OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Montgomery, Major John Alexander

​MONTGOMERY, Major John Alexander, D.L., J.P., Co. Antrim (High Sheriff 1910); late Major 17th Batt. Royal Irish Rifles; formerly Major 4th Batt.; eldest son of late Capt. Robert James Montgomery, D.L., J.P., late 5th Dragoon Guards, of Benvarden and Potters Walls, Co. Antrim; b. 1866; m. 1900, Elizabeth Ferguson, dau. of late Rev. Canon Edwd. Newland, M.A., B.D. Res.: Benvarden, Dervook, Co. Antrim; Potters Walls, Antrim.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Mooney, Sir John Joseph

​MOONEY, Sir John Joseph, K.B.E. (1920), B.A. (T.C.D.); Barrister King's Inn, 1895; Middle Temple. 1900; M.P. for South Co. Dublin, 1900-06; for Newry, 1906-18; Member of Advisory Committee on Repatriation and Internment of Aliens; J.P. for Co. Dublin; son of late J. G Mooney, Dublin: b. 1874; m. 1912. Ethel, dau. of late Angus MacMillan, M D., of Hull. Res.: 11 Allen House, Allen Street, Kensington, London, W.8.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Montgomery, Major-General Robert Arthur

​MONTGOMERY, Major-General Robert Arthur, C.V.O. (1905). C.B. (1902); Major-Gen. R.A. (ret.); J P. for Shropshire; Dept. Director- General of Ordnance, 1897-1902; Commander of Coast Defences, Portsmouth, 1903-05: Comd. Transvaal Dist. 1906-08; Vice-President Ordnance Board, 1908-10; Comd. 22nd Div., 1914; Director (temp.) of Recruiting 1915; son of late Hugh Montgomery, D.L., J.P., of Grey Abbey, Co. Down; b. 1848; m. 1881, Maria Maud, dau. of R Gosling, of Ecclesfield, Middlx. Res. Pentre-Pant Hall, Oswestry, Salop.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Moore, Col. George Abraham

​MOORE, Col. George Abraham, C.M.G. (1916), D.S.O. (1918), B.A., M.D. (T.C.D.), Col. A.M.S. from 1917; served on N.W. Frontier of India. 1897-8; in S. African War, 1899-1902; European War, 1914-18, as Deputy Director of Medical Services of a corps; fourth son of late William Moore, M.D., J.P., of Moore Lodge, Kilrea, Co. Antrim; b. 1869: m. 1899, Helena, dau. of late Dep. Surg.-Gen. George Whitla, A.M.S. C/o Messrs. Holt and Co., 3 Whitehall Place, S.W.1.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Moore, Col. Joseph Scott

​MOORE, Col. Joseph Scott, D.L., J.P., Co. Wicklow; Col. A.S.C. from 1912; eldest surviving son of late Joseph Fletcher Moore, D.L., J.P.. of Manor Kilbride, Co. Wicklow; b. 1860; m. 1902, Violet, only dau. of late Chas. Wheler Wheler of Ledston Hall, Y'orks. Army and Navy Club. Res.: Manor Kilbride, Co. Wicklow (via Dublin).
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Moore, Alfred S.

​MOORE, Alfred S., Correspondent and Contributor to "Times," "Overseas Daily Mail," "Economist," "Times Trade Supplement," "Financier," "World's Work," "Chambers' Journal," "Forum" (U.S.A.), etc., etc. Educ.: Royal Acad. Inst., and Queen's University Belfast. Intended for medicine but switched into journalism. Travelled in Central America and Australia; Editor-owner of "Nomad's Weekly" (1895-1914), also of "The Investor" (1901-14). University Exhibitioner in Economics. Specialist in Textiles (linen; with Irish Industries and economics. Served in War (1914-17) abroad. Pubns.: Straggler from Saturn, 1908; Belfast To-day, 1912; Linen from Field to Factory (Pitman), 1913; Linen (Constables), 1922. Recn.: Hill Rambles Res.: Archdale, Castle Avenue, Donegall Park, Belfast.
# The year's at the spring/Anderson, J. Redwood

The Bridge
HERE, with one leap, The bridge that spans the cutting; on its back The load Of the main-road, And under it the railway-track.
Into the plains they sweep, Into the solitary plains asleep, The flowing lines, the parallel lines of steel— Fringed with their narrow grass, Into the plains they pass, The flowing lines, like arms of mute appeal.
A cry Prolonged across the earth—a call To the remote horizons and the sky; The whole east rushes down them with its light, And the whole west receives them, with its pall Of stars and night— The flowing lines, the parallel lines of steel.
​And with the fall Of darkness, see! the red, Bright anger of the signal, where it flares Like a huge eye that stares On some hid danger in the dark ahead. A twang of wire—unseen The signal drops; and now, instead Of a red eye, a green.
Out of the silence grows An iron thunder—grows, and roars, and sweeps, Menacing! The plain Suddenly leaps, Startled, from its repose— Alert and listening. Now, from the gloom Of the soft distance, loom Three lights and, over them, a brush Of tawny flame and flying spark— Three pointed lights that rush, Monstrous, upon the cringing dark.
And nearer, nearer rolls the sound, Louder the throb and roar of wheels, The shout of speed, the shriek of steam; The sloping bank, Cut into flashing squares, gives back the clank ​And grind of metal, while the ground Shudders and the bridge reels— As, with a scream, The train, A rage of smoke, a laugh of fire, A lighted anguish of desire, A dream Of gold and iron, of sound and flight, Tumultuous roars across the night.
The train roars past—and, with a cry, Drowned in a flying howl of wind, Half-stifled in the smoke and blind, The plain, Shaken, exultant, unconfined, Rises, flows on, and follows, and sweeps by, Shrieking, to lose itself in distance and the sky.
J. REDWOOD ANDERSON
# The year's at the spring/Brady, E. J

A Ballad of the Captains
WHERE are now the Captains Of the narrow ships of old Who with valiant souls went seeking For the Fabled Fleece of Gold; In the clouded Dusk of Ages, In the Dawn of History, When the ringing songs of Homer First re-echoed o'er the Sea?
Oh, the Captains lie a-sleeping Where great iron hulls are sweeping Out of Suez in their pride; And they hear not, and they heed not, And they know not, and they need not In their deep graves far and wide.
Where are now the Captains Who went blindly through the Strait, With a tribute to Poseidon, A libation poured to Fate? ​They were heroes giant-hearted, That with Terrors, told and sung, Like blindfolded lions grappled, When the World was strange and young.
Oh, the Captains brave and daring, With their grim old crews are faring Where our guiding beacons gleam; And the homeward liners o'er them— All the charted seas before them— Shall not wake them as they dream.
Where are now the Captains From bold Nelson back to Drake, Who came drumming up the Channel, Haling prizes in their wake? Where are England's fighting Captains Who, with battle-flags unfurled, Went a-rieving all the rievers O'er the waves of all the world?
Oh, these Captains, all confiding In the strong right hand, are biding In the margins, on the Main; They are shining bright in story, They are sleeping deep in glory, On the silken lap of Fame.
​Where are now the Captains Who regarded not the tears Of the captured Christian maidens Carried, weeping, to Algiers? Yes, the swarthy Moorish Captains, Storming wildly 'cross the Bay, With a dead hidalgo's daughter As a dower for the Dey?
Oh, those cruel Captains never Shall sweet lovers more dissever, On their forays as they roll; Or the mad Dons curse them vainly, As their baffled ships, ungainly, Heel them, jeering, to the Mole.
Where are now the Captains Of those racing, roaring days, Who of knowledge and of courage, Drove the clippers on their ways— To the furthest ounce of pressure, To the latest stitch of sail, 'Carried on' before the tempest Till the waters lapped the rail?
​Oh, the merry, manly skippers Of the traders and the clippers, They are sleeping East and West, And the brave blue seas shall hold them, And the oceans five enfold them In the havens where they rest.
Where are now the Captains Of the gallant days agone? They are biding in their places, And the Great Deep bears no traces Of their good ships passed and gone. They are biding in their places, Where the light of God's own grace is, And the Great Deep thunders on.
Yea, with never port to steer for, And with never storm to fear for, They are waiting wan and white, And they hear no more the calling Of the watches, or the falling Of the sea rain in the night.
E. J. BRADY
# The year's at the spring/Abbott, H. H

Black and White
I MET a man along the road To Withernsea; Was ever anything so dark, so pale As he? His hat, his clothes, his tie, his boots Were black as black Could be, And midst of all was a cold white face, And eyes that looked wearily.
The road was bleak and straight and flat To Withernsea, Gaunt poles with shrilling wires their weird Did dree; On the sky stood out, on the swollen sky The black blood veins Of tree After tree, as they beat from the face Of the wind which they could not flee.
And in the fields along the road
​Swart crows sat huddled on the ground Disconsolately, While overhead the seamews wheeled, and skirled In glee; But the black cows stood, and cropped where they stood, And never heeded thee, O dark pale man, with the weary eyes, On the road to Withernsea.
H. H. ABBOTT
# The year's at the spring/Belloc, Hilaire

The Early Morning
THE moon on the one hand, the dawn on the other: The moon is my sister, the dawn is my brother. The moon on my left and the dawn on my right. My brother, good morning: my sister, good night.
HILAIRE BELLOC
The South Country
WHEN I am living in the Midlands That are sodden and unkind, I light my lamp in the evening: My work is left behind; And the great hills of the South Country Come back into my mind.
The great hills of the South Country They stand along the sea; And it's there walking in the high woods That I could wish to be, And the men that were boys when I was a boy Walking along with me.
The men that live in North England I saw them for a day: Their hearts are set upon the waste fells, Their skies are fast and grey; From their castle-walls a man may see The mountains far away.
​The men that live in West England They see the Severn strong, A-rolling on rough water brown Light aspen leaves along. They have the secret of the Rocks, And the oldest kind of song.
But the men that live in the South Country Are the kindest and most wise, They get their laughter from the loud surf, And the faith in their happy eyes Comes surely from our Sister the Spring When over the sea she flies; The violets suddenly bloom at her feet, She blesses us with surprise.
I never get between the pines But I smell the Sussex air; Nor I never come on a belt of sand But my home is there. And along the sky the line of the Downs So noble and so bare.
A lost thing could I never find, Nor a broken thing mend: ​And I fear I shall be all alone When I get towards the end. Who will be there to comfort me Or who will be my friend?
I will gather and carefully make my friends Of the men of the Sussex Weald, They watch the stars from silent folds, They stiffly plough the field. By them and the God of the South Country My poor soul shall be healed.
If I ever become a rich man, Or if ever I grow to be old, I will build a house with deep thatch To shelter me from the cold, And there shall the Sussex songs be sung And the story of Sussex told.
I will hold my house in the high wood Within a walk of the sea, And the men that were boys when I was a boy Shall sit and drink with me.
HILAIRE BELLOC
# The year's at the spring/Chalmers, P. R

If I had a Broomstick
IF I had a broomstick, and knew how to ride it, I'd fly through the windows when Jane goes to tea, And over the tops of the chimneys I'd guide it, To lands where no children are cripples like me; I'd run on the rocks with the crabs and the sea, Where soft red anemones close when you touch; If I had a broomstick, and knew how to ride it, If I had a broomstick—instead of a crutch!
PATRICK R. CHALMERS
Roundabouts and Swings
IT was early last September nigh to Framlin'am-on-Sea, An' 'twas Fair-day come to-morrow, an' the time was after tea, An' I met a painted caravan adown a dusty lane, A Pharaoh with his waggons comin' jolt an' creak an' strain; A cheery cove an' sunburnt, bold o' eye and wrinkled up, An' beside him on the splashboard sat a brindled tarrier pup, An' a lurcher wise as Solomon an' lean as fiddle-strings Was joggin' in the dust along 'is roundabouts and swings.
"Goo'-day," said 'e; "Goo'-day," said I; "an' 'ow d'you find things go, An' what's the chance o' millions when you runs a travellin' show?" ​"I find," said 'e, "things very much as 'ow I've always found, For mostly they goes up and down or else goes round and round." Said 'e, "The job's the very spit o' what it always were, It's bread and bacon mostly when the dog don't catch a 'are; But lookin' at it broad, an' while it ain't no merchant king's, What's lost upon the roundabouts we pulls up on the swings!
"Goo' luck," said 'e; "Goo' luck," said I; "you've put it past a doubt; An' keep that lurcher on the road, the gamekeepers is out"; 'E thumped upon the footboard an' 'e lumbered on again To meet a gold-dust sunset down the owl-light in the lane; An' the moon she climbed the 'azels, while a night-jar seemed to spin That Pharaoh's wisdom o'er again, 'is sooth of lose-and-win; ​For "up an' down an' round," said 'e, "goes all appointed things,
An' losses on the roundabouts means profits on the swings!"
PATRICK R. CHALMERS
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Robinson, Thomas

​ROBINSON, Thomas, C.E.; took an active part in the Fenian movement; sent to U.S. in 1866, business for Fenian Brotherhood; joined Col. Lynch's Brigade and fought in Sth. African War, wounded twice; returned to Longford in 1903; was appointed in 1904 to position of Co. Surveyor, Longford; prominently identified himself with recent National movement and was actually present in spite of his years at the famous Trillick ambush in February, 1921; b. Briskill, Co. Longford, 1840. Res.: Dublin Street, Longford.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Robinson, Sir William Henry

​ROBINSON, Sir William Henry, Knt. (1914), M.A., LL.B., and Member of Senate (T.C.D.), M.A. and Member of Senate (Cantab.); J.P. for Surrey: Barrister King's Inns; Clerk of the Crown, Co. Roscommon, 1891, and Clerk of the Crown and Peace and Registrar of Titles, Co. Roscommon, 1892-1913; one of the Chairmen of the Industrial Court; son of the late William Henry Robinson, J.P., of Aughenarget, Co. Westmeath; b. 28th November, 1850; m. 10th June, 1912, Marie Augustine, dau. of Count Joseph d'Artout, of Limoges. Haute Vienne, France, and widow of William Palmer-Chapman; invested at Buckingham Palace, 10th February, 1914. Clubs: Carlton, Junior Carlton, London, S.W. University, Dublin.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Robinson, Right Hon. Sir Henry Augustus

​ROBINSON, Right Hon. Sir Henry Augustus, Baronet (Unit. Kgd., 1920), P.C. (Irld.), 1902; K.C.B. Civ. (1900); C.B. Civ. (1897); entered the Local Government Board as Inspector, 1879; appointed Commissioner, 1891: Vice-President 1898 to 1922; Member of Royal Commission on Poor Laws, 1905-09; Committee of Imperial and Local Taxation, 1912; Committee of Old Age Pensions, 1919; son of Sir H. Robinson, K.C.B. (d. 1893), and Hon. Eva, dau. of 10th Viscount Valentia: b. 1857; m. Harriet, dau. of Sir Robert Lynch-Blosse, Bart, and has issue three sons. Res.: Lisnacarrig, Foxrock, Co. Dublin. Clubs: Athenæum, London; Kildare Street, Dublin; St. George's Yacht Club, Kingstown.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Robinson, Sir Thomas William

​ROBINSON, Sir Thomas William, Knt. (1900); J.P. Co. Dublin, and Chairman Kingstown Urban District Council, 1899-1910; Chairman of Hayes, Conyngham and Robinson, Ltd., Dublin; Director of Boots Pure Drug Co., Ltd., Nottingham; Chairman Metropole Hotels Co. (Ireland), Pavilion Gardens, Kingstown, Ltd., and of the United Drug Co., of Boston, Mass.; eldest son of John Robinson, Clones, Co. Monaghan; b. 1864; m. 1890, Lucie Florence, youngest dau. of late Humphrey Smith, J.P., Mountmellick. Res.: 7 Herbert Road, Sandymount, Co. Dublin. Leinster Club, Dublin.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Roch, Lieut.-Col. Horace Sampson

​ROCH, Lieut.-Col. Horace Sampson, C.M.G. (1919): D.S.O. (1917), M.R.C.S., Eng.,L.R.C.P. (Lond.);Lieut.-Col. R.A.M.C. Educ.: King's College Hospital, London; joined R.A.M.C. 1899; served S. African War, 1899-1902; Adjutant R.A.M.C. School of Instruction, West Riding Divison Territorial Force, 1908-11; European War, 1914-19; youngest son of late Surgeon-Gen. Sampson Roch, of Woodbine Hill, Youghal, Co. Cork; b. 1876: m. 1919, Marjorie, dau. of late Robert Henry Power, of Cliff House, Ardmore, Co. Waterford. Res.: Woodbine Hill, near Youghal, Co. Cork.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Roche, Col. Henry John

​ROCHE, Col. Henry John, C.B. (1915), Indian Army. Educ. Stoneyhurst College, and Sandhurst; entered army (Cheshire Regt.), 1884; transferred to Indian Army, 1886; Captain, 1895; Major, 1902; Lt.-Col., 1910; Col., 1915; served N.W. Frontier, India, 1897-8; China, 1900 (Boxer Rebellion) European War, 1914-18. Recns.: shooting, fishing, golf; second son of late Capt. Charles Philip Roche, of Ballygran, Co. Limerick; b. 12th August, 1864; m. 1905, Gladys, dau. of Felix Drake, of North Coker, Somerset, and has issue two sons and one dau. Res.: Greenlawn, Burnham-on-Sea, Somerset: Burnham Golf Club, and Burnham and County Club.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Roche, Edmund

​ROCHE, Edmund (M.P. for Kerry and West Limerick from 1921); Member of the Limerick County Council. Res.: Knockfenora, Bruree, Co. Limerick.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Robinson, Andrew

​ROBINSON, Andrew, C.B.E. (1918), M.V.O. 5th class (1911), F.S.A.; Inspector of Ancient and National Monuments, Ireland, and Principal Architect, Board of Public Works; Commissioner Board of Public Works from 1921; youngest son of George Robinson, of Ballytweedy, Muckamore, Co. Antrim; b. 1858; m. 1885, Robina, dau. of Jas. Salmond, of Perth, Scotland. Res.: 116 St. Lawrence Road.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Robinson, Lennox

​ROBINSON, Lennox, Manager Abbey Theatre, Dublin, 1910-14, and from 1919; Organising Librarian and Secretary Irish Advisory Committee Carnegie U.K. Trust from 1915; b. 4th Oct., 1886, at Douglas, Cork; youngest son of Rev. A. C. Robinson. Pubns.: Plays—The Cross Roads, 1909; Two Plays, 1910; Patriots, 1912; The Dreamers, 1915; The Lost Leader, 1918; The Whiteheaded Boy, 1920. Novel: The Young Man from the South, 1917. Stories: Dark Days. 1918; Eight Short Stories, 1919. Res.: The Lodge, Foxrock, Co. Dublin. Club: United Arts, Dublin.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Roche, Lady, Sybil

​ROCHE, Lady, Sybil, dau. of late Col. Julius D. Dyson-Laurie; m. 1910 as his second wife. Sir Standish Deane O'Grady Roche, 3rd Bart. (d. 1914). Res.: Aghade, Tullow, Co. Carlow.
# Things Japanese/Funerals

London: John Murray, pages 204–205
​Funerals. Till recently all funerals were in the hands of the Buddhist hierarchy,—even the funerals of Shintō priests themselves: but now the Shintōists are allowed to bury their own dead. The Shintō coffin resembles that used in Europe. The Buddhist coffin is small and square, and the corpse is fitted into it in a squatting posture with the head bent to the knees,—a custom which some derive from the devout habit of sitting rapt in religious meditation, while others discover in it a symbolical representation, in the last earthly scene, of the position of the unborn child in its mother's womb. Further outward and visible signs whereby to distinguish a Buddhist from a Shintō funeral, are, in the former, the bare shaven heads of the Buddhist priests and the dark blue coats of the coffin-bearers; in the latter, the plain white garb of the coffin-bearers, the Shintō priests ​shaven heads and curved gauze caps, and the (lags and branches of trees borne in the procession. The use of large bouquets of flowers is common to both, and both religions have funeral services of great length and intricacy.
Vast sums of money are often lavished on funerals, more especially by the Imperial Family. When the Empress Dowager died, in 1897, no less than 700,000 yen were appropriated from the national treasury. Never, perhaps, was funeral pomp more elaborate than on this occasion, which, from first to last, occupied several weeks,—for the actual interment was only the last scene in an extraordinarily complicated set of observances. The procession was two miles in length, the final ceremony lasted over twenty-two hours, during all which time Imperial princes stood or walked almost barefoot in the snow without eating a morsel of food. An ox-wagon, with wheels purposely built so as to creak mournfully, bore the magnificent coffin in which the body lay preserved in vermilion. Three oxen drew it harnessed in single file,—the leader jet-black, the next dun colour with black flecks, the third spotted white and black, with a white star on the forehead and four white stockings, all this in accordance with ancient use. The actual grave-diggers were habited as birds with black wings, because for these, being devoid of reason, there could be no sacrilege in perching upon an Empress's tomb. All sound of music was hushed throughout the land for the space of a month, the schools were closed for a week, and thousands of criminals liberated. The Court itself suspended all festivities for a year. (See also Article on Archæology.)
Books recommended. Japanese Funeral Rites, by A. H. Lay, in Vol. XIX. Part III. of the "Asiatic Transactions."—A Shintō Funeral, by Baroness Sannomiya, in the "Nineteenth Century" for December, 1896.
# Tom Swift in the Caves of Ice

Book 8 in the Tom Swift Series
TOM SWIFT IN THE
CAVES OF ICE
OR
The Wreck of the Airship
BY
VICTOR APPLETON
AUTHOR OF "TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR-CYCLE," "TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP," "TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1911, by GROSSET & DUNLAP
Tom Swift in the Caves of Ice
DOWN CRASHED THE ROOF OF THE ICE CAVE!—Page 208.
Tom Swift in the Caves of Ice.
CONTENTS
| CHAPTER | CHAPTER | PAGE |
| I | Eradicate in an Airship | 1 |
| II | Andy Foger's Triplane | 13 |
| III | Abe Is Deceived | 23 |
| IV | Tom Gets the Map | 36 |
| V | Grave Suspicions | 46 |
| VI | Andy's Airship Flies | 54 |
| VII | Ready for the Trip | 64 |
| VIII | A Thief in the Night | 72 |
| IX | A Vandals's Act | 82 |
| X | Tom Is Held Up | 91 |
| XI | Off for the Frozen North | 99 |
| XII | Pelted by Hailstones | 106 |
| XIII | A Frightened Indian | 113 |
| XIV | The Rival Airship | 121 |
| XV | The Race | 132 |
| XVI | The Fall of the Anthony | 139 |
| XVII | Hitting the Ice Mountain | 146 |
| XVIII | A Fight with Musk Oxen | 153 |
| XIX | The Caves of Ice | 162 |
| XX | In The Gold Valley | 169 ​ |
| XXI | The Fogers Arrive | 177 |
| XXII | Jumping the Claim | 185 |
| XXIII | Attacked by Natives | 193 |
| XXIV | The Wreck of the Airship | 201 |
| XXV | The Rescue—Conclusion | 209 |
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
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
# Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan/Series 1/Volume 3

* Part 1
* Part 2
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
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