OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Seven Seas/The Three-Decker

THE THREE-DECKER
Full thirty foot she towered from waterline to rail. It cost a watch to steer her, and a week to shorten sail; But, spite all modern notions, I found her first and best— The only certain packet for the Islands of the Blest.
Fair held the breeze behind us—'twas warm with lovers' prayers. We'd stolen wills for ballast and a crew of missing heirs. They shipped as Able Bastards till the Wicked Nurse confessed, And they worked the old three-decker to the Islands of the Blest.
​By ways no gaze could follow, a course unspoiled of cook, Per Fancy, fleetest in man, our titled berth we took With maids of matchless beauty and parentage unguessed, And a Church of England parson for the Islands of the Blest.
We asked no social questions—we pumped no hidden shame— We never talked obstetrics when the Little Stranger came: We left the Lord in Heaven, we left the fiends in Hell. We weren't exactly Yussufs, but—Zuleika didn't tell.
No moral doubt assailed us, so when the port we neared, The villain had his flogging at the gangway, and we cheered. ​'Twas fiddle in the forc's'le—'twas garlands on the mast, For everyone got married, and I went ashore at last.
I left 'em all in couples a'kissing on the decks. I left the lovers loving and the parents signing cheques. In endless English comfort by county-folk caressed, I left the old three-decker at the Islands of the Blest!
That route is barred to steamers: you'll never lift again Our purple-painted headlands or the lordly keeps of Spain. They're just beyond your skyline, howe'er so far you cruise In a ram-you-damn-you liner with a brace of bucking screws.
​Swing round your aching search-light—'twill show no haven's peace. Ay, blow your shrieking sirens to the deaf, greybearded seas! Boom out the dripping oil-bags to skin the deep's unrest— And you aren't one knot the nearer to the Islands of the Blest!
But when you're threshing, crippled, with broken bridge and rail, At a drogue of dead convictions to hold you head to gale, Calm as the Flying Dutchman, from truck to taff rail dressed, You'll see the old three-decker for the Islands of the Blest.
'You'll see her tiering canvas in sheeted silver spread; You'll hear the long-drawn thunder 'neath her leaping figure-head; ​While far, so far above you, her tall poop-lanterns shine Unvexed by wind or weather like the candles round a shrine!
Hull down—hull down and under—she dwindles to a speck, With noise of pleasant music and dancing on her deck. All's well—all's well aboard her—she's left you far behind, With a scent of old-world roses through the fog that ties you blind.
Her crew are babes or madmen? Her port is all to make? You're manned by Truth and Science, and you steam for steaming's sake? Well, tinker up your engines—you know your business best— She's taking tired people to the Islands of the Blest!
# The Stephenson Family

* related portals: Genealogy.
* sister projects: Commons category, Wikidata item.
The Stephenson Family
By J. C. Stephenson
* Dedication
* Preface
* Section 1
* Section 2
* Section 3
* Section 4
* Section 5
* Section 6
* Section 7
* Section 8
* Section 9
* Section 10
* Section 11
* Section 12
* Section 13
* Section 14
* Section 15
* Section 16
* Section 17
* Section 18
* Section 19
* Section 20
* Section 21
* Section 22
* Section 23
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 Steeple-Jack

Dürer would have seen a reason for living in a town like this, with eight stranded whales to look at; with the sweet sea air coming into your house on a fine day, from water etched with waves as formal as the scales on a fish.
One by one in two's and three's, the seagulls keep flying back and forth over the town clock, or sailing around the lighthouse without moving their wings -- rising steadily with a slight quiver of the body -- or flock mewing where
a sea the purple of the peacock's neck is paled to greenish azure as Dürer changed the pine green of the Tyrol to peacock blue and guinea gray. You can see a twenty-five- pound lobster; and fish nets arranged to dry. The
whirlwind fife-and-drum of the storm bends the salt marsh grass, disturbs stars in the sky and the star on the steeple; it is a privilege to see so much confusion. Disguised by what might seem the opposite, the sea- side flowers and
trees are favored by the fog so that you have the tropics first hand: the trumpet-vine, fox-glove, giant snap-dragon, a salpiglossis that has spots and stripes; morning-glories, gourds, or moon-vines trained on fishing-twine at the back door;
cat-tails, flags, blueberries and spiderwort, striped grass, lichens, sunflowers, asters, daisies -- yellow and crab-claw ragged sailors with green bracts -- toad-plant, petunias, ferns; pink lilies, blue ones, tigers; poppies; black sweet-peas. The climate
is not right for the banyan, frangipani, or jack-fruit trees; or for exotic serpent life. Ring lizard and snake-skin for the foot, if you see fit; but here they've cats, not cobras, to keep down the rats. The diffident little newt
with white pin-dots on black horizontal spaced- out bands lives here; yet there is nothing that ambition can buy or take away. The college student named Ambrose sits on the hillside with his not-native books and hat and sees boats
at sea progress white and rigid as if in a groove. Liking an elegance of which the sourch is not bravado, he knows by heart the antique sugar-bowl shaped summer-house of interlacing slats, and the pitch of the church
spire, not true, from which a man in scarlet lets down a rope as a spider spins a thread; he might be part of a novel, but on the sidewalk a sign says C. J. Poole, Steeple Jack, in black and white; and one in red and white says
Danger. The church portico has four fluted columns, each a single piece of stone, made modester by white-wash. Theis would be a fit haven for waifs, children, animals, prisoners, and presidents who have repaid sin-driven
senators by not thinking about them. The place has a school-house, a post-office in a store, fish-houses, hen-houses, a three-masted schooner on the stocks. The hero, the student, the steeple-jack, each in his way, is at home.
It could not be dangerous to be living in a town like this, of simple people, who have a steeple-jack placing danger signs by the church while he is gilding the solid- pointed star, which on a steeple stands for hope.
# The Steel Horse/end matter

Layout 2
FAMOUS STANDARD
JUVENILE LIBRARIES.
ANY VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELY AT $1.00 PER VOLUME
(Except the Sportsman's Club Series, Frank Nelson Series and Jack Hazard Series.).
Each Volume Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth.
HORATIO ALGER, JR.
The enormous sales of the books of Horatio Alger, Jr., show the greatness of his popularity among the boys, and prove that he is one of their most favored writers. I am told that more than half a million copies altogether have been sold, and that all the large circulating libraries in the country have several complete sets, of which only two or three volumes are ever on the shelves at one time. If this is true, what thousands and thousands of boys have read and are reading Mr. Alger's books! His peculiar style of stories, often imitated but never equaled, have taken a hold upon the young people, and, despite their similarity, are eagerly read as soon as they appear.
Mr. Alger became famous with the publication of that undying book, "Ragged Dick, or Street Life in New York." It was his first book for young people, and its success was so great that he immediately devoted himself to that kind of writing. It was a new and fertile field for a writer then, and Mr. Alger's treatment of it at once caught the fancy of the boys. "Ragged Dick" first appeared in 1868, and ever since then it has been selling steadily, until now it is estimated that about 200,000 copies of the series have been sold.
—Pleasant Hours for Boys and Girls.
# The Steelyard

Article published in Once a Week in July 1861, to which the author added a postscript in October.
* The Steelyard
* Postscript
# The Stephen Morgan

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
94 U.S. 599
The Stephen Morgan
APPEAL from the Circuit Court of the United States for the District of Maryland.
The facts are stated in the opinion of the court.
Mr. F. W. Brune and Mr. Arthur G. Brown for the appellants.
Mr. I. Nevitt Steele and Mr. Thomas W. Hall, contra.
MR. JUSTICE CLIFFORD delivered the opinion of the court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Spook Hills Mystery

"In which this capital teller of Western tales opens up a new field of romance under present-day conditions, that bids fair to rival the old scenes of the "Happy Family."
The Spook Hills Mystery
By B. M. Bower
Author of "Good Indian," "Fortune's Football," Etc.
No writer of "cowboy" stories can equal B. M. Bower. Ever since "Chip" of immortal memory Bower has been easily first among the writers who stage their dramas in the wide spaces of the cattle country. There is something new about this novel. It has to do with the cow-puncher, but also it holds a mystery, one of those intangible, eerie things that savor of ghostly visitations. The mountains held the secret, and holding it, they were re-christened the "Spook Hills." It took a stranger in the West to fathom the mystery. A fine story.
(A Complete Novel)
* Chapter I
* Chapter II
* Chapter III
* Chapter IV
* Chapter V
* Chapter VI
* Chapter VII
* Chapter VIII
* Chapter IX
* Chapter X
* Chapter XI
* Chapter XII
* Chapter XIII
* Chapter XIV
* Chapter XV
* Chapter XVI
* Chapter XVII
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1940, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 83 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 Sheriff of Pecos

New York: Doubleday Page & Co, 1923; first edition.
The Sheriff of Pecos
BY H. BEDFORD-JONES
GARDEN CITY NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
1923
COPYRIGHT, I923, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY STREET & SMITH CORPORATION
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
First Edition

### CONTENTS

* chapterpage
* I. Jack Robinson 1
* II. Exit Matt Brady 11
* III. Robinson's Partner 22
* IV. Buck Lays Plans 30
* V. Buck's Lucky Day 42
* VI. Proof 51
* VII. Masks Off 59
* VIII. Exit Mr. P. Brady 68
* IX. Fisher Rides North 78
* X. The Last Stake 88
* XI. The Trap is Sprung 97
* XII. The Clean-Up 105
* XIII. Finis 111
* advertisement
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1949, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 74 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 Sleeping Beauty (Evans)/Chapter 7

CHAPTER VII
By these devices the King felt certain that he had averted the fate laid upon his daughter.
But the promises of the other wise women were fulfilled to the letter, for the young Princess grew up to be the most beautiful, gifted and gracious maiden in all the world. That, at any rate, was what everybody in the palace said, ​from the lords and ladies down to the scullions in the kitchen, and although people are inclined sometimes to flatter Royalty, in this case there was reason for their admiration.
To begin with, the Princess was as lovely as a spring morning, with eyes of the purest, softest blue, and hair in which the rays of the sun seemed to be entangled. When she came into a room people stopped whatever they were doing to look at her, and everyone felt happier because she was there.
​And her cleverness! She never had any trouble with her letters or her multiplication table. She could cipher as easily as she could spell; she knew the history of her own country and of every country round it; and nobody could puzzle her with the hardest question in geography. She could sew and embroider, and knit and paint and draw;
Besides this, there were all her other accomplishments; she could play on all sorts of musical instruments, as, for instance, fiddle and zither, large harp and jew’s-harp, church organ and mouth organ, flute and penny-whistle, and even on the nursery comb; she could sing like a nightingale and dance
What a day that was! Everybody came to wish her many happy returns, and she had so many presents that at least a dozen servants were kept busy unwrapping the parcels. The King gave her a white pony with a saddle of red velvet, and bridle and stirrups of gold, while the Queen’s present was a beautiful and costly necklace of pearls. Even the boy who turned the spit in the kitchen brought her something, and though it was only a little wooden shoe which he had carved with his own hands, the
The only person who was not happy on the Princess’s birthday was the Queen, and she went about with a pale face and a look of great anxiety.
“Come, come, my love,” said the King, “what is the matter with you? Surely you are not thinking of that foolish old prophecy!”
“How can I help thinking about it?” the Queen answered. “I have not been able to get it out of my mind for fifteen-years, and now that the day has come I am afraid.”
“Make your mind easy,” said the King. “Nothing is going to happen. Why, there’s not a spinning-wheel within a hundred miles. I have taken good care of that!’ And he went away chuckling, to attend a meeting of his Cabinet. But the Queen shook her head.
There was a key in the lock.
# The Sleeping Beauty (Evans)/Chapter 2

CHAPTER II
Now what joy there was in the hearts of everybody in the palace! The King was so excited that he went into council in his dressing-gown instead of his royal robe, and he did not care a bit when his courtiers smiled. There was coming and going in all the halls and corridors. Couriers on swift horses were sent out to bear the glad news to the most distant parts of the kingdom. All the bells in the churches were rung; flags were put out in the houses and streamers were hung across the roadways. Then the cannons were fired, bang, bang, bang, to tell the people that everybody was to have a holiday, so that all, from the highest to the lowest, might rejoice in their Queen’s happiness.
“Never was there such a beautiful child,” said the King, looking down at his little daughter as she lay in her mother’s arms. He wanted very much to nurse her, but this could not be allowed, because men are so clumsy with babies.
“What shall her name be?” said the King. And he suggested all the grandest names he could call to mind, for he thought that such a wonderful child must certainly have a name to suit. But the Queen would have none of them.
“She shall be called Briar-Rose,” said the Queen; and so it was arranged.
A few weeks later the christening took place. That was a splendid ceremony to be sure, for all the lords and
At the palace, a magnificent feast had been prepared.
Now it was the custom in those days, when a King’s child was christened, for all the fairies in the country to be invited to the christening feast. Each fairy was bound to bring a gift, so of course it stood to reason that the royal child would have everything that the heart could possibly desire.
Well, the guests assembled in the banqueting hall of the palace and the feast began.
# The Sleeping Beauty (Evans)/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX
Everybody told him a different tale. One said that it was an old castle haunted by spirits; another, that it was a meeting-place for all the witches and sorcerers in the land, who gathered there to practise their secret rites.
“No, no,” said a third. “That castle is the home of a giant, and all the people in these parts are very much afraid of him, so I have been told, because he steals their cattle and their crops, and even carries off their children to be his servants. And they cannot go to the rescue of those he has imprisoned in this way, because of the forest all round the castle, which is so dense that nobody can force his way through. ​And so they went on, one saying one thing, and one another, for each repeated what he had heard. At last an old peasant stepped forward.
“Fifty years ago, my Prince,” said he, “my father told me the story of that castle, and since he was born in these parts, I think it was the true story, and I will tell it you if you would like to hear it.”
The Prince nodded eagerly, and the old man went on:
“My father said that years before he himself was born a King and Queen lived in the castle with their daughter, the most beautiful Princess that ever was seen. In some way or other they angered the fairies, who put a spell upon the place and upon every one within it, so that they fell into a deep sleep. My father said that this sleep would last a hundred years, but at the end of that time a King’s son should come and waken the beautiful Princess and make her his bride.”
When the young Prince heard these words he felt his heart beat quickly. Something seemed to tell him that he and no other was the King’s son who was destined to remove the spell, and he cried: “Show me the way to the castle, for I will take this adventure upon me.”
But the old man shook his head. “I have not yet told you all, my Prince. Many are the young men who have tried to force their way through the thick wood that guards the enchanted castle. Each of them thought that he, and he alone, was destined to awaken the Sleeping Beauty, and each of them set out with high hopes; but none of them all came back, and their bones, whitened by the wind and rain, lie among the thorns of the thick
“What,” cried the Prince with flashing eyes, “shall I hold back when others have dared? This very hour I will attempt to enter the castle, and if I do not return, carry home the news of how I have died.”
Then without paying any heed to the words of those who would prevent him from rushing into such danger, the eager young man set out, his heart on fire with thoughts of love and glory. Nobody showed him the way, but he could see the towers of the castle rising above the distant wood, and when he entered the wood itself, and the towers were hidden, each path he took led him nearer to the place where he would be.
At last he came to an open glade, and there before him was a tangled hedge of thorn, stretching in either direction as far as the eye could see.
# The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood

English-language translations of La Belle au bois dormant include:

### Anonymous chapbook translation

* "Sleeping beauty in the wood", anonymous translation, chapbook edition (c. 1800)
* "The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood", anonymous translation, chapbook edition (1817)
* "The Sleeping beauty of the wood", anonymous translation, chapbook edition (1840s)

### Robert Samber translation

* "The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood", translated by Robert Samber, in The Blue Fairy Book (ed. Andrew Lang, 1889)
* "The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood", translated by Robert Samber, in The fairy tales of Charles Perrault (ed. Jean Edmond Mansion, 1922)

### Other translations

* Translation:Sleeping Beauty (La bella durmiente del bosque), anonymous Spanish translation (1900), translated into English by Wikisource
* "The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood", translated by Charles Welsh, in The Tales of Mother Goose (1901)
* "The Sleeping Beauty", translated by Arthur Quiller-Couch, in The sleeping beauty and other fairy tales from the old French (1915)
* "The Sleeping Beauty", translated by Samuel Robinson Littlewood, in The Allies' Fairy Book (1916)
* "The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood", translated by A. E. Johnson, in Old time stories (1921)
# The Winter Nosegay

Source: Poems of William Cowper, Esq; By William Cowper, J. Limbird, 1824
THE WINTER NOSEGAY.
What Nature, alas! has denied  To the delicate growth of our isle, Art has in a measure supplied,  And Winter is deck'd with a smile. See, Mary, what beauties I bring  From the shelter of that sunny shed,
Where the flow'rs have the charms of the spring,  Though abroad they are frozen and dead.
'Tis a bow'r of Arcadian sweets,  Where Flora is still in her prime,
A fortress to which she retreats  From the cruel assaults of the clime.
While Earth wears a mantle of snow,  These pinks are as fresh and as gay
As the fairest and sweetest that blow  On the beautiful bosom of May.
See how they have safely surviv'd  The frowns of a sky so severe;
Such Mary's true love, that has liv'd  Through many a turbulent year.
The charms of the late blowing rose  Seem grac'd with a livelier hue,
And the winter of sorrow best shows,  The truth of a friend such as you.
# The Winter's Tale (Lamb)

A retelling of Shakespeare's play Winter's Tale.
* "The Winter's Tale," in Tales from Shakspeare (1831), by Charles and Mary Lamb
* "The Winter's Tale," in Tales from Shakespeare (1908), by Charles and Mary Lamb, illustrated by Arthur Rackham
# The Song of the Lark/Part 5

Layout 2
PART V
DR. ARCHIE'S VENTURE
* Chapter I
* Chapter II
* Chapter III
* Chapter IV
* Chapter V
# The Story of Prague

* related portals: Czech lands.
* sister projects: Commons category, Wikidata item.
* The Story of Prague (1902) (transcription project)
* The Story of Prague (1920, reprint)
# The Story of Prague (1920)

* related portals: Czech lands.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons gallery, Commons category, quotes, news, travel guide, Wikidata item.
The Story of PRAGUE by Count Lützow Illustrated by Nelly Erichsen
London: J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd. Aldine House, 10 to 13 Bedford Street Covent Garden, W.C. 1920
| First Edition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . | 1902 |
| Reprinted . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . | 1907, 1920 |
All rights reserved
To
Professor MORFILL, M.A.
Corresponding Member of the Royal Scientific Society of Bohemia, who has so largely contributed to making Bohemia known to England
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
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