OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Letter to Mary Boatman

From Heritage Auctions
Mrs. Rex Boatman 6/2/1967 543 14th St Santa Monica
Dear Mary
Finally got to the ranch and found your letter. I was happy to learn my last letter came over the hill to the rescue in the nick of time.
The poll this time was most interesting, particularly on “Withholding.” This is the one area I feel it’s necessary to hold out even if the poll is against me. Withholding may make it easier to pretend you aren’t being taxed but it’s also easier for govt. to raise taxes without getting a protest from the people.
I’ll check out whether there is anything a Gov. can do about appointments to the Air Force Acad. If not I’ll contact Corp. Al Bell and refer this to him.
* Again thanks & Best Regards
* Ronald
This work is the work of a State of California employee, taken or made during the course of that person's official duties, and is consequently in the public domain due to the California Public Records Act.
This work is also in the public domain in the U.S. because it is an edict of a government, local or foreign. See § 313.6(C)(2) of the Compendium II: Copyright Office Practices. Such documents include "legislative enactments, judicial decisions, administrative rulings, public ordinances, or similar types of official legal materials" as well as "any translation prepared by a government employee acting within the course of his or her official duties."
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 130/Issue 1678/Miscellany

​Many people would be amazed at the notion of a "forest" without trees; but those who have either studied the old forest laws or have mastered the geography of the New Forest on the spot know that at all events there may be large parts of a forest wholly treeless. "Silvam habet in foresta" is a Domesday phrase, showing that, though there were woods within the forest, yet the forest itself was not all wood. Still one is a little startled at finding any one bold enough to deny that a forest could contain any trees at all. We find such a daring person in a coachman spoken of in Mr. Frank Buckland's "Log-book of a Fisherman and Zoologist" "At one place the tourist asked 'what they called yon hills.' 'Eh, but that's just a deer-forest,' says the coachman. 'Deer-forest,' said Mr. Tourist, 'but I see no trees.' 'Trees,' said coachee, 'but, man, who ever heard of trees in a forest?'" Mr. Buckland, with rather curious logic, adds, "In a true etymological sense I believe the coachman's definition of a 'forest' was right, for I find the following definition in a dictionary: 'Forest, in geography, a huge wood; or a large extent of ground covered with trees.'" Then the dictionary adds some of the usual derivations, among which the Latin foreſta and the German frost may be safely corrected into foresta and forst. The New Forest and the Domesday record thereof, though they hardly bear out the coachman's doctrine that there can be no trees in a forest, quite upset the tourist's doctrine that there can be no forest without them. According to the most likely etymology, foresta is from foris, foras, an outside place, outside many things, especially outside the ordinary law. There was some one who could not see the wood for the trees. To be unable to see the forest for the wood is a very likely case indeed. In Mr. Buckland's story the wood was not there, so the coachman was able to see the forest. But it is certain that the forest might have been there, though there had been a reasonable amount of wood to hide it from the coachman and to suggest it to the tourist.
Pall Mall Gazette.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 130/Issue 1678/Utinam

* UTINAM.
* Oh, that we loved thee purely!
* Loved thee, our God, our all;
* With a love that is large and joyous,
* Not love that is cramped and small!
* Oh, that the best affections
* Of hearts that are warm and true,
* Were lavished in richest treasure
* Where only such wealth is due!
* Oh, that our souls were gardens
* Of flowers most sweet and rare,
* All watered with tears of penance,
* And nourished with faithful prayer!
* Oh, that our wills so feeble
* Grew strong with the strength of love,
* Till they broke earth's fetters, and changed them
* For links that are forged above!
* Oh, that the pride which spurs us
* To things unworthy and base
* Would soar on a grander pinion,
* And strive in a nobler race!
* Oh, that our sensitive spirits,
* That shrink from the shadow of shame,
* Were callous to pain that is selfish,
* And keen for their Master's fame!
* Oh, that the grief that moves us,
* Were grief for God's love reviled;
* For wounds that the heart of a father
* Has borne from the hand of a child!
* Oh, that our poor complainings
* Were changed into grateful lays;
* That the sighs of a heart in sadness
* Were fragrant with perfume of praise!
* Lord help our earnest desires,
* And give them a deeper root;
* Let them grow into flower and blossom,
* And ripen to glorious fruit!
* Lady C. Petre.
* The Month.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 130/Issue 1678

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XV. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1678. — April 8, 1876. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXX. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | Turkey, | Contemporary Review, | 323 |
| II. | What She Came Through. By Sarah Tytler, author of "Lady Bell," etc., Part XI., | Good Words, | 337 |
| III. | In a Studio. By W. W. Story. Part VIII., | Blackwood's Magazine, | 346 |
| IV. | Carita. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of "Chronicles of Carlingford," "Zaidee," etc., Part IV., | Cornhill Magazine, | 355 |
| V. | The Last of the Grand School of Connoisseurs, | Temple Bar, | 361 |
| VI. | Dull Sermons, | Macmillan's Magazine, | 373 |
| VII. | Sick-Nursing, an Employment for Educated Women, | Chambers' Journal, | 377 |
| VIII. | Leeches, | Chambers' Journal, | 379 |
| IX. | Work for Gentlewomen, | Victoria Magazine, | 381 |
| X. | A Perfect Lawn, | Gardener's Magazine, | 382 |
POETRY. :
| Utinam, | 322 | Milkweed, | 322 |
| A Lullaby, | 322 | The House Beautiful, | 382 |
| Rosenlied, | 322 | | |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 384 |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 130/Issue 1678/A Lullaby

* A LULLABY.
* Hush! hush! The night draws on;
* The sun has long since set;
* And the fast-closing flowers
* With heavy dews are wet.
* Shut close thine eyes;
* Twilight is darkening the skies.
* Hush! hush! All sounds are still;
* The birds are gone to rest;
* The mother-bird keeps warm
* Her young within the nest.
* Shut close thine eyes,
* For the last songster homeward flies.
* Hush! hush! The moonbeams fall
* Upon the summer leas;
* The night-wind murmurs soft
* Among the dusky trees.
* Shut close thine eyes,
* For the last streak of daylight dies.
* Hush! hush! The day is done.
* Lie down, my child, and sleep;
* The silver stars above
* For thee a watch will keep.
* Shut close thine eyes;
* Sweet peace upon thy pillow lies.
* Hush! hush! And happy dreams
* All through the silent night.
* Fear nothing; slumber on
* Until the morning bright.
* Shut close thine eyes,
* For angels sing thy lullabies.
* Chambers' Journal.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 130/Issue 1678/Rosenlied

* ROSENLIED.
* BY ALICE WILLIAMS.
* The nightingale sang to the rose
* Through the livelong night,
* Till her hue from a ruby red
* Turned wan and white.
* All night it rose and fell —
* That silvery strain,
* And the heart of the red rose throbbed
* With divinest pain;
* "O Love, O Love!" it rang,
* "I love but thee.
* Thou art the queen of all flowers," he sang,
* "And queen of me!
* O Love, my Love!" he said.
* — Before the dawn,
* The rose on its stalk hung dead,
* The bird was gone.
* Transcript.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 130/Issue 1678/Milkweed

* MILKWEED.
* BY "H. H.".
* O patient creature with a peasant face,
* Burnt by the summer sun, begrimed with stains,
* And standing humbly in the dingy lanes!
* There seems a mystery in thy work and place,
* Which crowns thee with significance and grace;
* Whose is the milk that fills thy faithful veins?
* What royal nursling comes at night and drains
* Unscorned the food of the plebeian race?
* By day I mark no living thing which rests
* On thee, save butterflies of gold and brown,
* Who turn from flowers that are more fair, more sweet,
* And, crowding eagerly, sink fluttering down,
* And hang, like jewels flashing in the heat,
* Upon thy splendid rounded purple breasts.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 130/Issue 1679

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XV. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1679. — August 12, 1876. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXX. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | Adam Smith as a Person, | Fortnightly Review, | 387 |
| II. | What She Came Through. By Sarah Tytler, author of "Lady Bell," etc. Part XII., | Good Words, | 402 |
| III. | In a Studio. By W. W. Story. Part IX., | Blackwood's Magazine, | 411 |
| IV. | Lady Adelaide. A Study, | Blackwood's Magazine, | 418 |
| V. | Autobiography of a Vegetarian. A True Narrative of a Successful Career. Reported by C. O. Groom Napier, of Merchiston, F.G.S., | Fraser's Magazine, | 427 |
| VI. | Modern Warfare. By John Ruskin, | Fraser's Magazine, | 434 |
| VII. | A Lady's Visit to the Herzegovinian Insurgents, | Cornhill Magazine, | 436 |
| VIII. | Lightning-Prints, | Chambers' Journal, | 445 |
POETRY. :
| Saints, | 386 | The Song-Bird, | 386 |
| Dreamland, | 386 | | |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 448 |
# Life in India/Land Ho!

Land Ho!
“Have a man aloft to look out for land," cries the captain. For more than eighteen weeks had we been at sea, but, by the mysterious agency of a timepiece and sextant, we knew that land was just before us. The order was gladly obeyed; and soon, “Land ho!" comes from the masthead, and “Land ho! land ho!" resounds through the ship. “Where away?” cries the captain.
“On the lee bow," is the reply.
Madras Catamaran. p.51.
​delight, we saw trees rising upon the distant horizon. Every moment brought new excitements. Now a native vessel is bearing down upon us with its coarse black sail surmounting its primitive hull; the vessel looking as heathenish as its crew. Soon the cry of “boats” is raised; they are the catamarans of the Coromandel coast; one is just before us. It is manned by three Hindus, who stand or kneel, and ply their paddles now on this side, now on that, with great rapidity and skill. Their barque is composed of five untrimmed logs lashed together, (catamaran means “tied trees,”) and is sunk to the level of the water by their weight, so that at a little distance, you might imagine the boatmen to be walking on the sea. No matter how high the waves, when all other boats are worthless, the fisherman fearlessly launches his catamaran, and ventures out to sea.
Our visitors (for they boarded us to sell us fish) were dressed in a strip of cotton cloth about their loins, and a peaked and brimless hat of palm-leaf; one of them was more fully dressed, having on a woollen jacket, procured from some ship. As they clambered up the ship's side, almost naked, with their black bodies glistening in the sun, and jabbering in ​an unknown tongue, with squeaking voices and eager gestures, they seemed to us more like monkeys than men. Yet we remembered that they had souls as precious as our own, and prayed for strength to labour in faith for India's swarming millions.
As we passed with a light breeze up the coast, new scenes constantly broke upon our gaze, and objects were more clearly discerned as we drew nearer to the land. By afternoon we were abreast of the Seven Pagodas of Malaveram—ancient temples standing upon the shore, and one of them on a rock washed by the sea. A little later, Mount St. Thomé, which is but eight miles south of Madras, came in sight, with its shining-white Roman Catholic Church, the reputed burial-place of the apostle Thomas. At sunset the Madras light shone bright before us. Soon the masts of ships lying in the roadstead could be dimly seen in the darkness, and at half-past eight o'clock our anchor was dropped, and our voyage of one hundred and thirty-one days was at an end.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 135/Issue 1738

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XX. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1738. — October 6, 1877. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXXV. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | The Scientific Movement and Literature, | Contempory Review, | 3 |
| II. | The Princess Paolini, | Cornhill Magazine, | 15 |
| III. | Life and Times of Thomas Becket. By James Anthony Froude. Part IV., | Nineteenth Century, | 32 |
| IV. | Green Pastures and Piccadilly. By William Black. Part XXXI., | Harper's Bazar, | 39 |
| V. | A Study of Lower Life, | Cornhill Magazine, | 43 |
| VI. | German Society Forty Years Since, | Macmillan's Magazine, | 53 |
| VII. | The Poetry of September, | Cornhill Magazine, | 58 |
| VIII. | Quiet People, | Saturday Review, | 62 |
POETRY. :
| The Old Fish-Pond, | 2 | My Sweetheart, | 2 |
| The Smile and the Sigh, | 2 | A Conceit, | 2 |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 135/Issue 1738/The Smile and the Sigh

* THE SMILE AND THE SIGH.
* A lovely smile, which smiled in sadness,
* Once hailed upon the passing breeze
* A new-born sigh, which sighed in gladness
* To give a restless mortal ease.
* The smile and sigh soon formed a union —
* A union everlasting, blest —
* Whereby, in brotherly communion,
* Each worked to give the other rest.
* Thus, mutually their toils relieving,
* They lived in peaceful light and shade;
* No petty jealousies conceiving,
* Of nought, not even death, afraid.
* And when, with friendship still unbroken,
* Fate caused them for a time to part,
* Each of the other kept a token,
* To prove the two were one at heart.
* For, smiling, the sigh to Heaven was carried
* On angels' golden wings one day,
* While, sighing, the smile on earth still tarried,
* And lent its charm to lifeless clay.
* Till then, this world was often dreary,
* But since then (so the legend saith),
* Death's sigh gives life unto the weary,
* Life's smile itself illumines death.
* Macmillan’s Magazine.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 134/Issue 1737/To Hermione

* TO HERMIONE.
* What shall I liken unto thee?
* A lily bright,
* Whose virgin purity and grace
* Fulfils the soul, as doth thy face,
* With all delight.
* What shall I liken unto thee?
* A blushing rose,
* Which, redolent of fragrance rare,
* Half opened to the summer air,
* All sweetness grows.
* What shall I liken unto thee?
* Some glorious star,
* Which, hung aloft at eventide,
* Sheds its mild radiance every side,
* Both near and far.
* No! such comparison is vain.
* For these all three,
* Lily, and star,- and rose so fair,
* In radiance, grace, and sweetness rare
* Must yield to thee.
* Macmillan's Magazine.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 135/Issue 1738/A Conceit

* A CONCEIT.
* O, sweet and true, I hold your little hand,
* And gaze down into eyes so bright and clear,
* They seem to hold the summer's radiance, grand
* With all the golden promise of the year.
* I see in them the rest that wnnter gave,
* And bud and blossom of the glorious spring,
* The shim'ring light where summer cornfields wave,
* And autumn’s stores that will such gladness bring.
* How can I see all these, you ask? Ah, sweet,
* Love holds for us all life can give to prize;
* It makes its glory rounded and complete,
* And love for me I see, dear, in your eyes.
* Thomas S. Collier
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 135/Issue 1738/My Sweetheart

* MY SWEETHEART.
* Do you know my sweetheart, sir?
* She has fled and gone away.
* I’ve lost my love; pray tell to me
* Have you seen her pass to-day?
* Dewy bluebells are her eyes;
* Golden corn her waving hair;
* Her cheeks are of the sweet blush-roses:
* Have you seen this maiden fair?
* White lilies are her neck, sir;
* And her breath the eglantine;
* Her rosy lips the red carnations:
* Such is she, this maiden mine.
* The light wind is her laughter;
* The murmuring brooks her song;
* Her tears, so full of tender pity,
* In the clouds are borne along.
* The sunbeams are her smiles;
* The leaves her footsteps light;
* To kiss each coy flower into life
* Is my true love’s delight.
* I will tell ye who she is,
* And how all things become her.
* Bend down, that I may whisper,
* My sweetheart’s name is — "Summer."
* Chambers' Journal.T. P.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 135/Issue 1738/The Old Fish-Pond

* THE OLD FISH-POND.
* Green growths of mosses drip and bead
* Around the granite brink;
* And 'twixt the isles of water-weed
* The wood-birds dip and drink;
* Slow efts about the edges sleep;
* Swift-darting water-flies
* Shoot on the surface; down the deep
* Dark fishes gloom and rise.
* Who knows what lurks beneath the tide?
* Who knows what tale? Belike
* Those "antres vast" and shadows hide
* Some patriarchal pike —
* Some tough old tyrant, wrinkled-jawed,
* For whom the sky, the earth,
* Have but for aim to look on awed,
* And watch him wax in girth —
* Hard monarch there, by right of might,
* An ageless autocrat,
* Whose "good old rule" is "Appetite,
* And subjects fresh and fat;"
* While they — poor things —in wan despair
* Still hope for years in him,
* And, dying, hand from heir to heir
* The day undawned and dim,
* When the pond’s terror too must go;
* Or, creeping in by stealth,
* A bolder race, at one fell blow,
* Shall found a commonwealth.
* Who knows? Meanwhile the mosses bead
* Around the granite brink,
* And 'twixt the isles of water-weed
* The wood-birds dip and drink.
* Good Words.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 135/Issue 1739

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, VolumeXX. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1739. — October 13, 1877. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXXV. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | The Colors of Animals and Plants, | Macmillan's Magazine, | 67 |
| II. | Doris Barugh. A Yorkshire Story. By the author of "Patty," | Good Words, | 87 |
| III. | Samuel Warren, | Blackwood's Magazine, | 104 |
| IV. | French Chateaux of the Renaissance (1460-1547). By Mrs. Mark Pattison, | Contemporary Review, | 111 |
| V. | Green Pastures and Piccadilly. By William Black. Part XXXII., | Harper's Bazar, | 122 |
| VI. | Interesting People, | Saturday Review, | 125 |
| VII. | The Chemical Composition of the Flesh of the Halibut, | American Journal of Science, | 128 |
POETRY. :
| In Memoriam, | 66 | September, | 66 |
# Journal of Discourses/Volume 7/Possession of the Spirit, &c

Remarks by President BRIGHAM YOUNG, delivered in the Tabernacle, Great Salt Lake City, Oct. 6, 1859. REPORTED BY G. D. WATT. (Online document scan of Journal of Discourses, Volume 7)
page 271 Brethren and sisters, I rejoice exceedingly for the manifestation of the Spirit of God I have witnessed here to-day. We have heard good testimonies and good counsel, and the Spirit of the Lord is upon the people; and I trust that I shall see an increase of this Spirit, which I have felt in a signal manner to-day, and which I also feel day by day.
The world could not hire me to be a "Mormon," unless I enjoyed the spirit of my religion. I need that spirit in my business, as well as in my worship; and I surely would need it, if I had to go to the kanyons and drive cattle: I would need a double portion of it. Whatever we do should be in accordance with the mind of the Holy Spirit. We are not at all under the necessity of falling into the mistake that the Christian world falls into. They think, when they are handling or dealing in the things of this world, that those things have nothing to do with their religion. Our religion takes within its wide embrace not only things of heaven, but also things of earth. It circumscribes all art, science, and literature pertaining to heaven, earth, and hell. Is there any good? It belongs to you and me. Is their virtue? It is ours. Is there truth? It is ours. Is there knowledge? It is for us.
All eternity is before us. Let us deal with ourselves like men and women of God. Let us deal with one another like intelligent beings. Our religion drinks up all truth. and the Lord Almighty will gather unto Zion all the intelligence and wisdom that has ever been exhibited among men.
When I see men craving for and lusting after the things of this world, it looks very childish to me. These things belong to the Lord, and we are his. The gold and the silver, the fine flour, the wine and the oil, and all the treasures of the earth are his, and he disposes of them as he will. When we are prepared, we shall have gold sufficient to pave the streets, and we will tread it under our feet. Shame on men and women, professing to be Saints, who worship and love the perishing things of earth. Love God and his work, and all is ours in time and in eternity.
May the Lord help us so to do! Amen.
# Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth/Volume 2/Letter 70

To MRS. EDGEWORTH.
BLOOMFIELD, Jan. 19, 1829.
An immense concourse of people, cavalcade and carriages innumerable, passed by here to-day. We saw it, and you will see it all in the newspapers. Banners with Constitutional Agitation printed in black, Mobility and Nobility in black, crape hatbands, etc. Lord Anglesea's two little sons riding between two officers, in the midst of the hurricane mob, struck me most. One of the boys, a little midge, seemed to stick on the horse by accident, or by mere dint of fearlessness: the officer put his arm round him once, and set him up, the boy's head looking another way, and the horse keeping on his way, through such noise, and struggling, and waves multitudinous of mob.
There is an entertaining article in the Quarterly Review on The Subaltern. I do not like that on Madame de Genlis—coarse, and over-doing the object by prejudice and virulence. The review of Scott's Prefaces is ungrounded and confused—how different from his own writing! But there is an article worth all the rest put together, on Scientific Institutions, written in such a mild, really philosophical spirit, such a pure, GREAT MAN'S desire to do good; I cannot but wish and hope it might prove to be Captain Beaufort's. If you have not read it, never rest till you do.
# Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth/Volume 2/Letter 71

To CAPTAIN BASIL HALL.
EDGEWORTHSTOWN, March 12, 1829.
... If I could, as you say, flatter myself that Sir Walter Scott was in any degree influenced to write and publish his novels from seeing my sketches of Irish character, I should indeed triumph in the "thought of having been the proximate cause of such happiness to millions."
In what admirable taste Sir Walter Scott's introduction is written! No man ever contrived to speak so delightfully of himself, so as to gratify public curiosity, and yet to avoid all appearance of egotism,—to let the public into his mind, into all that is most interesting and most useful to posterity to know of his history, and yet to avoid all improper, all impertinent, all superfluous disclosures.
Children's questions are often simply sublime: the question your three-years-old asked was of these—"Who sanded the seashore?"

## Footnotes

* ↑ To the new edition of Waverley.
# Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth/Volume 2/Letter 72

To MISS RUXTON.
EDGEWORTHSTOWN, May 29, 1829.
I cannot forbear writing specially to you, as I know you will feel so much about Captain Beaufort's appointment to the Hydrographership; I wish poor William had been permitted the pleasure of hearing of it. It would have given him pleasure even on his dying bed, noble, generous creature as he was; he would have rejoiced for his friend, and have felt that merit is sometimes rewarded in this world. This appointment is, in every respect, all that Captain Beaufort wished for himself, and all that his friends can desire for him. As one of the first people in the Admiralty said, "Beaufort is the only man in England fit for the place."
Very touching letters have come to us from people whom we scarcely knew, whom William had attached so much; and many whom he had employed speak of him as the kindest of masters, and as a benefactor whose memory will be ever revered.

## Footnotes

* ↑ William Edgeworth had died of consumption on 7th May after a two months' illness.