OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Kern-Limerick v. Scurlock

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
347 U.S. 110
Kern-Limerick, Inc. et al. v. Scurlock, Commissioner of Revenues for Arkansas
Appeal from the Supreme Court of Arkansas
No. 115. Argued: January 4, 1954. --- Decided: February 8, 1954

## Dissenting Opinions

    Black
    Douglas

## Linked case(s)

221 Ark. 439 347 U.S. 110 223 Ark. 464
The Arkansas Gross Receipts Tax Law of 1941, which levies on aellers an excise tax of 2% on the gross receipts from all sales in the State, held unconstitutional as applied to the transactions here involved, whereby private contractors procured in Arkansas two tractors for use in constructing a naval ammunition depot for the United States under a cost-plus-fixed-fee contract entered into with the Navy Department under §§ 2(c)(10) and 4(b) of the Armed Services Procurement Act of 1947 and providing that, in procuring articles required for accomplishment of the work, the contractor should act as purchasing agent for the Government, title to the articles purchased should pass directly from the vendor to the Government and the Government should be directly liable to the vendor for payment of the purchase price. Pp. 111–123.
(a) The Procurement Act authorized the purchase of this machinery by the Navy for the construction of an ammunition depot. P. 114.
(b) Under the Procurement Act, the Navy Department has power to negotiate contracts which provide for private purchasing agents for supplies and materials. Pp. 114–116.
(c) The restrictions in § 7 (b) on delegations of authority are not applicable to actions under § 2(c)(10). Pp. 115–116.
(d) Under the contract here involved, the United States was the real purchaser; the naming of the Government as purchaser was not merely colorable and did not leave the contractor the real purchaser. Alabama v. King & Boozer, 314 U.S. 1, distinguished. Pp. 116–122.
(e) The drafting of the contract by the Navy Department to conserve Government funds, if that was the purpose, does not change the character of the transaction. Pp. 122–123.
221 Ark. 439, 254 S.W.2d 454, reversed.
The Supreme Court of Arkansas held the Arkansas Gross Receipts Tax Law of 1941, Ark. Stat., 1947, § 84-1901 et seq., applicable to the sale of certain machinery​ in Arkansas for use in the construction of a naval ammunition depot for the United States. 221 Ark. 439, 254 S.W.2d 454. On appeal to this Court, reversed, p. 123.
Assistant Attorney General Holland argued the cause for appellants. On the brief were Acting Solicitor General Stern, Mr. Holland, Ellis N. Slack and Lee A. Jackson for the United States, and A. F. House and William Nash for Kern-Limerick, Inc., appellants.
O. T. Ward argued the cause and filed a brief for appellee.
Mr. Justice Reed delivered the opinion of the Court.
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
# Kermarec v. Compagnie Generale Transatlantique

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
358 U.S. 625
Kermarec v. Compagnie Generale Transatlantique
Argued: Nov. 13, 1958. --- Decided: Feb 24, 1959
Mr. Edward J. Malament, New York City, for petitioner.
Mr. George A. Garvey, New York City, for respondent.
Mr. Justice STEWART 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
# Kercheval v. United States

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
274 U.S. 220
Kercheval v. United States
Argued: January 19, 1927. --- Decided: May 2, 1927
Messrs. William E. Leahy and William J. Hughes, Jr., both of Washington, D. C. (Mesrs. Edward J. Callahan, George R. Smith, and Wm. B. Movery, all of Minneapolis, Minn., Paul Jones and Paul Jones, Jr., both of Texarkana, Ark., H. C. Wade, of Fort Worth, Tex., and Samuel B. Wilson, Jr., of Mankato, Minn., of counsel), for petitioner.
Messrs. William D. Mitchell, Sol. Gen., of Washington, D. C., William J. Donovan, Asst. Atty. Gen., and William D. Whitney, Sp. Asst. Atty. Gen., for the United States.
Mr. Justice BUTLER 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
# Kerfoot v. Farmers & Merchants Bank

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
218 U.S. 281
Kerfoot v. Farmers & Merchants Bank
Argued: October 25, 1910. --- Decided: November 7, 1910
Messrs. Homer Hall, George Hall, W. B. C. Brown, and Frank Hall for plaintiff in error.
[Argument of Counsel from pages 281-284 intentionally omitted]
Mr. Thomas J. Beall for defendants in error.
[Argument of Counsel from pages 284-285 intentionally omitted]
Mr. Justice Hughes 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
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835/Preface

5
PREFACE.
I have again the pleasant task of presenting another volume to the public;—pleasant with the remembrance of former, and the hope of future encouragement.
The character of the present work is more various than that of its predecessors. Perhaps, as it does not belong to my share in the contents, I may be permitted to point attention to the beauty and novelty of the coloured frontispiece. The music introduced is also a new feature; but I may safely leave Mr. Russel’s songs to make their own welcome.
May I, while offering a fourth volume of the Drawing-Room Scrap Book to my readers, venture to rely on a continuance of that favour, at once the source and the reward of a writer’s anxiety and exertion.
L. E. L.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835/Raphael Sanzio

73
* Artist: after Raphael - Engraved by: W. Holl
RAPHAEL SANZIO.
This celebrated Italian was essentially the painter of beauty. Of the devotion with which he sought its inspiration in its presence, a remarkable instance is recorded. He either could not or would not paint without the presence of his lovely mistress, La Fornarina.
[Ah! not for him the dull and measured eye,
Which colours nothing in the common sky,
Which sees but night upon the starry cope,
And animates with no mysterious hope.
Which looks upon a quiet face, nor dreams
If it be ever tranquil as it seems;
Which reads no histories in a passing look,
Nor on the cheek which is the heart's own book,
Whereon it writes in rosy characters
Whate'er emotion in its silence stirs.  Such are the common people of the soul,
Of whom the stars write not in their bright scroll.
These, when the sunshine at the noontide makes
Golden confusion in the forest brakes,
See no sweet shadows gliding o'er the grass,
Which seems to fill with wild flowers as they pass; These, from the twilight music of the fount
Ask not its secret and its sweet account;
These never seek to read the chronicle
Which hides within the hyacinth's dim-lit bell:
They know not of the poetry which lies
Upon the summer rose's languid eyes;
They have no spiritual visitings elysian,
They dream no dreamings, and they see no vision.
 The young Italian was not of the clay,
That doth to dust one long allegiance pay.
No; he was tempered with that finer flame,
Which ancient fables say from heaven came;
The sunshine of the soul, which fills the earth
With beauty borrowed from its place of birth.
Hence has the lute its song, the scroll its line;
Hence stands the statue glorious as its shrine;
Hence the fair picture, kings are fain to win,
The mind's creations from the world within.]
Not without me!—alone, thy hand  Forgot its art awhile;
Thy pencil lost its high command,
 Uncherished by my smile.
It was too dull a task for thee
 To paint remembered rays;
Thou, who were wont to gaze on me,
 And colour from that gaze.
I know that I am very fair,  I would I were divine,
To realize the shapes that share
 Those midnight hours of thine.
Thou sometimes tell'st me, how in sleep
 What lovely phantoms seem;
I hear thee name them, and I weep,
 Too jealous of a dream.
But thou didst pine for me, my love,  Aside thy colours thrown;
'Twas sad to raise thine eyes above,
 Unanswered by mine own:
Thou who art wont to lift those eyes,
 And gather from my face
The warmth of life's impassioned dyes,
 Its colour and its grace.
Ah! let me linger at thy side,  And sing some sweet old song,
That tells of hearts as true and tried,
 As to ourselves belong.
The love, whose light thy colours give,
 Is kindled at the heart;
And who shall bid its influence live,
 My Raphael, if we part?
The portrait from which this engraving is taken, is the one in the Berlin gallery;—a portrait late researche s ascertain to be the genuine one.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835/Scene in Kattiawar

31
* SCENE IN KATTIAWAR, TRAVELLERS & ESCORT.
* Artist: C. Stanfield - Engraved by: E. Smith
SCENE IN KATTIAWAR.
"The north-western portion of Guzerat is inhabited by a warlike and robber race; hence travellers need an escort. This is sometimes given by the native chieftains. More frequently the merchant hires a guard. The annexed plate represents the halt of such a party. The shelter afforded by the ruined temples and tombs, occasion such resting places to be usually made in their vicinity."
I have a steed, to leave behind The wild bird, and the wilder wind: I have a sword, which does not know How to waste a second blow: I have a matchlock, whose red breath Bears the lightning's sudden death: I have a foot of fiery flight, I have an eye that cleaves the night. I win my portion in the land By my high heart and strong right hand.
The starry heavens lit up the gloom
That lay around Al Herid's tomb;
The wind was still, you might have heard
The falling leaf, the rustling bird;
Yet no one heard my footstep fall,
None saw my shadow on the wall:
Yet curses came with morning's light,
Where was the gold they hid at night?
Where was the gold they loved so well,
My heavy girdle best could tell?
Three travellers crost by yonder shrine; I saw their polished pistols shine, And swore they were, or should be mine. The first, his head was at my feet; The second I was glad to greet; He met me like a man, his sword, Damascus true, deserved its lord; Yet soon his heart's best blood ran red: I sought the third—the slave had fled.
I have a lovely mountain bower,
Where blooms a gentle Georgian flower;
She was my spear's accustomed prize,
The antelope hath not such eyes.
Now my sweet captive loves her lot,
What has a queen that she has not?
Let her but wish for shawls or pearls,
To bind her brow, to braid her curls;
And I from east to west would fly,
Ere she should ask and I deny.
But those rich merchants must be near,
Away, I cannot linger here;
The vulture hovers o'er his prey,
Come, my good steed—away!—away!
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835/Manchester

49
* MANCHESTER.
* Artist: G. Pickering - Engraved by: T. Higham
MANCHESTER.
Go back a century on the town,  That o'er yon crowded plain,
With wealth its dower, and art its crown,  Extends its proud domain.
Upon that plain a village stood,
 Lonely, obscure, and poor;
The sullen stream rolled its dull flood
 Amid a barren moor.
Now, mark the hall, the church, the street,  The buildings of to-day;
Behold the thousands now that meet
 Upon the peopled way.
Go, silent with the sense of power,
 And of the mighty mind
Which thus can animate the hour,
 And leave its works behind.
Go through that city, and behold  What intellect can yield,
How it brings forth an hundred-fold
 From time's enduring field. Those walls are filled with wealth, the spoil  Of industry and thought,
The mighty harvest which man's toil
 Out of the past has wrought.
Science and labour here unite  The thoughtful and the real,
And here man's strength puts forth its might  To work out man's ideal.
The useful is the element  Here laboured by the mind,
Which, on the active present bent,  Invented and combin'd.
The product of that city, now  Far distant lands consume;
The Indian wears around his brow
 The white webs of her loom.
Her vessels sweep from East to West;
 Her merchants are like kings;
While wonders in her walls attest
 The power that commerce brings.
From wealth hath sprung up nobler fruit,  Taste linked with arts divine;
The Gallery and the Institute
 Enlighten and refine.
And many an happy English home
 With love and peace repays
The care that may be yet to come,
 The toil of early days.
Had I to guide a stranger's eye  Around our glorious land,
Where yonder wondrous factories lie
 I'd bid that stranger stand.
Let the wide city spread displayed
 Beneath the morning sun,
And in it see for England's trade
 What yonder town hath done.
"In a speech last year, at the British Association, Mr. Brand well advised the members to take the manufacturing districts of England on their way to the north, and to explore the wonders there accumulated. Manchester is the great miracle of modern progress. Science, devoted to utility and industry, have achieved the most wonderful results. Intellectual advancement denoted in a taste for literature and the fine arts,—employment for the highest as well as the lowest;—public buildings, liberal institutions, and all that can mark wealth, and a knowledge of its best purposes;—all this is the growth of a single century."
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835/Speke Hall

34
* SPEKE HALL, LANCASHIRE.
* Artist: T. Allom - Engraved by: E. Challis
SPEKE HALL.
Oh, fair old House—how Time doth honour thee, Giving thee what to-day may never gain,
Of long respect and ancient poesy;
The yew-trees at thy doors are black with years,
And filled with memories of those warlike days,
When from each bough was lopped a gallant bow;
For then the yew was what the oak is now,
And what our bowmen were, our sailors are.
How green the ivy grows upon the walls,
Ages have lent their strength to those frail boughs,
A venerable wreath upon the past,
Which here is paramount;—the past, which is
Imagination's own gigantic realm.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835/Mardale Head

77
* MARDALE HEAD, WESTMORLAND.
* Artist: T. Allom - Engraved by: E. Challis
MARDALE HEAD.
Why should I seek these scenes again, the past Is on yon valley like a shroud?
Weep for the love that fate forbids,  Yet loves unhoping on,
Though every light that once illumed  Its early path be gone.
Weep for the love that must resign
 The heart's enchanted dream,
And float, like some neglected bark,
 Adown life's lonely stream.
Weep for the love these scenes recall,  Like some enduring spell;
It rests within the soul which loved
 Too vainly, and too well.
Weep for the breaking heart condemn'd  To see its youth pass by,
Whose lot has been in this cold world  To dream, despair, and die.
"Among the mountains which form the southern boundary of Haweswater is Mardale Head, a wild and solitary region, wherein nature, working with a master hand, seems to have produced the very beau ideal of romantic grandeur and sublimity. The beautiful representation which the artist has given, renders description almost needless, and almost impossible."
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835/Olinthus Gregory

39
* Artist: R. Evans - Engraved by: H. Robinson
OLINTHUS GREGORY, L.L.D., F.R.A.S., &c.
"The following lines allude to Dr. Gregory's late domestic calamity. Mr. Boswell Gregory, his eldest son, was drowned by the boat's upsetting as he was returning home by water to his father's house at Woolwich."
Is there a spot where Pity's foot,  Although unsandalled, fears to tread, A silence where her voice is mute,  Where tears, and only tears, are shed? It is the desolated home,  Where Hope was yet a recent guest, Where Hope again may never come,  Or come, and only speak of rest.
They gave my hand the pictured scroll,  And bade me only fancy there A parent's agony of soul,  A parent's long and last despair; The sunshine on the sudden wave,  Which closed above the youthful head, Mocking the green and quiet grave,  Which waits the time-appointed dead.
I thought upon the lone fire-side,  Begirt with all familiar thought, The future, where a father's pride  So much from present promise wrought; The sweet anxiety of fears,  Anxious from love's excess alone, The fond reliance upon years  More precious to us than our own:
All past—then weeping words there came  From out a still and darkened room, They could not bear to name a name  Written so newly on the tomb. They said he was so good and kind,  The voices sank, the eyes grew dim; So much of love he left behind,  So much of life had died with him.
Ah, pity for the long beloved,  Ah, pity for the early dead; The young, the promising, removed  Ere life a light or leaf had shed. Nay, rather pity those whose doom  It is to wait and weep behind, The father, who within the tomb  Sees all life held most dear enshrined.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835/St. Knighton’s Kieve

67
* ST. KNIGHTON’S KIEVE, NEAR BOSCASTLE.
* Artist: T. Allom - Engraved by: J. Thomas
ST. KNIGHTON'S KIEVE.
Silent and still was the haunted stream, Feeble and faint was the moon's pale beam,
And the wind that whispered the waving bough
Was like the sound of some godless vow.
Far in the distance the waters fell
Foaming o'er many a pinnacle;
They waged with the crags an angry fight,
'Twas a dreary sound in the dead of night.
But the place where we stood was a quiet nook,
Like a secret page in nature's book;
Down at our feet was the midnight well,
Naught of its depths can the daylight tell.
An old oak tree grows near to the spot,
Gray with moss of long years forgot;
They say that the dead are sleeping below,
'Twas a shrine of the Druids ages ago.
One alone stood beside me there,
The dismal silence I could not bear;
A mariner wild from beyond the sea:
I wish that he had not been with me.
Over the gloomy well we hung,
And a long, long line with the lead we flung;
And as the line and the hook we threw,
Darker and darker the waters grew.
With gibe and jest that mariner stood,
Mocking the night of that gloomy flood;
Quoth he, "when the line brings its treasure up,
I'll drain a deep draught from the golden cup.
"I only wish it were filled with wine, Water has little love of mine; But the eyes I'll pledge will lend a glow, They're the brightest and wickedest eyes I know
"Though those eyes light up a cloister now,
Little she recks of the veil and the vow;
And let but the well yield its gold to-night,
And St. Valerie's nun will soon take flight."
Black and more black the midnight grew,
Black and more black was the water's hue;
Then a ghastly sound on the silence broke,
And I thought of the dead beneath the oak.
"Thank God, thank God for light below, 'Tis the charmed cup that is flashing now;" "No thanks to God," my comrade cries, "'Tis our own good skill that has won the prize."
There came a flash of terrible light, And I saw that my comrade's face was white; The golden cup rose up on a foam, Then down it plunged to its mystical home.
Then all was night—and I may not tell
What agony there on my spirit fell;
But I pray'd for our Lady's grace as I lay,
And the pain and the darkness past away.
Years have past, yet that sinful man,
Though his hair is gray and his face is wan,
Keeps plunging his line in the gloom of that well;
He is under the Evil Spirit's spell.
'Twas the fairies carved that cup's bright mould,
What have we to do with their gold?
Now our Lady forgive my hour of sin,
That ever I sought that cup to win.
I am indebted to a communication from Mr. Clarke for this legend. He has not stated the attempt to gain the golden cup, hidden in the well, to be an act so reprehensible as I have made it. However, I only follow common custom, in putting upon any act the worst possible construction.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835/Scene in Bundelkhund

see Budelkhand
65
* SCENE NEAR CHILLAH TARAH GHAUT, BUNDELKHUND.
* Artist: H. Melville - Engraved by: S. Bradshaw
SCENE IN BUNDELKHUND.
She sat beneath the palm-tree, as the night
Came with a purple shadow on the day,
Which died away in hues of crimson shades,
Blushes and tears. The wind amid the reeds,
The long green reeds, sung mournfully, and shook
Faint blossoms on the murmuring river's face.
The eve was sweet and silent—she who sat
Beneath the deepening shadow of the palm,
Looked like an ancient and a pastoral dream;
Dreams—dreams indeed! It is man's actual lot
That gives the future hope, and fills the past
With happiness that is not—may not be.
—Oh, tranquil earth and heaven—but their repose, What influence hath it on the mourner there?
Her eye is fixed in terrible despair,
Her lip is white with pain, and, spectre-like,
Her shape is worn with famine—on her arm
Rests a dead child—she does not weep for it.
Two more are at her side, she'd weep for them,
But that she is too desperate to weep:
Dust has assumed dominion, she has now
No tenderness, nor sweet solicitudes
That fill the youthful mother with fond fears.
Our fierce and cruel nature, that which sleeps
In all, though lulled by custom, law, and ease,
In her is roused by suffering. There is death
Within those wolfish eyes. Not for herself!
Fear, the last vestige of humanity,
Makes death so horrible that she will buy
Its absence, though with blood—that blood her own, Once dearer that it ran in other veins:
She'll kill those children—for they share her food.
And such is human nature, and our own.
Distress In Bundelkhund.—The Sumarchar Durpun, of Feb. 22, contains a description of the horrible state of the native population of Bundelkhund, in consequence of the famine, which has prevailed there for some time past. The price and scarcity of grain have put it far beyond the reach of the poorer classes, more particularly as there appears to be great difficulty in the way of finding employment. For some time they obtained a miserable subsistence on byers, a sort of astringent and acid berry; but even this wretched supply has now ceased. A most appalling and pitiable condition of human misery is the consequence. Mothers have been seen to devour the dead bodies of their own children!