OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1806/"It was not in the blooming May"

* It was not in the blooming May,
* It was not in the dimply spring,
* But deep in the leaden gray
* Of the new year's bitterest day,
* That a sweet little bird that had lost her way,
* A tiny feathery thing,
* Lightly perched on my heart's bare spray,
* (Poor little bird, she had lost her way!)
* And folded her downy wing,
* And chirruped and sung on my heart's bare spray,
* Folding her soft wee wing.
* Sitting alone and apart
* Her notes rang clear and keen,
* And lo! with a strange sweet start,
* An exquisite shuddering smart,
* Each unborn bud in my frozen heart,
* Pent in its deeps unseen,
* Flashed to the light, a quivering dart,
* (Each yearning bud in my frozen heart,)
* And thrilled into poignant green;
* And now she nests in my leafy heart,
* Embowered in the shadowy green.
* Good Words.F. Langbridge.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1806/Companions

* COMPANIONS.
* Smile farewell to Sorrow:
* Give to Joy good-morrow:
* And charge him to continue
* A quiet reign within you.
* Smile farewell to Gladness:
* Take the hand of Sadness,
* And wistfully beseech her
* To be your tender teacher.
* So shall both befriend you,
* And to the grave attend you;
* There Sorrow from you sever:
* Joy go with you ever.
* Spectator.
* The Author of "Songs of Killarney."
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1807/"In foolish error I from thee did stray"

* SONNET.
* [TRANSLATED FROM HEINE.]
* In foolish error I from thee did stray,
* Thinking the wide world I would wander o'er
* In quest of love, — love that should have the power
* To fill my heart with all-embracing sway.
* In every street I sought love day by day;
* Beseeching hands I held at every door,
* Asking for but one sign of love, — no more;
* But all with scoffing hatred turned away.
* And still I wandered o'er the weary ground,
* In search of love, — but love I never found.
* Hopeless and sad, at last I homeward turned,
* And thou didst meet me, — and thine eye's soft glance
* My longing heart with rapture did entrance,
* For there I saw the love for which I yearned.
* Spectator.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1806

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XXV. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1806. — January 25, 1879. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXL. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | Prince Bismarck. By Emile de Laveleye, | Fortnightly Review, | 195 |
| II. | A Doubting Heart. By Miss Keary, author of "Castle Daly," "Oldbury," etc. Part XI., | Advance Sheets, | 208 |
| III. | Contemporary Literature. By Journalists, | Blackwood's Magazine, | 222 |
| IV. | Sir Gibbie. By George MacDonald, author of "Malcolm," "The Marquis of Lossie," etc. Part X., | Advance Sheets, | 238 |
| V. | The Vicissitudes of Titles, | Gentleman's Magazine, | 249 |
| VI. | Character-Drawing, | Saturday Review, | 253 |
POETRY. :
| God's Call to Rest, | 194 | Companions, | 194 |
| Consolation, | 194 | |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 256 |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1806/God's Call to Rest

* GOD'S CALL TO REST.
* "And they heard the voice of the Lord in the cool of the day."
* At morn each day God's angel wakes,
* Kindles his lamp in heaven;
* And its rays he flings
* On both serfs and kings:
* So his call to labor is given.
* His lamp goes out; he lieth down,
* And bids men follow him now,
* From the warehoused street,
* From the fishers' fleet,
* From the plain and the mountain brow.
* And though the voice be soft and low,
* As soundless as the dew,
* 'Tis the Friend above,
* 'Tis his call of love
* Who through rest maketh all things new.
* Then heed it well, and quiet be;
* Follow this lead of heaven,
* And in kindly shade
* That thy God hath made,
* Take the rest to weariness given.
* Sunday Magazine.B. W. G.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1807

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XXV. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1807. — February 1, 1879. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXL. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | The Historical Aspect of the United States. By Dean Stanley, | Macmillan's Magazine, | 259 |
| II. | Sir Gibbie. By George MacDonald, author of "Malcolm," "The Marquis of Lossie," etc. Part XI., | Advance Sheets, | 268 |
| III. | The Logic of Toleration. By W. H. Mallock, | Nineteenth Century, | 281 |
| IV. | A Doubting Heart. By Miss Keary, author of "Castle Daly," "Oldbury," etc. Part XII., | Advance Sheets, | 295 |
| V. | George Henry Lewes. By Anthony Trollope, | Fortnightly Review, | 307 |
| VI. | Insectivorous Plants, | Nineteenth Century, | 313 |
| VII. | Dreams, | Saturday Review, | 314 |
| VIII. | Heather, | Blackwood's Magazine, | 317 |
POETRY. :
| Night on the Tweed, | 258 | S.S. "Lusitania". By Matthew Arnold | 258 |
| In Snow, | 258 | Sonnet. From Heine, | 258 |
| Old and New, | 258 | |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 320 |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1807/In Snow

* IN SNOW.
* O English mother in the ruddy glow
* Hugging your baby closer when outside
* You see the silent, soft, and cruel snow
* Falling again, and think what ills betide
* Unshelter'd creatures, — your sad thoughts may go
* Where War and Winter now two spectral wolves,
* Hunt in the freezing vapor that involves
* Those Asian peaks of ice and gulfs below.
* Does this young soldier heed the snow that fills
* His mouth and open eyes? or mind, in truth,
* To-night, his mother's parting syllables?
* His coat is red — but what of that? Keep ruth
* For others; this is but an Afghan youth
* Shot by the stranger on his native hills.
* Fraser's Magazine.
* ["Most of the Afghan dead were fine well-built young fellows." — Special Correspondent of the Standard, December 10, 1878.]
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 4/Issue 34/Salt in Abyssinia

Originally appeared in the Travels in Abyssinia.
Salt in Abyssinia.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 57
### No. 723. — April 3, 1858.

Contents.
* New Books received this week
* Enlarged Series of The Living Age
* The Insanity of William Cowper, American Journal of Insanity
* Difficulties of Railway Engineering, Quarterly Review
* Which? or, Eddies round the Rectory - Part I., Titan
* The Mistress of St. John's, Ladies' Companion
* Dugald Stewart's Collected Works, Literary Gazette
* Poetical Works of William Collins, Athenæum
* Princesses in Captivity to Circassians, Spectator
* Drayson's Sporting Scenes among the Kaffirs, Athenæum
* The New-York Publishers to the Public
Poetry.
    Requiescat, Press
    The Winters, by Frances Browne
    Two hands upon the breast
Short Articles.:
    Scene of Gray's Elegy, Origin of the name Pin, Literature of American Aboriginal Languages, Death of a Scholar, A German Kitchen, Atchafalaya Currency, A Russian and an English Regiment
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 97
### No. 1256. — June 27, 1868.

Contents.
* Lord Brougham, Spectator
* Coffee Auctions of the Dutch Trading Company, Contemporary Review
* Occupations of a Retired Life - Part VII., Sunday Magazine
* Partial Deafness, Spectator
* The New Science — Atomechanics, Mining Journal
* "Ecce Homo:" Second Letter from a German Clergyman, Sunday Magazine
* Fredrika Bremer: Life, Letters, and Posthumous Works, edited by her Sister, Charlotte Bremer, Spectator
* A Study of Tennyson, Spectator
* Lucretius, by Alfred Tennyson, Macmillan’s Magazine
* The Psalms Chronologically Arranged: New Version, Spectator
* The Starring System in Literature, Saturday Review
* Mr. Dickens's Return, Saturday Review
* Poetesses — Elizabeth Barrett Browning — Christina Rossetti — Emily Bronte, Saturday Review
* Austria and Poland, Examiner
* The Laureate’s New Poem, Punch
Poetry.
    The Child's Confession
    A Doubter's Hymn, Spectator
    Echoes
    Roderick vich Murchison, Punch
    Home, Sweet Home! (The Medium), Punch
    The Fairy’s Rescue, by Annette Bishop, Public Opinion
    The City Pigeons, Chamber's Journal
    Greatness Tested by Little Things, The Layman's Breviary
Short Articles.
    Set your House in Order, Punch
    Death of Lord Brougham, Spectator
    Gems of Literature, Punch
    Baron Hausmann, Punch
    Anecdote of Dr. Hawks, Harper's Magazine
    Action of Putrid Material
    Lime and Lemon Juice for Ships, Standard
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 57/Issue 723/The Winters

We did not fear them once — the dull, gray mornings  No cheerless burden on our spirits laid; The long night-watches did not bring us warnings  That we were tenants of a house decayed; The early snows like dreams to us descended  The frost did fairy-work on pave and bough; Beauty, and power, and wonder have not ended —  How is it that we fear the winters now?
Their house-fires fall as bright on earth and chambers  Their northern starlight shines as coldly clear; The woods still keep their holly for December;  The world a welcome yet for the new year And far away in old remembered places  The snow-drop rises and the robin sings; The sun and moon look out with loving faces —  Why have our days forgot such goodly things?
Is it now that north winds finds us shaken  By tempests fiercer than its bitter blast, Which fair beliefs and friendships, too, have taken  Away like summer foliage as they passed, And made life leafless in its pleasant valleys,  Waning the light of promise from our day, Fell mists meet even in the inward palace —  A dimness not like theirs to pass away?
It was not thus when dreams of love and laurels  Gave sunshine to the winters of our youth, Before its hopes had fallen in fortune's quarrels,  Or time had bowed them with his heavy truth — Ere yet the twilights found us strange and lonely,  With shadows coming when the fire burns low, To tell of distant graves and losses only —  The past that cannot change and will not go.
Alas! dear friends, the winter is within us,  Hard is the ice that grows about the heart; For petty cares and vain regrets have won us  From life's true heritage and better part. Seasons, and skies rejoice, yea, worship rather;  But nations toil and tremble even as we Hoping for harvest they will never gather,  Fearing the winters which they may not see.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 66/Issue 842/Egyptian Monuments

M. Mariette, assistant keeper of the Louvre, the remarkable success of whose antiquarian researches in Egypt have obtained much attention in this country as well as in France, dated last year from the Serapeum, discovered by himself at Memphis, a letter to a friend, in which he details pleasantly the result of his clearings and excavations of the temples of Edfou, Karnac, and Abydos. In the temple of Karnac M. Mariette—according to a translation of his letter given in the Critic—
"Made some pleasing discoveries, one of which is a granite stelë, having engraved on it a long poem in honor of the conquests of Thothmosis III. On the newly cleared walls I found fragments of the famous numerical wall hitherto unknown, and in front of the great obelisk I discovered a small porch upon which are figured as many as two hundred and thirty Asiatic tribes conquered by Thothmosis III. The most interesting objects found during this clearing belong to the twelfth and thirteenth dynasties. At Abydos I commenced only very lately. It is a terrible piece of work. The excavations are carried on only at Memphis, Abydos, Thebes, and Elephantina. I shall soon commence some others. There has been nothing particular found at Elephantina, where the souvenirs of the sixth dynasty abound. My centre of operations is at Thebes, where, besides some other fine things, I found a splendid statue of Queen Ammeritis, and the tomb, hitherto inviolate, of Queen Aahhotep, of the eighteenth dynasty. In this last tomb I discovered some fifty fine jewels, all bearing the name of Amosis and other kings of the seventeenth dynasty. I believe this Queen Aahhotep to be the mother of Amosis, and wife of a certain king named Kames. Among the curiosities in this royal tomb was a barque worked in massive gold, with twelve rowers all in silver, and the whole mounted on a chariot of silver with four wheels. The pilot, the singer, and a third individual of whose functions I am ignorant, are wrought in gold. Much has been saidof the treasure of Ferlini, but I believe it to be exceeded by that of Gournah."
M. Mariette describes himself as "Director of the Historical Monuments of Egypt, with the permission of H.M. the emperor." and defines his official duty as being "to guard against any possible injury the ancient monuments, and at the same time to form a museum for his highness the viceroy."
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1804/The Gold of Hope

* THE GOLD OF HOPE.
* Bright shines the sun, but brighter after rain;
* The clouds that darken make the sky more clear;
* So rest is sweeter when it follows pain,
* And the sad parting makes our friends more dear.
* 'Tis well it should be thus: our Father knows
* The things that work together for our good;
* We draw a sweetness from our bitter woes —
* We would not have all sunshine if we could.
* The days with all their beauty and their light
* Come from the dark and into dark return;
* Day speaks of earth, but heaven shines through the night,
* Where in the blue a thousand star-fires burn.
* So runs the law, the law of recompense,
* That binds our life on earth and heaven in one;
* Faith cannot live when all is sight and sense,
* But faith can live and sing when these are gone.
* We grieve and murmur, for we can but see
* The single thread that flies in silence by;
* When if we only saw the things to be,
* Our lips would breathe a song and not a sigh.
* Wait then, my soul, and edge the darkening cloud
* With the bright gold that Hope can always lend;
* And if to-day thou art with sorrow bowed,
* Wait till to-morrow and thy grief shall end!
* And when we reach the limit of our days,
* Beyond the reach of shadows and of night,
* Then shall our every look and voice be praise
* To him who shines, our everlasting light.
* Sunday Magazine.Henry Burton.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1805

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XXV. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1805. — January 18, 1879. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXL. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | The Greatness of England. By Prof. Goldwin Smith, | Contemporary Review, | 131 |
| II. | The Bride's Pass. By Sarah Tytler, author of "What She Came Through," "Lady Bell," etc. Part III., | Advance Sheets, | 142 |
| III. | Holidays in Eastern France. Part IV., | Fraser's Magazine, | 150 |
| IV. | Sir Gibbie. By George MacDonald, author of "Malcolm," "The Marquis of Lossie," etc. Part IX., | Advance Sheets, | 165 |
| V. | The Phœnicians in Greece, | Contemporary Review, | 175 |
| VI. | A Worldlet Within the World, | Spectator, | 185 |
| VII. | Poor Creatures, | Saturday Review, | 188 |
| VIII. | The Death of the Princess Alice, | Spectator, | 190 |
POETRY. :
| Memory, | 130 | The Closing Year, | 130 |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 192 |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1805/Memory

* MEMORY.
* I.
* All down the river's stretch I float,
* While song-birds carol in the air;
* Sweet ripples swirl about my boat,
* And all the wakening world is fair.
* The world is fair: I should be glad
* When Nature showers her gifts on me,
* Ah me! my portion is the sad
* Sweet bitterness of memory;
* And all my world is in one face,
* One face upon the distant shore,
* That looks and longs for me, whose place
* Is with the live who live no more.
* For surely this is death in life,
* To know that I can never move
* The fates, and that no toil or strife
* Can ever win me her I love.
* I hear the loud cicalas sing
* Upon the river's grassy slope,
* And still their ceaseless chirrups ring
* Two weary words, "No hope — no hope."
* O fond white arms that loved to play
* About my neck and soothe my pain,
* Will there be nevermore a day
* For me to know your touch again?
* O soft low voice that loved to tell
* Sweet tales to my enraptured ears!
* O voice that answered mine so well,
* In laughter and in loving tears!
* O love, my lost, my only love,
* Who make the barren years so slow,
* I see you in the skies above,
* And in the whirling stream below,
* Where all the ripples sound and swell
* With all the words you spoke to me,
* Till life once more runs smooth and well,
* While I am fooled by memory.
* Come back, O love, to speak one word,
* One little word before I die,
* One of the many I have heard
* And always hear in memory.
* It cannot be. The visions wane
* And pale before reality;
* The world is cold and bare again —
* There is no joy in memory.
* Yet could I only this believe,
* That some day in the heaven they dream
* We two should meet, I'd cease to grieve,
* The heavy time would lightened seem.
* Nought see I but this wretched world,
* A shore whereon the fierce wind drives
* Weird wrecks upon the shingle hurled,
* The jetsam of divided lives.
* What hard and weary punishment
* The awful fates contrive for men:
* They will not let me give, content.
* All days of now for one of them!
* Ah no! Where'er I pass my years,
* That darken on the deathward slope,
* Those words will echo in mine ears,
* Those weary words, "No hope — no hope!"
* II.
* Still cradled on the waters clear
* The mirror of the dropping sun,
* I slowly float, and strangely dear
* Appear the days that now are done.
* The sunset breezes lightly kiss
* The treetops with their last low breath;
* And there is happiness in this,
* The happiness that comes with death.
* They tower in the waning light
* Those shadowy trees that stud the dell,
* And through the softly opening night
* Peals far away the evening bell.
* The birds have hushed their noise above,
* All through the day they sang their best;
* They interchange last notes of love,
* And sink with all the world to rest.
* A strange and sweetly solemn mirth
* Is waiting on the dying day;
* Peace holds secure upon the earth
* And in my weary heart her sway;
* As like a worn-out child I lie,
* To slumber rocked on Nature's breast,
* And the night-wind comes sighing by
* With faintly whispered words of rest.
* Temple Bar.W. H. Pollock.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1804/A Christmas Song

* A CHRISTMAS SONG.
* BY GENEVIEVE M. I. IRONS.
* In winter-time, when earth is drest
* In robes of snowy white,
* And peeping from their prickly nest
* Shine holly-berries bright;
* When the sky is grey, and the air is chill,
* And the frost-bound river is hushed and still,
* The Christmas bells ring out their mirth
* To greet the day of Jesus' birth.
* Hark! hark! they ring, "Good news for men!
* Let tears and sorrow cease,
* For Christmas comes with grace again,
* Good-will, and joy, and peace!"
* The angels to-day are busy on earth
* With praises from Heaven for the Saviour's birth,
* While glory in the highest rings
* To Jesus Christ, the king of kings.
* The night is dark, the earth is cold,
* Yet Jesus leaves his throne;
* To simple hearts the tale is told —
* "He cometh to his own!"
* But the world goes on, for its eyes are dim,
* And its selfish heart has no thought for him,
* Though Bethlehem is filled to-night
* With glory from the light of light.
* And heavenly joy shall flood each soul
* Which truly worships there,
* And learns that love whose sweet control
* Makes Christmas everywhere;
* And life's winter-time shall be bright for them,
* With faith in the story of Bethlehem,
* The Father's love, the Saviour's birth,
* Glory in heaven, and peace on earth.
* Sunday Magazine.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1804/Nuptura

* NUPTURA.
* Hush! let me hear of love no more
* Till grief has had her rightful day:
* Must I not count my treasure o'er
* Before I give it all away?
* Sweet home! from every field and tree
* Breathes all my past of joys and tears;
* The store of lifelong memory,
* The voiceless love of twenty years.
* My father's sigh, with smiles above,
* The tear my mother lets not fall,
* My brother's heart, so sore with love —
* Can I alone then heal them all?
* To love and heal, one little hour!
* To loose and lift each clinging root;
* To pour the scent of my last flower
* On those who shall not see my fruit:
* One little hour! my woman's eyes
* With childhood's dying tears are dim:
* Love calls me: I shall soon arise,
* And bid farewell, and follow him!
* Macmillan's Magazine.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1805/The Closing Year

* THE CLOSING YEAR.
* Faster than petals fall on windy days
* From ruined roses,
* Hope after hope falls fluttering, and decays,
* Ere the year closes.
* For little hopes, that open but to die,
* And little pleasures,
* Divide the long, sad year, that labors by,
* Into short measures.
* Yea, let them go! our day-lived hopes are not
* The life we cherish;
* Love lives, till disappointments are forgot,
* And sorrows perish.
* On withered boughs, where still the old leaf clings,
* New leaves come never;
* And in the heart, where hope hangs faded, springs
* No new endeavor.
* Spectator.F. W. B.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1804

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XXV. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1804. — January 11, 1879. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXL. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | The Jesuit Martyrs: Campion and Walpole, | Edinburgh Review, | 67 |
| II. | Sir Gibbie. By George MacDonald, author of "Malcolm," "The Marquis of Lossie," etc. Part VIII., | Advance Sheets, | 85 |
| III. | Dogma, Reason, and Morality. By W. H. Mallock, | Nineteenth Century, | 100 |
| IV. | The Bride's Pass. By Sarah Tytler, author of "What She Came Through," "Lady Bell," etc. Part II., | Advance Sheets, | 114 |
| V. | The Education of the Deaf, | Spectator, | 125 |
POETRY. :
| The Gold of Hope, | 66 | Nuptura, | 66 |
| A Christmas Song, | 66 | An Essay in Quantity, | 66 |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 128 |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1804/An Essay in Quantity

* AN ESSAY IN QUANTITY.
* Lo! the day, dawning with a rosy brightness,
* Leaps to each mountain over all the valleys,
* While the grey twilight, vanishing before it,
* Clings to the lowlands;
* Where the hoarse tumult of an angry torrent,
* Lonely in silence as of old eternal,
* Roars a rough nocturn, ever in the darkness
* Thundering onward, —
* Like a forlorn soul that a gloomy passion
* Urges, and dark mists gather all around him, —
* But the high mountains, if he gaze upon them,
* Glow with the sunlight.
* Spectator.T. A. Lacey.
# Letter to John Stoughton

    Westwood
    Beulah Hill
    Upper Norwood
    1887 June 11
Dear Friend, On Wednesday next will you meet me at Liverpool Street at 10:09 a.m. to go to Loughton? I am delighted with the prospect of seeing you, and having you all to myself all day. Would I am glad to see that your place is one from which Liverpool Street can be readily reached, but still it is a journey at an early hour for you. May we enjoy our Master's presence.
       Yours very heartily,
          C. H. Spurgeon