transcending all that bans and bars, Moves as the light moves on, eternal as the stars!
Too well acquaint with passions that benumb, Earth is with them no more in kind accord. 'T is only by ascending one may come Where waits for her the new, the unexplored. She longs—ah, how she longs!—to break asunder Her ancient chains, to lave in morning dew, To stand a little space 'mid realms of wonder, To feel her nearness to the good and true. She longs for beauty—vernal through the years— To touch the dried-up spring and fount of happy tears!
# Lyrics of Life (1909)/Benjamin Franklin

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
"Eripuit coelo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis."
Franklin! our Franklin! America's loved son!— Loved in his day, and now, as few indeed: Franklin! whose mighty genius allies won, To aid her, in great need!
Franklin! with noble charm that fear allays,— Tact, judgment, insight, humor naught could dim!— "Antiquity," said Mirabeau, "would raise Altars to honor him!"
How should one country claim him, or one hour? Bound to no narrow circuit, and no time, He is the World's—part of her lasting dower, One with her hope sublime.
His kindred are the equable and kind Whose constant thought is to uplift and bless; The witty, and the wise, the large of mind, Who ignorance redress:
His kindred are the bold who, undismayed, Believe that good is ever within reach,— ​All who move onward—howsoe'er delayed— Who learn, that they may teach:
Who overcoming pain and weariness, In life's long battle bear a noble part; All who, like him,—greatest of gifts!—possess The genius of the heart!
How should we praise whose deeds belittle praise, Whose monument perpetual is our land Saved by his wisdom, in disastrous days, From tyranny's strong hand?—
How praise whose Titan-thought, beyond Earth's ken Aspiring, tamed the lightnings in revolt, Subduing to the will of mortal men The awful thunderbolt?
Our debt looms larger than our love can pay: We know not with what homage him to grace Whose name outlasts the monument's decay,— A glory to our race!
With tireless hope, he seems to move before Beck'ning to all that helpful is and free: A lover of mankind, inheritor Of Immortality!

## Notes

"Eripuit coelo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis": A line in Latin that Marquis Turgot wrote under a portrait of Franklin. An English translation by James Elphinston (pre-1817):
He snatcht the bolt from Heaven's avenging hand, Disarm'd and drove the tyrant from the land.
# Lyrics of Life (1909)/Before the Dawn

BEFORE THE DAWN
I looked on beauteous forms, as I lay dreaming, But on no form as beautiful as thine, Who here, amid the moonbeams white and holy, Standest in silence by this bed of mine.
I looked on faces fair, as I lay sleeping, But on no face that seemed so nobly sweet As that which in the pallid light above me My wondering, half-awakened sense doth greet.
Who and what art thou? Have I kept thee waiting? My sleep was as a river deep and calm; Bring'st thou perchance some word of import for me? Hast thou for broken hearts, like mine, some balm?
Who and what art thou? In my tranquil vision I gazed through rifted clouds on azure skies,— I seemed to gaze beyond them,—but naught moved me Like the deep pity in thy brooding eyes.
Why art thou here to-night? I have been lonely— Have waited, prayed, for such an one as thou, ​To still with presence kind my pulse's throbbing, To lay a cooling touch upon my brow.
Tell me thy name! Then, pain and fear forgotten, I straightway will arise and follow thee,
Who, as I think, art hither come to guide me To larger hope and opportunity.
Tell me thy name! I long, I need, to hear it! Thy name!—I may not plead, for failing breath,— With look compassionate, the august stranger Made answer very softly: "I am Death."
# Lyrics of Life (1909)/Beyond

BEYOND
Had we the present—only that, no more! Were the past, hidden by Oblivion's door, Impenetrable to our backward gaze,— Its lessons lost, its joyful, tearful days! Were there no vision of untrodden ways, No distant fields of morn,—no blooms unfound,— No skyey hopes to beckon from the ground,— No loves whose waiting welcome ne'er betrays!
Were there no promise of returning spring When autumn preens a migratory wing, And on earth's hearth the fire is burning low!— Were there no future with romance aglow, When the chilled blood within the vein moves slow, No dream of a fair dawning, in the night,— No fond expectancy,—no pledge of light Fairer than cloud-veiled days of winter know! ·········· To-morrow!—mystic word of the Ideal! What were all else, wert thou not there to heal The deepest hurt that e'er the present gave? Friend! Ever wise consoler! We are brave Because of thee! Trusting thy might to save. We journey onward toward an unknown land, And close, and closer still, we clasp thy hand,— Nor will be parted from thee at the grave.
# Lyrics of Life (1909)/Amor Creator

AMOR CREATOR
Love is enough: were all we fondly cherish To pass as visions melt at dawn of day, Were bud and blossom, fruit and leaf, to perish, Love could rebuild them in his perfect way; For he who makes the tides to ebb and flow, Each secret of creation well doth know.
His warmth illumes the glow-worm's fickle spark, And beams in Aldebaran's steadfast fire: With him there is no winter and no dark; The font, the burning font, of pure desire, All forms of beauty unto him belong,— The rose, the avalanche, the wild bird's song.
On Latmos' height pale Dian dreams about him, His voice low echoes in the ocean shell, The bee could fill no honey-cup without him, The violet no fragrant secret tell: Remote yet near, changeful yet still the same, Love is creation's breath and vital flame!
# Lyrics of Life (1909)/An American at Lincoln

AN AMERICAN AT LINCOLN
The vast cathedral-crown of the high hill, The long, low-vaulted nave, the transepts where The light is glory shed through windows rare In rainbow tintings: glory deep and still, Gift of a past forever present there!
Beyond the lantern, the carved Gothic Choir, And, as interpreting the hallowed place Athrob with harmonies, a boyish face— English, yet with the look of awed desire Which speaks America,—the younger race.
In the half parted lips without a smile, In the whole rapt, impassioned gaze, I read the travail of the distant days, The wistful hunger of the Long Exile— The yearning that survives through all delays:
I read thy soul, my Country! thou dear Land Across the deep and all-dividing sea! I read thy soul and theirs who founded thee With sacrifices few could understand— Renouncing and enduring silently.
​And I perceived that thou hast still retained Their strength to toil, their courage to resist: That seeking ardently whate'er they missed, Thou hast remained—in spite of all, remained— That which they made thee—an idealist!
And once again I felt how blest it is To hunger and to thirst: anew I saw That by eternal high-appointed law, Sublimity and beauty most are his
# Lyrics of Life (1909)/April

APRIL
Swelling bud and fond suggestion, Wafting of perfume, Tearful rapture, thrilling question Of restraint or bloom, Life all dreamlessly asleeping, As in death, but now, Upward to the sunshine creeping,— April, that is thou!
Mystery's authentic dwelling, Faith's expanding wing, Maiden loveliness foretelling Fuller blossoming, Prophet of the new creation, Priestess of the bough, Month of the imagination,— April, that is thou!
# Lyrics of Life (1909)/Child-Fancies

This poem was not included in Mrs. Coates' collected Poems (1916, in 2 vols.).
CHILD-FANCIES
ASPHODEL
The children played at naming, every one Her favorite blossom, in the mild June even; When, at the last, the others having done, A little maid—her years but numbered seven—
Stood shyly forth and answered in her turn: "Pale violets I love,—and love full well Red poppies, which the elves for torches burn,— But for my own I choose—the asphodel."
Indignant stared the children; then they cried— Amid their pastime ready still for strife— "The asphodel! You only choose through pride A flower you never saw in all your life!"
Abashed, the culprit hung her pretty head, As she accusèd of a crime had been; Then, bravely, with conviction sweet she said:— "But I love best the flower I have not seen!"
Ah, wistful child! Such lonely dreams as thine Others have cherished in their hearts, I ween,— ​And, grateful for all good, with thee incline To love the best the flower they have not seen!
II
GATHERED WILD-FLOWERS
I've brought you some flowers, mother! Please look at them, mother, look! See this one!—and here's another I found beside the brook!
They're very warm, for I held them tight; You'll want them, I know, to keep, When they wake again and you see them right,— But now they're all asleep.