OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Slide-rule

Edition of 1920. See also Slide rule on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
SLIDE-RULE, an instrument for doing various mathematical operations in a mechanical way. It consists of two or more very accurately graduated and numbered pieces of wood or other material, one or more of which slides in a groove in the other. It may be flat or cylindrical. By shifting the movable slide or slides a variety of tedious arithmetical
problems can be conveniently solved. It is almost indispensable to the draftsman and machine designer.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Sleeper-Shark

Edition of 1920. See also the disclaimer.
SLEEPER-SHARK. See Sharks.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Sleeping Beauty, The

Edition of 1920. See also Sleeping Beauty on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
SLEEPING BEAUTY, The, a fairy tale, probably founded on nature's long sleep in winter. The Earth-goddess falls into a deep sleep, from which she is aroused by the prince, the Sun. We may compare Demeter's search for her lost daughter, Proserpine, in the Greek myth; and the sleep of Brynhild, stung to her sleep by the sleep-thorn. ‘The Two Brothers,’ found in an Egyptian papyrus of the 19th Dynasty — the time of Seti II — contains similar incidents. The spindle whose prick causes the long slumber is a counterpart of the arrow that wounds Achilles, the thorn that pricks Sigurd and the mistletoe fatal to Baldur. In ‘Surya Bai’ (from ‘Old Deccan Days’) the mischief is done by the poisoned nail of a demon. In the Greek myth of Orpheus, Eurydice is stung by the serpent. In a Transylvania variant a maiden spins her golden hair in a cavern, from which she is rescued by a man who undergoes an hour of torture for three nights. The awakening by a kiss corresponds to Sigurd's rousing Brynhild by his magic sword.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Slavonia

Edition of 1920. See also Slavonia on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
SLAVONIA, a former territory of Austria-Hungary which, with Croatia, constituted the provinces of Croatia and Slavonia, forming part of the possessions of the Hungarian crown. It is bounded on the northeast by Hungary, on the south by Bosnia and part of Serbia and on the west by Croatia and has an area of 3,640 square miles, exclusive of that portion of the military frontier lying between Slavonia and Croatia, which may be regarded as falling within its limits. A branch of the Carniolan Alps, entering Slavonia from Croatia on the west, traverses it throughout its whole length, forming the watershed between the Drave on the north and the Save to the south. The forests are very rich and cover the upper mountain sides on whose lower slopes cultivation is actively carried on. The valleys are extremely fertile; but there are large swamps created by the frequent inundations of the river, rendering the climate in parts extremely unhealthy. Agriculture is the most important occupation, the principal products being grain, fruit, flax, hemp and wine, and the leading exports, grain, wine, fruit, cattle, lumber and the celebrated Slivovitz brandy, distilled from plums. The inhabitants are chiefly Serbs and profess for the greater part the Roman Catholic and the Greek Orthodox faith. The chief town is Eszek. With Croatia it had a national Landtag or Diet and sent representatives to the Hungarian Parliament. The population of Croatia and Slavonia is about 2,600,000.
As part of Illyricum, Slavonia was acquired by the Romans in the reign of Augustus and was incorporated with the province of Pannonia. From the Byzantines it was wrested in the 5th and 6th centuries by the invading Slavic tribes, from which time dates its close union with the country to the west which came to be known as Croatia. The united state was ruled by princes of the Hungarian royal house till the early part of the 16th century, when Slavonia was overrun by the Turks. They were driven out at the end of the following century and the territory was organized on a military basis for the defense of the Austrian frontier. Part of Slavonia was placed under civil administration in 1745, but the military frontier was not done away with until 1873. The two provinces had autonomy for home affairs, public instruction and justice. At the Jugoslav Convention held in Geneva in November 1918 a national government representing all Jugoslav provinces was constituted and Slavonia became a part of the new state. See Jugoslavia; Austria-Hungary; Croatia-Slavonia.
# The Heart of England/Chapter 23

CHAPTER XXIII
THE PRIDE OF THE MORNING
The sun has been up for an hour without impediment, but the meadows are rough silver under a mist after last night's frost. The greens in cottage gardens are of a bright, cold hue between blue and grey, which is fitter for the armour of heaven, or the landscape of some strong mystic, than for one who loathes to leave his bed. The blackbirds are scattering the frost, and they live in glittering little hazes while they flutter in the grass.
But the sky is of an eager, luminous pale blue that speaks of health and impetuousness and success. Across it, low down, lie pure white clouds, preserving, though motionless, many torn and tumultuous forms; they have sharp edges against the blue and invade it with daggers of the same white; they are as vivid in their place in that eager sky as yews on a pale, bright lawn, or as lightning in blue night. If pure and hale intelligence could be visibly expressed, it would be like that. The eyes of the wayfarer at once either dilate in an effort for a moment at least to be equal in beauty with the white and blue, clear sky, or they grow dim with dejection at the impossibility. The brain also dilates and takes deep breaths of life, and casts out stale thought and coddled ​emotion. It scorns afterthought as the winds are flouting the penitent half moon.
A squadron of wild fowl races through the crystal air; the mind expands with their speed, and tries to share it, and believes that it succeeds. A heron goes over solemnly, high up, and as if upon some starry business in that profound, bright air; the mind at once attunes itself to that majesty and directness and simplicity—
A starling sits on the weathercock with ruffled feathers watching the sky with one eye and then with the other, and his form and voice are sharp and pure as they joyfully pierce the air. The weathercock itself shines like Mars. Together, they speak of the cold and vigour and health and beauty which abide somewhere in the sky to-day and not inaccessibly.
High above me, here and there upon the road, stand oast-houses, with their conical roofs ruddy against the sky, and over them the newly painted white cowls point eastward, and in their whiteness seem to have been set as a signal to say that it is the west wind after frost that has made the world what it is; they point out a road which, if I could follow it, would lead to the very court of mind and beauty, yonder, afar off, where the wind and the heron and the wild ducks are going. There I might learn to realise the long, joyous curves in which thought and action and life itself sweep onward to their triumphs…
But I know well that long hopes and wide, vaulting ​thoughts are not usually nourished by lane and footpath and highway, on and on; and probably I shall stop at "The Black Horse" over the next hill, where a man may always lighten his burden on a Tuesday by hearing the price of beasts.
# The Heart of England/Chapter 24

CHAPTER XXIV
THE METAMORPHOSIS
As the sun rose I watched a proud ash tree shedding its leaves after a night of frost. It let them go by threes and tens and twenties; very rarely, with little intervals, only one at a time; once or twice a hundred in one flight. Leaflet—for they fall by leaflets—and stalk twirled through the windless air as if they would have liked to fall not quite so rapidly as their companions to that brown and shining and oblivious carpet below. A gentle wind arose from the north and the leaves all went sloping in larger companies to the ground—falling, falling, whispering as they joined the fallen, they fell for a longer time than a poppy spends in opening and shedding its husk in June. But soon only two leaves were left vibrating. In a little while they also, both together, make the leap, twinkling for a short space and then shadowed and lastly bright and silent on the grass. Then the tree stood up entirely bereaved and without a voice, in the silver light of the morning that was still young, and wrote once more its grief in complicated scribble upon a sky of intolerably lustrous pearl.
But by the next day the grief was healed, for what was clearest about its branches was the swiftness and down​ward rushing and curving flight which they suggested—as of birds stooping in lines to their tree-top nests—as of divers at the moment when their descent mingles with their ascent—as of winged Greek gods and goddesses slanting to earth with wave-like breasts.
# The Heart of England/Chapter 20

CHAPTER XX
A GOLDEN AGE
Almost at the end of a long walk, and as a small silver sun was leaving a pale and frosty sky, we began to ascend a broad, heaving meadow which was bordered on our right, on its eastern side, by a long, narrow copse of ash trees. At the top of the meadow, hardly a quarter of a mile away, was a little red farmhouse—yet not so little but that it rose with a maternal dignity among and above the sheds and stables, its children, and, like it, of antique red. The home and dependencies gave out a sense of solidity, independence and seclusion. Our hearts acknowledged at once that it was desirable, saluted it, and were calmly glad at the sight.
At that moment the tumult of a windy day was entirely gone. The north wind now lay dead upon the long white clouds in the east. The smoke from the farmhouse chimneys flowed southward along the top of the ash trees in a narrow, motionless rivulet in the calm air. Far off the hoofs of the returning hunt clattered decently, and combined with the dim memory of the wind in trees and sedge to give to the great meadow an emphasised tranquillity like that which fills an invalid's room when others ​are just audibly busy about and below. We walked more and more slowly up the meadow. The red house was clear and hard in the grey air, yet with a richness and implicated shadow as of things submerged. Something which it gave out abundantly filled our minds that had for hours played with casual and untraceable thoughts and images—descended like an enthusiasm among criticisms. In a minute the house was beautiful; it seemed to flower with the happiness of men and women and little children living melodiously; there, we thought, must be minds and bodies which, without carelessness and without stupidity, found in life what some expect from the future and some feign to remember in the past; there was character and beauty and strength, which time flowed over in vain. Hither, it seemed, had drifted upon Lethe's stream all the hopes and wishes and recollections and unaccomplished dreams of unhappy men, and had formed at last a blossoming island in the waste.
And some were enjoying that island now. The very smoke from the chimneys had goodness in it. Even as we walked we turned the moment past into a Golden Age, except that, whenever we looked up towards the house, we knew that all was not yet lost, and that a golden age might still succeed the last. Overhead sailed some little rosy clouds that were part of the blossom of that house.
Then suddenly a fearless child ran into the garden and blew a horn and disappeared. Then we knew that the past moments had been as when, in the old tale, men saw an anchor let down out of the clouds and rooted in the ground, and, looking up saw a rope shaken as if to dislodge ​the anchor, and heard the voices of sailors aloft in the sky, and then saw a man clambering down the rope and dying at last, as if he had been drowned in the air which they breathed easily, and the voices aloft were heard no more.
# The Heart of England/Chapter 26

CHAPTER XXVI
NOVEMBER RAIN
Close, perpendicular, quiet rain came upon me when I was ten miles from last night's shelter and ten miles from my end. Shelter was not near, nor indeed to be thought of in an untrodden lane which had been, for some time, and seemed to go on for ever, winding through the delicious, vacant country of a late autumn Sunday, while it was yet early in the day and yet not so early but that the milking was over, and the milk carts gone, and the cattle satisfied and slow after their first questing in the fields. The rain was so dense, and the light so restrained, and the drops hung so about my eyes, and the sound and the sweetness of it made my brain so well contented with all that umber country asleep, that what I saw was little compared with what reached me by touch and by darker channels still. I rarely see much in the country—a few herbs underfoot, the next field, the horizon woods, some brief light that shows only its departing hem; for, like others, I always carry out into the fields a vast baggage of prejudices from books and strong characters whom I have met. My going forth, although simple enough to the eye, is truly as pompous as that of a rajah who goes through the jungle on a tall and richly encrusted elephant, with a great retinue, and much ceremony and noise. As ​he frightens bird and beast, and tramples on herb and grass, so I scatter from my path many things which are lying in wait for a discoverer. There is no elephant more heavy-footed and no rifle more shattering than the egoism of an imitative brain. And thus the little thing I saw was an unusual discovery.
It was a triangular, six-acre wood below me, across a bare and soaking ploughland. The wood was mainly of ash and the myriad stems were a grey mist, only denser and a little clearer than the rain itself. Out of them rose half a hundred oaks which were exuberant in foliage of hues so vigorous and splendid in their purple that it was impossible to think of it as on the edge of death, but easy to think of it as in a deathless prime. One thrush sang heartily somewhere deep among the ash trees, and that was the only sound, for the sound of the rain was but a carpet on which that song walked forth, delicate footed, haughty and beautiful…
When I had walked another mile, the wood was out of sight, the thrush unheard. The wood is now purple immortally, for ever that song emerges from its heart, as free from change as one whom we remember vividly in the tip-toe of his exulting youth, and dying then has escaped huskiness, and a stoop, and foul breath, and a steady view of life.
# The Folk-Lore Journal/Volume 7

THE
FOLK-LORE JOURNAL
VOL. VII.
(JANUARY—DECEMBER 1889.)
Alter et Idem
LONDON:
PUBLISHED FOR THE FOLK-LORE SOCIETY
BY ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1889.
[XXIV.]
CONTENTS.
| | PAGE |
| Abercromby (Hon. J.). The Beliefs and Religious Superstitions of the Mordvins | 65-135 |
| Annual Reports | 1-21, 356-375 |
| Babcock (W. H.). The London Ballads | 27-35 |
| Burne (Miss C. S.). Derbyshire and Staffordshire Sayings | 291-295 |
| Congress of Folklorists at Paris | 275-276 |
| Clodd (E.). Notes on African Folklore &c. | 22-25 |
| —— The Philosophy of Rumpelstiltskin | 135-163 |
| Frazer (J. G). Notes on Harvest Customs | 47-53 |
| —— A South African Red Riding Hood | 167-168 |
| Gomme (G. L.). Coorg Folklore | 295-306 |
| G. (A. S.). Wexford Folklore | 38-40 |
| Gregor (Rev. W.). Some Folklore of Trees, Animals, and River-fishing from the N.E. of Scotland | 41-44 |
| —— John Glaick, the Brave Tailor | 163-165 |
| —— The Clever Apprentice | 166-167 |
| —— Bread | 195-198 |
| —— Kelpie Stories | 199-201 |
| —— The Witch | 277-286 |
| —— Devil Stories | 287-290 ​ |
| Guthrie (Ellen E.). Superstitions of the Scottish Fishermen | 44-47 |
| Kinahan (G. H.). Some Irish Proverbs | 35-38 |
| Members, List of | 377-386 |
| Morris (Rev. Dr. R.). Death's Messengers | 179-191 |
| Moule (H. J.). Batcombe Cross | 25-27 |
| Notes and Queries | 53-63, 174-178, 265, 313-322 |
| Notices and News | 63-64, 266-273, 322-330 |
| Ordish (T. F.). Morris Dance at Revesby | 331-355 |
| St. John (R. F. St. Andrew). Indo-Burmese Folklore | 306-313 |
| Sayce (Rev. Professor A. H.). Cairene Folklore | 191-195 |
| Tabulation of Folktales, | 169-173 ; Appendix, 1-122 |
| Udal (J. S.). Dorsetshire Children's Games, &c | 202-264 |
# The Gateless Gate/Two Monks Roll Up The Screen

Koan number 26 out of 49 in this work (published 1228, translated 1934)
Hogen of Seiryo monastery was about to lecture before dinner when he noticed that the bamboo screen lowered for meditation had not been rolled up. He pointed to it. Two monks arose from the audience and rolled it up.
Hogen, observing the physical moment, said: "The state of the first monk is good, not that of the other."
    Mumon’s comment: I want to ask you: Which of those two monks gained and which lost? If any of you has one eye, he will see the failure on the teacher's part. However, I am not discussing gain and loss.
       When the screen is rolled up the great sky opens,
       Yet the sky is not attuned to Zen.
       It is best to forget the great sky
       And to retire from every wind.
# The Gateless Gate/Ummon's Sidetrack

Koan number 39 out of 49 in this work (published 1228, translated 1934)
A Zen student told Ummon: "Brilliancy of Buddha illuminates the whole universe."
Before he finished the phrase Ummon asked: "You are reciting another's poem, are you not?"
"Yes," answered the student.
"You are sidetracked," said Ummon.
Afterwards another teacher, Shishin, asked his pupils: "At what point did that student go off the track?"
    Mumon’s comment: If anyone perceives Ummon's particular skillfulness, he will know at what point the student was off the track, and he will be a teacher of man and Devas. If not, he cannot even perceive himself.
       When a fish meets the fishhook
       If he is too greedy, he will be caught.
       When his mouth opens
       His life already is lost.
# The Gateless Gate/Zuigan Calls His Own Master

Koan number 12 out of 49 in this work (published 1228, translated 1934)
Zuigan called out to himself every day: "Master."
Then he answered himself: "Yes, sir."
And after that he added: "Become sober."
Again he answered: "Yes, sir."
"And after that," he continued, "do not be deceived by others."
"Yes, sir; yes, sir," he answered.
    Mumon’s comment: Old Zuigan sells out and buys himself. He is opening a puppet show. He uses one mask to call "Master" and another that answers the master. Another mask says "Sober up" and another, "Do not be cheated by others." If anyone clings to any of his masks, he is mistaken, yet if he imitates Zuigan, he will make himself fox-like.
       Some Zen students do not realize the true man in a mask
       Because they recognize ego-soul.
       Ego-soul is the seed of birth and death,
       And foolish people call it the true man.
# The Gateless Gate/Tozan's Three Pounds

Koan number 18 out of 49 in this work (published 1228, translated 1934)
A monk asked Tozan when he was weighing some flax: "What is Buddha?"
Tozan said: "This flax weighs three pounds."
    Mumon’s comment: Old Tozan's Zen is like a clam. The minute the shell opens you see the whole inside. However, I want to ask you: Do you see the real Tozan?
       Three pounds of flax in front of your nose,
       Close enough, and mind is still closer.
       Whoever talks about affirmation and negation
       Lives in the right and wrong region.
# The Gateless Gate/Tipping Over A Water Vase

Koan number 40 out of 49 in this work (published 1228, translated 1934)
Hyakujo wished to send a monk to open a new monastery. He told his pupils that whoever answered a question most ably would be appointed. Placing a water vase on the ground, he asked: "Who can say what this is without calling its name?"
The chief monk said: "No one can call it a wooden shoe."
Isan, the cooking monk, tipped over the vase with his foot and went out.
Hyakujo smiled and said: "The chief monk loses." And Isan became the master of the new monastery.
    Mumon’s comment: Isan was brave enough, but he could not escape Hyakujo's trick. After all, he gave up a light job and took a heavy one. Why, can't you see, he took off his comfortable hat and placed himself in iron stocks.
       Giving up cooking utensils,
       Defeating the chatterbox,
       Though his teacher sets a barrier for him
       His feet will tip over everything, even the Buddha.
# The Gateless Gate/Tokusan Holds His Bowl

Koan number 13 out of 49 in this work (published 1228, translated 1934)
Tokusan went to the dining room from the meditation hall holding his bowl. Seppo was on duty cooking. When he met Tokusan he said: "The dinner drum is not yet beaten. Where are you going with your bowl?"
So Tokusan returned to his room.
Seppo told Ganto about this. Ganto said: "Old Tokusan did not understand ultimate truth."
Tokusan heard of this remark and asked Ganto to come to him. "I have heard," he said, "you are not approving my Zen." Ganto admitted this indirectly. Tokusan said nothing.
The next day Tokusan delivered an entirely different kind of lecture to the monks. Ganto laughed and clapped his hands, saying: "I see our old man understands ultimate truth indeed. None in China can surpass him."
    Mumon’s comment: Speaking about ultimate truth, both Ganto and Tokusan did not even dream it. After all, they are dummies.
       Whoever understands the first truth
       Should understand the ultimate truth.
       The last and first,
       Are they not the same?
# The Gateless Gate/Tozan's Three Blows

Koan number 15 out of 49 in this work (published 1228, translated 1934)
Tozan went to Ummon. Ummon asked him where he had come from.
Tozan said: "From Sato village."
Ummon asked: "In what temple did you remain for the summer?"
Tozan replied: "The temple of Hoji, south of the lake."
"When did you leave there?" asked Ummon, wondering how long Tozan would continue with such factual answers.
"The twenty-fifth of August," answered Tozan.
Ummon said: "I should give you three blows with a stick, but today I forgive you."
The next day Tozan bowed to Ummon and asked: "Yesterday you forgave me three blows. I do not know why you thought me wrong."
Ummon, rebuking Tozan's spiritless responses, said: "You are good for nothing. You simply wander from one monastery to another."
Before Ummon's words were ended Tozan was enlightened.
    Mumon’s comment: Ummon fed Tozan good Zen food. If Tozan can digest it, Ummon may add another member to his family.
    In the evening Tozan swam around in a sea of good and bad, but at dawn Ummon crushed his nut shell. After all, he wasn't so smart.
    Now, I want to ask: Did Tozan deserve the three blows? If you say yes, not only Tozan but every one of you deserves them. If you say no, Ummon is speaking a lie. If you answer this question clearly, you can eat the same food as Tozan.
       The lioness teaches her cubs roughly;
       The cubs jump and she knocks them down.
       When Ummon saw Tozan his first arrow was light;
       His second arrow shot deep.
# The Gateless Gate/Two Souls

Koan number 35 out of 49 in this work (published 1228, translated 1934)
"Seijo, the Chinese girl," observed Goso, "had two souls, one always sick at home and the other in the city, a married woman with two children. Which was the true soul?"
    Mumon’s comment: When one understands this, he will know it is possible to come out from one shell and enter another, as if one were stopping at a transient lodging house. But if he cannot understand, when his time comes and his four elements separate, he will be just like a crab dipped in boiling water, struggling with many hands and legs. In such a predicament he may say: "Mumon did not tell me where to go!" but it will be too late then.
       The moon above the clouds is the same moon,
       The mountains and rivers below are all different.
       Each is happy in its unity and variety.
       This is one, this is two.