OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Signors of the Night

The criminal Lords of the Night courts are mentioned as early as the 12th century. Their name is derived from the initial responsibility of monitoring what was happening throughout the city during the night. In short, their powers were extended to include theft, murder, bigamy, criminal conspiracy, rape.... They gathered in a dining room of the Doge's Palace in the Chamber of Torment: interrogations and trials took place mostly at night or at dusk. Warning: template has been deprecated.
THE SIGNORS OF THE NIGHT
MAX PEMBERTON
"He uttered a low moan, which became a resounding shriek as he felt the shining steel cut his flesh."
SIGNORS OF THE NIGHT
The Story of Fra Giovanni, the Soldier-Monk
of Venice; and of Others in the
"Silent City"
BY
MAX PEMBERTON
AUTHOR OF "KRONSTADT," "THE GARDEN OF SWORDS," ETC. ETC.
"When Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles."
Byron.
LONDON
C. ARTHUR PEARSON LIMITED
HENRIETTA STREET W.C.
1899
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE PHANTOM ARMY
BEING THE STORY OF A MAN AND A MYSTERY Crown 8vo, Buckram, Price 6s.
QUEEN OF THE JESTERS
AND HER STRANGE ADVENTURES IN OLD PARIS
With Eight Full-page Illustrations by
H. Piffard Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price 3s. 6d.

### Contents

* Author's Foreword
* The Risen Dead
* A Sermon for Clowns
* A Miracle of Bells
* "The Wolf of Cismon"
* The Daughter of Venice
* Golden Ashes
* White Wings to the Raven
* The Haunted Gondola
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 1950, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 73 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
# Signors of the Night/Foreword
### AUTHOR'S FOREWORD

I would take this opportunity of saying that, in two instances at least, the central idea of these stories is to be found in the history of Venice in the more dramatic years of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Few of those who remember Mr. Horatio F. Brown's delightful Venetian Studies will fail to recognise the alchemist Marcantonio Bragadin in my sketch of the charlatan Zuane de Franza. It is to be doubted if there is, in the whole story of chicanery, a more remarkable figure than that of Bragadino, whose ultimate exposure was in a measure due to the powerful sermons preached against him by Frà Paolo Sarpi. It has been my hope in these sketches to portray in Frà Giovanni, the Capuchin monk, something of that connection of idea which permitted a priest to wield so great an influence in a Republic which by no means loved priests. Nor do I think that the measure of authority here permitted to Frà Giovanni would have been denied to the great friar who won religious liberty for the Venetians.
For the story "A Miracle of Bells," the Spanish Conspiracy is my authority. It is curious that a church figured so often in the narratives of such plottings as these. The student will remember that a document hidden in a faldstool of the church of the Frari betrayed the Giambattista Bragadin to the police.
Elsewhere, for knowledge of the zanni of Venice, I am indebted to the widely-known memoirs of Count Carlo Gozzi.
MAX PEMBERTON.
London,1899
# Scott v. United States

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Scott v. United States."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* Scott v. United States (79 U.S. 443)
* Scott v. United States (172 U.S. 343)
* Scott v. United States (374 U.S. 502)
See also United States v. Scott.
# Scott v. Paisley

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
271 U.S. 632
Scott v. Paisley
Argued: April 19 and 20, 1926. --- Decided: June 7, 1926
Messrs. Paul Donehoo and Hooper Alexander, both of Atlanta, Ga., for plaintiff in error.
Mr. Walter McElreath, of Atlanta, Ga., for defendants in error.
Mr. Justice SANFORD 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
# Scott v. Ross

* related portals: United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
a United States civil suit, brought against deprogrammer Rick Ross, two of his associates, and the Cult Awareness Network (CAN), for the violent abduction and failed deprogramming of Jason Scott, a member of a Pentecostalist church. CAN was a co-defendant because a CAN contact person had referred Scott's mother to Rick Ross. The nine-member jury unanimously held the defendants liable forconspirac] to deprive Scott of his civil rights and religious liberties. In addition, the jury held that Ross and his associates (but not CAN) "intentionally or recklessly acted in a way so outrageous in character and so extreme in degree as to go beyond all possible bounds of decency and to be regarded as atrocious and utterly intolerable in a civilized community." The case resulted in an award of $875,000 in compensatory damages and punitive damages in the amount of $1,000,000 against CAN, $2,500,000 against Ross, and $250,000 against each of Ross's two accomplices. CAN appealed the decision, but a three-judge panel of the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the award in April 1998, two of the three judges finding against CAN, with the third judge dissenting. In August 1998, the full 9th Circuit court voted against reconsidering the case. The case bankrupted the Cult Awareness Network and marked a watershed for new religious movements in North America.
* Court Documents
* Opinion of the Court
* Dissenting Opinion Schwarzer
* Wikipedia article
* 140 F.3d 1275
* JASON SCOTT, Plaintiff-Appellee
* v.
* RICK ROSS, aka Rickey Allen Ross; MARK WORKMAN; CHARLES SIMPSON, Defendants, and CULT AWARENESS NETWORK, a California Non-Profit Corp., Defendant-Appellant
* No. 96-35050
* United States Court of Appeals, Ninth Circuit.
* September 11, 1997, Argued, Submitted, Seattle, Washington
* April 8, 1998, Filed
Paul Lawrence and Ramona M. Emerson, Preston, Gates & Ellis, Seattle, Washington, for the defendant-appellant.
Eric M. Lieberman, Rabinowitz, Boudin, Standard, Krinsky & Lieberman, New York, New York, for the plaintiff-appellee.
David J. Bardin, Arent, Fox, Kintner, Plotkin & Kahn, Washington, D.C., for amici curiae American Family Foundation, HALT - an Organization of Americans for Legal Reform, Jews for Judaism, and Watchman Fellowship on Agency, Vicarious Liability and First Amendment Issues.
Before: Mary M. Schroeder and Robert R. Beezer, Circuit Judges, and William W Schwarzer, Senior District Judge. Opinion by Judge Beezer; Dissent by Judge Schwarzer.

## Footnotes

* ↑ The Honorable William W Schwarzer, Senior United States District Judge for the Northern District of California, sitting by designation.
# Scott v. Neely

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
140 U.S. 106
Scott v. Neely
[Statement of Case from pages 106-108 intentionally omitted]
Edward Mayers, for appellants.
W. V. Sullivan and F. A. Montgomery, for appellees.
Mr. Justice FIELD, after stating the facts as above, 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
# Songs of a Cowherd/Tea-Arbor

1905
Tea-Arbor
When by the hearth I place A potted plum tree, Steam from the boiling kettle Trails by its branches.
# Songs of a Cowherd/Spring Time

Spring Time
Tempted by the croaking frogs And the beautiful moonlight, I sought at the dead of night The shadows of a pagoda tree.
# Songs of a Cowherd/Summer Mountains

1899
Summer Mountains
When the summer comes, The fresh green of young leaves seems so cool The mountains cast off Their garments of mist.
# Songs of a Cowherd/The Peach Garden at Fujizuka

1902
The Peach Garden at Fujizuka
O peach blossoms! Does man come so rarely to see you? Without a boatman The ferry lies aslant.
“Ferry ahoy!” I call, And from behind the peach tree, A lad, emerging, Descends to the boat.
By the edge of the barley field The peach trees bloom; Under the flower-laden branches My ferry lands.
# Songs of a Cowherd/Waiting

Waiting
Since the early hours of morning, Girding up my dress, I, a husky man, have dusted the benches And swept the terrace To welcome you.
Now the day is nigh spent; The shadows of the trees lengthen in the garden; Within the tea-water boils in vain.
# Songs of a Cowherd/The Feast of Lanterns

The Feast of Lanterns
’Tis the evening The honored spirits of the dead Come to call, And all the length of the street, The lotus lanterns are lighted.
Just as the Welcome Fire for the dead Was lighted by the gate, Alas! the rain came down And put it out.
# Songs of a Cowherd/The New Year

The New Year
To a sickle and spade Hung under the newly-thatched eaves, I tied the festive straw strands And welcomed the New Year.
# Songs of a Cowherd/Thoughts Adrift

Thoughts Adrift
Looking up to the sky Where the wind sighs In the pagoda tree, I think of the age of the stars That know no age.
# Songs of a Cowherd/Spring Song

Spring Song 1908
On a small farm of reddish clay soil Away from men, I am alone. Nigh behind the house in a bamboo thicket, A grove of tall pines rises stately. The hearth smoke lingering by the eaves And the distant roars of waves to me are quieting. ’Tis the spring, mulberry trees marshalling new shoots.
Nightingales, white-eyes, and buntings Come and go, attaching themselves to men. Cows in the yard are suckling their young; The dog, worn out from play, lies curled; Raising sand and dust, hens prowl. Yonder on the moor, dotted with low growths, My two children gather water-cresses.
My love, nightmare of the fleeting world, I forget; My vain hope of a name is vanished. In the shed silkworms are turning in cocoons. “We shall keep close watch and be diligent,”
Whisper two sisters to their mother. There is a joy in the toil of living. Laying aside my pen, I, too, will pick mulberry leaves.
# Songs of a Cowherd/Stillness

Stillness
Heaven and earth Have sunk in deep sleep; And the night is far spent. Over the ocean’s expanse The moon is vermillion red.
# Skin Diseases of Children/Index

​Page:Skin Diseases of Children.djvu/199 ​Page:Skin Diseases of Children.djvu/200 ​Page:Skin Diseases of Children.djvu/201 ​Page:Skin Diseases of Children.djvu/202 ​Page:Skin Diseases of Children.djvu/203 ​Page:Skin Diseases of Children.djvu/204
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/The Deserted House

THE DESERTED HOUSE.
Gloom is upon thy lonely hearth, O silent house! once fill'd with mirth; Sorrow is in the breezy sound Of thy tall poplars whispering round.
The shadow of departed hours Hangs dim upon thine early flowers; Even in thy sunshine seems to brood Something more deep than solitude.
Fair art thou, fair to a stranger's gaze, Mine own sweet home of other days! My children's birth-place! yet for me, It is too much to look on thee.
Too much! for all about thee spread, I feel the memory of the dead, And almost linger for the feet That never more my step shall meet.
The looks, the smiles, all vanish'd now, Follow me where thy roses blow; The echoes of kind household-words Are with me 'midst thy singing birds.
Till my heart dies, it dies away In yearnings for what might not stay; For love which ne'er deceived my trust, For all which went with "dust to dust!"
What now is left me, but to raise From thee, lorn spot! my spirit's gaze, To lift, through tears, my straining eye Up to my Father's house on high?
Oh! many are the mansions there, But not in one hath grief a share! No haunting shade from things gone by, May there o'ersweep the unchanging sky.
And they are there, whose long-loved mien In earthly home no more is seen; Whose places, where they smiling sate, Are left unto us desolate.
We miss them when the board is spread; We miss them when the prayer is said; Upon our dreams their dying eyes In still and mournful fondness rise.
But they are where these longings vain Trouble no more the heart and brain;
The sadness of this aching love Dims not our Father's house above.
Ye are at rest, and I in tears, Ye dwellers of immortal spheres! Under the poplar boughs I stand, And mourn the broken household band.
But, by your life of lowly faith, And by your joyful hope in death, Guide me, till on some brighter shore, The sever'd wreath is bound once more!
Holy ye were, and good, and true! No change can cloud my thoughts of you; Guide me, like you to live and die, And reach my Father's house on high!
* ↑ In my Father's house there are many mansions. John, chap. xiv.
* ↑ From an ancient Hebrew dirge: "Mourn for the mourner, and not for the dead; For he is at rest, and we in tears!"
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/The Beings of the Mind

THE BEINGS OF THE MIND.
The beings of the mind are not of clay; Essentially immortal, they create And multiply in us a brighter ray, And more beloved existence; that which Fate Prohibits to dull life, in this our state Of mortal bondage. Byron.
Come to me with your triumphs and your woes,  Ye forms, to life by glorious poets brought! I sit alone with flowers, and vernal boughs,  In the deep shadow of a voiceless thought; 'Midst the glad music of the spring alone, And sorrowful for visions that are gone!
Come to me! make your thrilling whispers heard,  Ye, by those masters of the soul endow'd With life, and love, and many a burning word,  That bursts from grief, like lightning from a cloud, And smites the heart, till all its chords reply, As leaves make answer when the wind sweeps by.
Come to me! visit my dim haunt!—the sound  Of hidden springs is in the grass beneath; The stock-dove's note above; and all around,  The poesy that with the violet's breath Floats through the air, in rich and sudden streams, Mingling, like music, with the soul's deep dreams.
Friends, friends!—for such to my lone heart ye are—  Unchanging ones! from whose immortal eyes The glory melts not as a waning star,  And the sweet kindness never, never dies;
Bright children of the bard! o'er this green dell Pass once again, and light it with your spell!
Imogen! fair Fidele! meekly blending  In patient grief, "a smiling with a sigh;" And thou, Cordelia! faithful daughter, tending  That sire, an outcast to the bitter sky; Thou of the soft low voice!—thou art not gone! Still breathes for me its faint and flute-like tone.
And come to me!—sing me thy willow-strain,  Sweet Desdemona! with the sad surprise In thy beseeching glance, where still, though vain,  Undimm'd, unquenchable affection lies; Come, bowing thy young head to wrong and scorn, As a frail hyacinth, by showers o'erborne.
And thou, too, fair Ophelia! flowers are here,  That well might win thy footstep to the spot— Pale cowslips, meet for maiden's early bier,  And pansies for sad thoughts,—but needed not! Come with thy wreaths, and all the love and light In that wild eye still tremulously bright.
And Juliet, vision of the south! enshrining  All gifts that unto its rich heaven belong; The glow, the sweetness, in its rose combining,  The soul its nightingales pour forth in song! Thou, making death deep joy!—but couldst thou die? No!—thy young love hath immortality!
From earth's bright faces fades the light of morn,  From earth's glad voices drops the joyous tone;
But ye, the children of the soul, were born  Deathless, and for undying love alone; And, oh! ye beautiful! 'tis well, how well, In the soul's world, with you, where change is not, to dwell!
* ↑ Nobly he yokes A smiling with a sigh. Cymbeline.
* ↑ Here's pansies for you—that's for thoughts. Hamlet.
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/The Diver

THE DIVER.
They learn in suffering what they teach in song. Shelley.
Thou hast been where the rocks of coral grow,  Thou hast fought with eddying waves;— Thy cheek is pale, and thy heart beats low,  Thou searcher of ocean's caves!
Thou hast look'd on the gleaming wealth of old,  And wrecks where the brave have striven; The deep is a strong and a fearful hold,  But thou its bar hast riven!
A wild and weary life is thine;  A wasting task and lone, Though treasure-grots for thee may shine,  To all besides unknown!
A weary life! but a swift decay  Soon, soon shall set thee free; Thou'rt passing fast from thy toils away,  Thou wrestler with the sea!
In thy dim eye, on thy hollow cheek,  Well are the death-signs read— Go! for the pearl in its cavern seek,  Ere hope and power be fled!
And bright in beauty's coronal  That glistening gem shall be; A star to all in the festive hall—  But who will think on thee?
None!—as it gleams from the queen-like head,  Not one 'midst throngs will say, "A life hath been like a rain-drop shed,  For that pale quivering ray."
Woe for the wealth thus dearly bought!  —And are not those like thee, Who win for earth the gems of thought?  O wrestler with the sea!
Down to the gulfs of the soul they go,  Where the passion-fountains burn, Gathering the jewels far below  From many a buried urn:
Wringing from lava-veins the fire,  That o'er bright words is pour'd; Learning deep sounds, to make the lyre  A spirit in each chord.
But, oh! the price of bitter tears,  Paid for the lonely power That throws at last, o'er desert years,  A darkly-glorious dower!
Like flower-seeds, by the wild wind spread,  So radiant thoughts are strew'd; —The soul whence those high gifts are shed,  May faint in solitude!
And who will think, when the strain is sung,  Till a thousand hearts are stirr'd, What life-drops, from the minstrel wrung,  Have gush'd with every word?
None, none!—his treasures live like thine,  He strives and dies like thee; —Thou, that hast been to the pearl's dark shrine,  O wrestler with the sea!
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/The Exile's Dirge

THE EXILE'S DIRGE.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious Winter's rages, Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Cymbeline.
I attended a funeral where there were a number of the German settlers present. After I had performed such service as is usual on similar occasions, a most venerable-looking old man came forward, and asked me if I were willing that they should perform some of their peculiar rites. He opened a very ancient version of Luther's Hymns, and they all began to sing, in German, so loud that the woods echoed the strain. There was something affecting in the singing of these ancient people, carrying one of their brethren to his last home, and using the language and rites which they had brought with them over the sea from the Vaterland, a word which often occurred in this hymn. It was a long, slow, and mournful air, which they sung as they bore the body along; the words "mein Gott," "mein Bruder" and "Vaterland," died away in distant echoes amongst the woods. I shall long remember that funeral hymn—Flint's Recollections of the Valley of the Mississippi.
There went a dirge through the forest's gloom. —An exile was borne to a lonely tomb.
"Brother!" (so the chant was sung In the slumberer's native tongue,) "Friend and brother! not for thee Shall the sound of weeping be:— Long the Exile's woe hath lain On thy life a withering chain; Music from thine own blue streams, Wander'd through thy fever-dreams; Voices from thy country's vines, Met thee 'midst the alien pines, And thy true heart died away; And thy spirit would not stay."
So swell'd the chant; and the deep wind's moan Seem'd through the cedars to murmur—"Gone!"
"Brother! by the rolling Rhine, Stands the home that once was thine— Brother! now thy dwelling lies Where the Indian arrow flies!
He that blest thine infant head, Fills a distant greensward bed; She that heard thy lisping prayer, Slumbers low beside him there; They that earliest with thee play'd, Rest beneath their own oak shade, Far, far hence!—yet sea nor shore Haply, brother! part ye more; God hath call'd thee to that band In the immortal Fatherland!"
"The Fatherland!"—with that sweet word A burst of tears 'midst the strain was heard.
"Brother! were we there with thee Rich would many a meeting be! Many a broken garland bound, Many a mourn'd and lost one found! But our task is still to bear, Still to breathe in changeful air;
Loved and bright things to resign, As even now this dust of thine; Yet to hope!—to hope in Heaven, Though flowers fall, and ties be riven— Yet to pray! and wait the hand Beckoning to the Fatherland!"
And the requiem died in the forest's gloom;— They had reach'd the Exile's lonely tomb.
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/The Better Land

THE BETTER LAND.
"I hear thee speak of the better land, Thou callest its children a happy band; Mother! oh where is that radiant shore? Shall we not seek it, and weep no more? Is it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs?" —"Not there, not there, my child!"
"Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies? Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze And strange, bright birds, on their starry wings, Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?" —"Not there, not there, my child!"
"Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold?— Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand?— Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?" —"Not there, not there, my child!
"Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy! Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy; Dreams cannot picture a world so fair—
Sorrow and death may not enter there; Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom, For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb, —It is there, it is there, my child!"