OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Potts v. Chumasero/Opinion of the Court

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
United States Supreme Court
92 U.S. 358
Potts v. Chumasero
We have no jurisdiction in this case. Writs of error and appeals lie to this court from the Supreme Court of the Territory of Montana only in cases where the value of the property or the amount in controversy exceeds the sum of $1,000, and from decision upon writs of habeas corpus involving the question of personal freedom. Rev. Stat., sect. 1909.
In Barry v. Mercien, 5 How. 120, it was held, Chief Justice Taney speaking for the court, that, in order to give us jurisdiction in a case dependent upon the amount in controversy, 'the matter in dispute must be money, or some right, the value of which in money can be calculated and ascertained.' This rule has been followed in many cases. Pratt v. Fitzhugh, 1 Black, 273; De Krafft v. Barry, 2 id. 714.
In the present case, the contest is not for money, or any right the value of which can be measured by money. The petitioners, to show that they have such a special interest in the question presented for adjudication as entitles them to commence and maintain the action, allege that they are attorneys and counsellors-at-law, and that, by the removal of the seat of government from Helena to Virginia City, their expenses will be increased while in attendance upon the courts pursuant to their professional engagements. But this is not the matter in controversy. The contest is as to the validity of certain proceedings for the removal of the seat of government for the Territory. The interest which the petitioners have in that contest is not in any sense property. Besides, they do not complain.
The defendants, who are the plaintiffs in the error here, do not claim to be personally interested pecuniarily in the litigation. They only state in their answer, that, if a removal is had, the United States will be put to an expense of $3,000. But in this proceeding they do not represent the United States. They are government officials; but they do not appear here in their official capacity. By a law of the Territory, it has been made their duty to canvass the votes cast at a Territorial election. In this they act for the people of the Territory, and not for the United States. They derive all their authority for this purpose from a law of the Territory, and not from a law of Congress. If a judgment is given against them, they will not lose any money; neither will the petitioners gain any from them.
Writ dismissed for want of jurisdiction.

## 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).
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# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Keepsake, 1829/Verses

* GEORGIANA
* DUCHESS OF BEDFORD
* Artist: Edwin Landseer A. R. A. - Engraved by: Chas. Heath
Lady, thy face is very beautiful, A calm and stately beauty: thy dark hair Hangs as the passing winds paid homage there; And gems, such gems as only princes cull From earth's rich veins, are round thy neck and arm; Ivory, with just one touch of colour warm; And thy white robe floats queen-like, suiting well A shape such as in ancient pictures dwell!  If thou hadst lived in that old haunted time, When sovereign Beauty was a thing sublime, For which knights went to battle, and her glove Had even more of glory than of love;— Hadst thou lived in those days, how chivalrie, With brand and banner, would have honour'd thee! Then had this picture been a chronicle, Of whose contents might only poets tell What king had worn thy chains, what heroes sigh'd, What thousands nameless, hopeless, for thee died. But thou art of the Present—there is nought About thee for the dreaming minstrel's thought, Save vague imagination, which still lives Upon the charmed light all beauty gives. What hath romancing lute, or fancied line, Or colour'd words to do with thee or thine? No, the chords sleep in silence at thy feet, They have no measures for thy music meet; The poet hath no part in it, his dream Would too much idleness of flattery seem; And to that lovely picture only pays The wordless homage of a lingering gaze. L. E. L.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Keepsake, 1831

This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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The person who associated a work with this deed has dedicated the work to the public domain by waiving all of their rights to the work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law. You can copy, modify, distribute and perform the work, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
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Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Keepsake, 1831
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
Contents
* The Death Song
* Legendary Fragments
* The Forgotten One
* The Return
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Keepsake, 1831/Death Song

THE DEATH SONG.
BY MISS L. E. LANDON.
Are the roses all faded, that thus you should wear A wreath from the dark cypress tree in your hair? Are the violets wither'd, that funeral green Should thus mid your long golden tresses be seen?
Come, maiden, the evening's last crimson has dyed With the hue of its blushes the pearls at your side; And wreath'd flowers like summer's are bright in each fold Of the white robe whose border is heavy with gold.
Oh father, my father, now urge me no more; No footstep of mine will be light on the floor; The shroud cold and white is the robe I shall wear: Now look on my face, is not death written there?
It came on the night wind, it came in the hour, When the planet shines forth and the spirit has power: I heard the sad music that wailing past by, It call'd me, my father, it call'd me to die.
I heard that wild singing the night that she died, My own gentle sister, her last sigh replied: Again I have listen'd that funeral tone; I knew 't was the death song, I knew 't was my own.
I am weeping, but not for this summons, my tears They fall for your lonely, your desolate years: I see the old hearth, but its gladness is gone; I see the green forest, you walk there alone.
By the side of my sister's they'll hang up my lute, But, unless the wind wake them, henceforth to be mute. Our vault will be open'd with torch-light and song; We must part there, my father, we part not for long.
They say to the words of the dying are given A spirit that is not of earth, but of heaven. Be strong in thy sorrow, and meek in thy pain: My father, we meet, and for ever, again.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Keepsake, 1831/Forgotten One

THE FORGOTTEN ONE.
BY MISS L. E. LANDON.
I have no early flowers to ﬂing O'er thy yet earlier grave; O'er it the morning lark may sing, By it the bright rose wave; The very night dew disappears Too soon, as if it spared its tears.
Thou art forgotten!—thou, whose feet Were listen'd for like song! They used to call thy voice so sweet;— It did not haunt them long. Thou, with thy fond and fairy mirth— How could they bear their lonely hearth!
There is no picture to recall Thy glad and open brow; No proﬁled outline on the wall Seems like thy shadow now; They have not even kept to wear One ringlet of thy golden hair.
When here we shelter'd last appears But just like yesterday; It startles me to think that years Since then are past away. The old oak tree that was our tent, No leaf seems changed, no bough seems rent.
A shower in June—a summer shower, Drove us beneath the shade; A beautiful and greenwood bower— The spreading branches made. The raindrops shine upon the bough, The passing rain—but where art thou?
But I forget how many showers Have wash'd this old oak tree, The winter and the summer hours, Since I stood here with thee. And I forget how chance a thought Thy memory to my heart has brought.
I talk of friends who once have wept, As if they still should weep; I speak of grief that long has slept, As if it could not sleep; I mourn o'er cold forgetfulness, Have I, myself, forgotten less?
I've mingled with the young and fair, Nor thought how there was laid One fair and young as any there, In silence and in shade.
How could I see a sweet mouth shine With smiles, and not remember thine?
Ah! it is well we can forget, Or who could linger on Beneath a sky whose stars are set, On earth whose flowers are gone? For who could welcome loved ones near, Thinking of those once far more dear,
Our early friends, those of our youth? We cannot feel again The earnest love, the simple truth, Which made us such friends then.
We grow suspicious, careless, cold; We love not as we loved of old.
No more a sweet necessity, Love must and will expand, Loved and beloving we must be, With open heart and hand, Which only ask to trust and share The deep affections which they bear.
Our love was of that early time; And now that it is past It breathes as of a purer clime Than where my lot is cast. My eyes fill with their sweetest tears In thinking of those early years.
It shock'd me first to see the sun Shine gladly o'er thy tomb; To see the wild flowers o'er it run In such luxuriant bloom. Now I feel glad that they should keep A bright sweet watch above thy sleep.
The heaven whence thy nature came Only recall'd its own; It is Hope that now breathes thy name, Though borrowing Memory’s tone. I feel this earth could never be The native home of one like thee.
Farewell! the early dews that fall Upon thy grass-grown bed Are like the thoughts that now recall Thine image from the dead. A blessing hallows thy dark cell— I will not stay to weep. Farewell!
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Keepsake, 1831/The Return

* NANTES
* Painted by J. M. W. Turner R. A.Engraved by J. T. Willmore
THE RETURN.
BY MISS L. E. LANDON.
Nantz is a fair city, but it seemed the very fairest in the world to the traveller, for he had been absent years: he left it poor, but he came back rich; and the home of his youth was again to be the home of his age.
"Drop down your oars, the waters trace Their own path fast enough for me; Life sometimes asks a breathing space— Such I am fain this hour should be.
"Fair city, I am come once more; Travel and toil are on my brow; With all I thought so great of yore— With all I think so little now!
"Sorrow for friends I left behind— Misgiving fears were with me then; And yet I bore a lighter mind Than now I see those walls again.
"Hope is youth's prophet, and foretells The future that its wish reveals; The energy that in us dwells Then judges but by what it feels.
"And it feels buoyant spirits, health, And confidence, and earnestness; And it ascribes such power to wealth Which but to seek is to possess.
"The future was my own: my life Has past as many men's have past; Adventure, trouble, sorrow, strife, Yet with success, and home at last.
"But Hope has ﬂed on morning's wings, And Memory sits with darken’d eye; And I have learn'd life's dearest things Are those which never wealth could buy.
"Affection's circle soon grows less— The dead, the changed, what blanks are there! And what avails half life's success, No early friends can see and share?
"My heart has still turn'd back through years, Whose shadow now around me falls; I dread to turn to truth the fears, The hopes in yonder city's walls.
"How fair a scene, the morning light And human life’s most cheerful sound; The banks so glad, the stream so bright, I hear my native tongue around.
"Oh! for some voice I used to hear, The grasp of one familiar hand; So long desired, and now so near— On, boatmen, on, I long to land."
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Juvenile Forget Me Not, 1837/The Watchful Friend

* THE WATCHFUL FRIEND
* Painted by J. LeBlancEngraved by Miller
Sourced from Four-Footed Favourites, 1862
The Watchful Friend.
In a hidden thicket's shade Is the little maiden laid; O'er her bends the wilding rose, At her side the violet grows: And, instead of feudal splendour, Summer's fragrant airs attend her. More than castle watch or ward O'er her sleep the dog keeps guard: None unseen can venture here With that faithful watcher near. Lady, who to woodlands wild Dost resign thy darling child; Lady, of an ancient line, Sweet and natural faith is thine. Thou dost know what influence lies In the summer sun and skies; Thou dost know what healthy red By the open air is shed: And what pleasant sleep is given By the blue uncurtained heaven; Nor to that fond mother known Outward influence alone.
She hath deeper thoughts that tell Of dear Nature's inward spell;
She doth bid the wind impart Its own freshness to the heart. Every flower around is rife With fine poetry for life: Not a perfumed wreath but brings Some true feelings on its wings. On that rosy child await Rank and sway, and wealth and state; Sad, too often, is their dower, Much they need a softening power.
Let with worldlier airs be blent Some diviner element; Let love, poetry, and thought, Be to that fair infant brought; Let the face of nature be Dearest to its infancy; And all after life will keep Treasures from that woodland sleep.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Keepsake, 1829

Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Keepsake, 1829
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
Contents
* Verses(Georgiana. Duchess of Bedford)
* The Altered River
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
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Keepsake, 1829/Altered River

THE ALTERED RIVER.
Thou lovely river, thou art now
 As fair as fair can be,
Pale flowers wreathe upon thy brow,
 The rose bends over thee.
Only the morning sun hath leave
 To turn thy waves to light,
Cool shade the willow branches weave
 When noon becomes too bright.
The lilies are the only boats
 Upon thy diamond plain,
The swan alone in silence floats
 Around thy charm'd domain.
The moss bank's fresh embroiderie,
 With fairy favours starr'd,
Seems made the summer haunt to be
 Of melancholy bard.
Fair as thou art, thou wilt be food
 For many a thought of pain;
For who can gaze upon thy flood,
 Nor wish it to remain
The same pure and unsullied thing
 Where heaven's face is as clear
Mirror'd in thy blue wandering
 As heaven's face can be here.
Flowers fling their sweet bonds on thy breast,
 The willows woo thy stay,
In vain,—thy waters may not rest,
 Their course must be away.
In yon wide world, what wilt thou find?
 What all find—toil and care:
Your flowers you have left behind
 Far other weight to bear.
The heavy bridge confines your stream,  Through which the barges toil,
Smoke has shut out the sun's glad beam,
 Thy waves have caught the soil.
On—on—though weariness it be,
 By shoal and barrier cross'd,
Till thou hast reach'd the mighty sea,
 And there art wholly lost.
Bend thou, young poet, o'er the stream—
 Such fate will be thine own;
Thy lute's hope is a morning dream,
 And when have dreams not flown?
L. E. L.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Keepsake, 1832

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
Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Keepsake, 1832
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
Contents
* Edith
* Good Angels
* An Early Passage in Sir John Perrot's Life
* Do You Remember It?
# Presidential Radio Address - 5 January 2002

Weekly radio address delivered on January 5, 2002.
THE PRESIDENT: Good morning. The events of September the 11th left America sadder and stronger, and they clarified some important goals for our country. We have a war to wage and a recession to fight. Defending our country and strengthening our economy are great priorities for 2002. We must be determined and we must keep our focus.
This Saturday, I'm traveling in Oregon and California, talking with people who have been hit hard by the economic downturn. When I return to Washington on Monday, I will be meeting with my economic advisors and other officials to discuss the latest economic data and work for a quick recovery for our economy.
My administration has offered our ideas for creating new jobs. I've proposed speeding up the tax reductions Congress passed last year, because the faster tax rates come down, the faster our economy will grow.
I have proposed tax refunds for lower and moderate income families, to put money in the hands of people with kids to support and bills to pay. I have proposed reforming the alternative minimum tax so employers and entrepreneurs no longer see their taxes rise as their profits shrink. In tough times, we need to encourage entrepreneurship and small business growth, not punish it.
I've proposed better tax treatment for employers and entrepreneurs who invest in new equipment, which will help the hardworking people who use the equipment and those who manufacture the equipment.
The Council of Economic Advisors estimates that these ideas could save at least 300,000 threatened jobs.
I'm also calling on Congress to act immediately to help the unemployed workers. I've proposed extending unemployment benefits by 13 weeks, and I've supported tax credits to protect the health insurance of workers who've been laid off.
But we can't stop there. It is important to help workers who've lost their jobs. It is even more important to help workers find new jobs. In tough times, people need a unemployment check; but what they want is a paycheck. Americans want the independence of a job, and the satisfaction of providing for their families themselves. A job is more than a source of income; it is a source of dignity.
I made my proposals to create new jobs and help dislocated workers on October the 4th, three months and 943,000 lost jobs ago. The House of Representatives accepted my proposals. But the Senate Democratic leadership would not even schedule a vote. Some in the Senate seem to think we can afford to do nothing, that the economy will get better on its own, sooner or later. I say that if your job is in danger or you have a loved one out of work, you want that recovery sooner, not later.
We need a plan to lengthen unemployment benefits, we need a plan to shorten the recession. The Senate should act on both. America's workers cannot afford more delay.
Thank you for listening.
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).
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# Poetical Remains of the Late Mrs Hemans/Dreams of Heaven

DREAMS OF HEAVEN.
We colour Heaven with our own human thoughts, Our vain aspirings, fond remembrances; Our passionate love, that seems unto itself An Immortality.
Dream'st thou of Heaven?—what dreams are thine?  Fair child, fair gladsome child? With eyes that like the dew-drop shine,  And bounding footsteps wild!
Tell me what hues the immortal shore  Can wear, my Bird! to thee? Ere yet one shadow hath pass'd o'er  Thy glance and spirit free?
"Oh! beautiful is Heaven, and bright,  With long, long summer days; I see its lilies gleam in light,  Where many a fountain plays.
"And there uncheck'd, methinks, I rove,  And seek where young flowers lie, In vale and golden-fruited grove—  Flowers that are not to die!"
Thou Poet of the lonely thought,  Sad heir of gifts divine! Say with what solemn glory fraught,  Is Heaven in dreams of thine?
"Oh! where the living waters flow  Along that radiant shore, My soul, a wanderer here, shall know  The exile-thirst no more.
"The burden of the stranger's heart  Which here alone I bear, Like the night-shadow shall depart,  With my first wakening there.
"And borne on eagle-wings afar,  Free thought shall claim its dower, From every realm, from every star,  Of glory and of power."
O woman! with the soft sad eye,  Of spiritual gleam, Tell me of those bright worlds on high,  How doth thy fond heart dream?
By thy sweet mournful voice I know,  On thy pale brow I see, That thou hast lov'd, in fear, and woe—  Say what is Heaven to thee?
"Oh! Heaven is where no secret dread  May haunt Love's meeting hour, Where from the past no gloom is shed  O'er the heart's chosen bower:
"Where every sever'd wreath is bound—  Where none have heard the knell That smites the heart with that deep sound—  Farewell,—belov'd, farewell!"
# Poetical Remains of the Late Mrs Hemans/Exclamation of Iphigenia on seeing her Brother

II.
EXCLAMATION OF IPHIGENIA ON SEEING HER BROTHER.
Oh hear me, look upon me, how my heart After long desolation now unfolds Unto this new delight, to kiss thy head, Thou dearest, dearest one of all on Earth! To clasp thee with my arms which were but thrown On the void winds before! Oh give me way, Give my soul's rapture way, the eternal fount, Leaps not more brightly forth from cliff to cliff Of high Parnassus, down the golden vale, Than the strong joy bursts gushing from my heart, And swells around me to a flood of bliss, Orestes! Oh my Brother!
# Poetical Remains of the Late Mrs Hemans/Distant Sound of the Sea at Evening

VI.
DISTANT SOUND OF THE SEA AT EVENING.
Yet, rolling far up some green mountain dale, Oft let me hear, as oft-times I have heard, Thy swell, thou deep! when evening calls the bird, And bee to rest; when summer tints grow pale, Seen through the gathering of a dewy veil, And peasant steps are hastening to repose, And gleaming flocks lie down, and flower-cups close To the last whisper of the falling gale. Then, 'midst the dying of all other sound, When the soul hears thy distant voice profound, Lone-worshipping, and knows that through the night 'Twill worship still, then most its anthem tone Speaks to our being of the Eternal One, Who girds tired nature with unslumbering might.
# Poetical Remains of the Late Mrs Hemans/Dreams of the Dead

III.
DREAMS OF THE DEAD.
Oft in still night-dreams a departed face Bends o'er me with sweet earnestness of eye, Wearing no more of earthly pains a trace, But all the tender pity that may lie On the clear brow of Immortality, Calm yet profound. Soft rays illume that mien, The unshadowed moonlight of some far off sky Around it floats transparently serene As a pure veil of waters. O rich sleep! Thou hast strong spirits in thy regions deep, Which glorify with reconciling breath, Effacing, brightening, giving forth to shine Beauty's high truth, and how much more divine Thy power when linked in this, with thy stern brother—Death!
# Poetical Remains of the Late Mrs Hemans/From the Italian of Filicaya

From the Italian of Filicaya.
Italia, oh! Italia! thou, so graced With ill-starred beauty, which to thee hath been A dower, whose fatal splendour may be traced In the deep graven sorrows of thy mien; Oh! that more strength, or fewer charms were thine! That those might fear thee more, or love thee less, Who seem to worship at thy radiant shrine, Then pierce thee with the death-pang's bitterness! Not then would foreign hosts have drained the tide Of that Eridanus thy blood hath dyed; Nor from the Alps would legions, still renewed, Pour down; nor wouldst thou wield an alien brand, And fight thy battles with the stranger's hand, Still, still a slave, victorious or subdued!