OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Jamie's bad wife/Chapter 1

JAMlE’s BAD WIFE.
O JAMIE lad, hear my advice, And warnin’ tak’ by me, man; For if ye get a wife like me, You’ll rue’t until ye die, man; For when lhrt I was in my youth. Like you, I then cou’d quench my drouth, But now I darena wet my mouth, For Maggy’s tongue, de’il drive her south To some place far awa’, man.
On Sunday, if I spier for Will, She swears I’m seeking drink, man; Then o’er my head, wi’ furious rage, The tangs aloud will clink, man. This is the life that I must bear, She’ll harle out my very hair; And then she’ll rage, and curse, and swear, And cry, Ye dog, I’ll gi’e ye mair, Tho’ for ye I should die, man.
And, Jamie, when I got her first, I thought mysel’ enrich’d, man! Her beauty, and her bonny claes They had me sae bewitch’d, man. I had nae power to see her ill, She led me ⟨captive⟩ at her will, Poor simple youth, I hadna skill, But thought that she was like mysel’, For love and unity, man.
​But when the fatal knot was tied, I found I was betray'd', man; For she was fill’d wi' nought but strife, And foolish empty pride, man. I sit as mute as ony sot, Wi' no a word out o’ my throat, Till o’er my head the chamber-pot In twenty pieces it is broke, And then I’m forc’d to flee, man.
And if her wants I can’t supply, She’ll flee like fire on me, man; And let the pinch be ne'er so great, She cries aloud for tea, man. And if I bid her gang to wirk, She flees at me like ony Turk; Wi’ venom she could cut my throat, Or shoot me dead upon the spot: She’s fill’d with cruelty, man.
Some says that I should thresh her weel, And I should toon her hide, man; The oil o’ a gude hazel rung, They say, would lay her pride, man. But I dinna like to try that plan, It mak’s but little o’ a man, To say that he wou’d lift his han’; For instance, there, our neighbour Tam, He’s just as ill as me, man.
But Jamie, whan ye wale a wife, Lay beauty a’ aside, man; The pleasures o’ a virtuous wife Are beyond a bonny bride, man:
​Think on their wild deceitful ways, Their painted cheeks, and bonny claes; They’re like a stockin’ fu’ o’ flaes, That will torment ye a’ your days, Until the day ye die, man.
For the brawest lasses, aft, I see, Turns out the greatest daw’s, man; For when a man and bairns they get, It’s rags in place o’ braws, man. But whan a wife ye gang to seek, Look for ane that’s mild and meek, Wi’ modesty on ilka cheek, And then ycur joys will be complete Until the day ye die, man.
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# Jamie's bad wife/Chapter 4

LABOUR IN VAIN.
In search of some lambs from my flocks that had stray d, One morning I roam d o'er the plain; But, alas I after all the enquiries I made, I found it was labour in vain.
Then vex d and fatigu'd, I reclin d on the shade, And sung how young Colin the swain, My love to obtain with endearments essay'd, But he sigh'd, and he sooth'd me in vain.
Ah me silly fool, thus I chid my coy heart, Who cou'd let him unpitied complain, And suffer a bosom untainted with art, To despair, and so labour in vain.
From the copse full of rapture my Colin few light; Where be lurk d and baa beaad my fond strain; Now, now, said he, Jenny, my passion requite, And no more let me labour in vain.
Blushing I gave hand and heart so the youth, While he thank d me again and again; And now to deny a return to his truth, Lackady! it were labour in vain.
# Jamie's bad wife

Jamie’s Bad Wife.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
Success to the Loom.
The Delicate Maid.
Labour in Vain.
The Season of Love.
Falkirk—Printed by T. Johnston.
* Jamie's bad wife
* Success to the Loom
* The Delicate Maid
* Labour in Vain
* The Season of Love
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Jamie's bad wife/Chapter 2

SUCCESS TO THE LOOM.
Let the learn'd and unlearn'd still pursue their fond schemes, And pursue the same end by quite different means; We weavers can never know sorrow nor gloom, While commerce is brisk, and we work on our loom.
The coxcomb thinks happiness center'd in self, The Statesman in power, the miser in pelf The heir when he sees his old sire in the tomb; But the bliss of us weavers is fix'd in our loom.
# Jamie Douglas

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Jamie Douglas."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, 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.
* "Jamie Douglas", traditional ballad
* "Jamie Douglas", poem by K. A. Peters

### See also

Author:James Douglas
# Jamison v. Texas

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
318 U.S. 413
Jamison v. Texas
Argued: Feb. 12, 1943. --- Decided: March 8, 1943
On Appeal from the Criminal Court of Dallas County, Texas.
Mr. Hayden C. Covington, of Brooklyn, N.Y., for appellant.
Mr. H. P. Kucera, of Dallas, Tex., for appellee.
Mr. Justice BLACK 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
# Jamie's bad wife/Chapter 5

THE SEASON OF LOVE.
Bright Sol is return'd the winter is o'er, His all-chearing beams do nature restore, The cowslip and daisy the ⟨violet⟩ and rose, Each garden each orchard does fragrance disclose; The birds chearful notes are heard in each grove, All nature confesses the season of love
The Nymphs and the Shepherds come tripping amain. All hasten to join in the sports of the plain; Our rural diversions are free from all guile, The face that is honest securely can smile; The heart that is sincere in affection may prove All nature s mild force in the season of love.
O come then Philander, with Sylvia away, Our friends that expect us accuse our delay; Let s haste to the village the sports to begin; I ll strive for my Shepherd the gaaland to win, But see his approach whom my heart does approve! Who makes ev ry hour the season of love.
F I N I S
Falkirk—T. Johnston, Printers 1817.
# Jamison v. Encarnacion

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
281 U.S. 635
Jamison v. Encarnacion
Argued: April 22, 1930. --- Decided: May 26, 1930
Messrs. Theodore H. Lord, of Brooklyn, N. Y., and James B. Henney and Daniel Miner, both of New York City, for petitioners.
[Argument of Counsel from pages 635-637 intentionally omitted]
Mr. William S. Butler, of Brooklyn, N. Y., for respondent.
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
# Jamie's bad wife/Chapter 3

THE DELICATE MAID.
I told a sweet damsel a tender soft tale, Each eve as we sat in the shade, In hopes that in time my fond suit might prevail, For she was a delicate maid. I said that my love was so ardent and true, that nothing my passion could cure; But ⟨she⟩ only ⟨answered⟩ Ab! what will you do? tis a pity indeed, to be sure.
I play'd on my pipe and sung a soft song, the sentiments warm from my heart; See listen'd attentive, but then ere twas long, declar'd it was time to ⟨depart⟩. I press'd her white hand with a languishing smile. and said Pity the pangs I endure! But no other answer ⟨could⟩ gain all the while, than tis pity indeed to be sure.
At length little Cupid assisted my plan, to soften the nymph to my mind; My wishes to crown and my heart more trepan, she soon became tender and kind. To clurch the next day she consented to go, suspense I no longer endure, For wedlock s the greatest delight we can know, 'tis charming indeed, to be sure.
​To exercise us'd, and to temp'rance inclin'd, We enjoy health of body, and sweet peace of mind; And while the pale rake in disease meets his doom, Content throws her crimson on us at the loom.
The ⟨sword⟩ and the scales of strict justice we bear, And, like good Free-Masons, still act by the square; In our souls no mean passion shall ever find room, For honour and honesty wait on the loom.
Tho' wickedness reigns in camp council, and ball, Tis foolish I'm sure to be ⟨wicked⟩ at all: Mind this all ye folks from the glibe to the comb; And be merry and wise, like the lads of the loom.
Ans as to you Ladies who caper and dance. With the Eunuchs of Rome, the cetillons of France, 0 waste not on such empty trifles your bloom, But cherish the products and lads of the loom.
But if you must needs have some music at night, Sure a good Scots tune may afford you delight; Then a lilt you may dance with the brave Captain Plume, Or make merry with the lad that works at the loom.
Above your own country prize not foreign parts, Nor let their gay toys gain your purses or hearts, Nor foolishly spend at Bath, Paris, or Rome, What at home would be wisely laid out on the loom.
Why Ladies, run to foreign markets to buy, When your own manufactures will you supply? Be advis'd by a friend---impair not your bloom, With washes and paints---but apply to the loom.
# Indira and Other Stories/The Two Rings/Chapter 2

II.
No one knew why Dhana Das had forbidden his daughter's marriage to Purandar. He had not communicated his reasons to any of his intimates. If any one asked him, he simply answered, "I know what I am about." The curious thing was that though numerous proposals were made for Hiranmayi's hand, he rejected them all. He simply refused to ​discuss the matter. His wife reproached him with allowing the proper time for marriage to slip by, but he paid no attention. He merely said, "Let our Spiritual Instructor come. When he arrives we can talk about it."
Purandar departed for Ceylon. Two years passed without any occurrence worth mentioning. But Purandar did not return, and no arrangements were made for Hiranmayi's marriage. Yet the girl, now in her eighteenth year, was as lovely and attractive as a mangoe tree in full bloom in the spring time.
Not that Hiranmayi was any longer distressed at her prolonged maidenhood. If any question of marriage arose, her thoughts flew to Purandar. Her mind dwelt on his happy smiling face, fair as a flower, and set off by the crisp curling black hair around it; she thought of the brave blue cloak with gold embroidery that hung so gallantly from his manly shoulder; she remembered the brilliant rings on his fingers. She knew that she would have to marry in obedience to her father's wishes. But that ​would be a death in life. And yet, whether she were pleased or not at her father's reluctance to part with her, she was certainly puzzled. It was not the custom to keep girls unmarried at her age; even if no actual ceremony was performed, it was usual to settle the preliminaries. Why was it that her father would not even listen to proposals? One day, by an accident, she secured a clue to his reasons.
In the course of trade Dhana Das had got possession of a beautiful Chinese casket. It was bigger than such caskets usually are, and his wife used to keep her jewels in it. It happened that the merchant had had several new ornaments prepared as a present for his wife, who gave her old jewels, with the casket, to her daughter. When Hiranmayi was wrapping up her new acquisitions and potting them away, she found half of a torn piece of paper in the casket.
Hiranmayi was well educated and could read. At the first glance at the paper, she was astonished to see her own name. She looked at the fragment, but could make no sense of what ​was written on it, nor could she guess the writer or recipient of the communication. Nevertheless a strange sense of fear came over her as she read the mysterious words before her. The writing was to the following effect:
By examination of the stars I obs a golden image such as Hiranmayi age would cause terrible misfortune. years see one another they may be.
A fear of some unknown and impending misfortune filled the girl's mind. She put the scrap of paper away carefully without telling any one of her discovery.
# Indira and Other Stories/The Two Rings/Chapter 7

VII
And now at last the fifth day of the waxing ​moon of the month Asharh of the fifth year after Hiranmayi's marriage had come round. Remembering this fact, she was seated absorbed in thought as the dusk of evening drew on. She was thinking, "By the guru's order I can wear my ring to-morrow. But shall I put it on? What is the good? I may perhaps find my husband by means of it. But do I want to find him? Why is another's image always imprinted in my heart? My plain duty is to control and punish my wicked heart. Otherwise I shall fall into deadly sin."
At this moment Amala arrived in a state of high excitement and astonishment.
"Here is a fine business," she cried, "I don't know what to make of it! What will happen next?"
"What is the matter?" asked Hiranmayi.
"Why a whole crowd of menservants and maidservants have come with a palanquin with orders to convey you to the raja's palace."
"You have lost your senses, foolish woman. ​Why on earth should they want to take me to the raja's palace?"
True enough, however, one of the raja's maids here made her appearance and, making due obesiance, said, "It is the order of my master, may the holy gods prolong his days, that Hiranmayi shall at once accompany us to his palace."
Hiranmayi was amazed, but did not dare to refuse. The raja's orders could not be disobeyed. Moreover there was no occasion for fearing to enter Raja Madan Deva's palace. The Raja enjoyed the highest reputation for kindness and virtue. Not only was he virtuous himself, but owing to his vigilance no woman ran any risk of insult or annoyance under his roof.
Hiranmayi said to Amala, "I agree to pay my respects to the raja. Come you with me."
Amala agreed to go, and her mistress, mounting into the palanquin, was carried to the palace in great state. A maidservant conveyed the news of Hiranmayi's arrival to the raja and ​presently returned to escort our heroine to the presence.
Amala remained outside, in much impatience and curiosity.
# Indira and Other Stories/The Two Rings/Chapter 8

VIII
Hiranmayi was much impressed by the raja's aspect. He was a tall handsome man of noble presence, broad-chested and of martial looks; his forehead was lofty, his eyes large and piercing, his demeanour dignified. Not often does a zenana woman see so imposing and attractive a male being. The raja too recognised that even in royal palaces maidens so lovely as the merchant's daughter are not often encountered.
The raja asked, "Is this Hiranmayi?"
Hiranmayi replied, "I am your highness's humble servant."
The raja said, "Hear now why I have sent for you. Do you remember the night of your wedding?"
​Hiranmayi replied, "Indeed, sir, I do remember."
"Have you still got the ring which Ananda Swami gave you that night?"
"Maharaj, I have it still. But these are very secret matters. How has your highness cognisance of them?"
Instead of answering this question, the raja said, "Where is your ring? Show it to me."
Hiranmayi replied, "I have left it at home. An hour or more is still wanting till the five years are completed. Therefore I must still obey the Swami's orders forbidding me to wear the ring."
"Well and good. But do you think you could recognise the corresponding ring which Ananda Swami gave to your husband to keep?"
"Both rings were exactly alike. I should of course recognise the other ring from its likeness to mine."
At this, on a sign from the raja, the attendant maid-servant fetched a small casket. The raja, taking a ring from this casket, handed it to Hiranmayi, and said,
​"Look at this. Is this the ring?"
Hiranmayi carefully examined it by the light of a lamp, and said,
"Deva, this is in truth my husband's ring. But where did your highness procure it?"
After reflecting a moment, she added,
"Deva, by the sight of this I know that I am a widow. This must have come into your highness's hands by the death of my husband, since such windfalls are your highness's prerogrative as the ruler of this place. Otherwise my husband would certainly never have dared to part with it."
The raja laughed and said, "Take my word for it, madam, you are no widow."
"Then, in that case my husband is even poorer than myself. He must have sold it under pressure of dire want."
"On the contrary, your husband is a wealthy man."
"Then you must have taken the ring from my husband by force or fraud."
The raja was a little astonished at this ​daring speech. He said, "You are a very rash young woman! No one ever yet charged Raja Madan Deva with being a robber or a cheat!"
"Well, but how did the ring come into your highness's hands?"
"Ananda Swami put it on my finger on the night of your wedding!"
Hiranmayi hung her head with shame at this announcement. She said, "My prince, forgive your handmaiden's offence. I am but a witless being, and have sinned from ignorance."
# Indira and Other Stories/The Two Rings

Bengali original, Jugalanguriya, first published in 1874.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
# Indira and Other Stories/The Two Rings/Chapter 5

V
Hiranmayi was a beautiful young woman. It was not fitting that she should sleep alone in a house by herself. Not only was there obvious risk, but there might be occasion for scandalous gossip. It happened that one Amala, daughter of a milkman by caste, dwelt hard by. This woman was a widow with a baby son and some young daughters. This person had passed the age of youth and attractiveness, and had the ​reputation of being a woman of excellent character. So Hiranmayi used to go and spend the night in her house.
One evening, when Hiranmayi had arrived at her new friend's house, Amala said to her, "I have heard a piece of news. They say Purandar Chetty has returned home after an absence of eight years." On hearing these unexpected tidings, Hiranmayi turned away her face, lest Amala should see the sudden tears that came to her eyes. It seemed to her as if her last tie with the world was loosed. Purandar had succeeded in dismissing her from his mind. Else why should he return? On the other hand, what mattered it to her now, whether Purandar remembered or forgot her? True. Yet it went hard with her to think that he whose affection had been the guiding star of her whole life should have forgotten her. Then the thought came, "Perhaps he has not forgotten me after all! How long was he to stay away from his home? Besides his father was now dead. His presence at home was absolutely necessary." ​Again she thought, "I am nothing else but a wanton. Else why, being a married woman, do I think about Purandar at all?"
Amala asked, "Do you mean to say you have forgotten young Purandar? I mean Purandar, the son of Suchisuta Chetty."
Hiranmayi replied, "I remember him."
"Well, then," continued Amala, "he has come back, with ships full of treasure that cannot be counted. They say he has brought back more riches than have ever been seen in Tamluk before."
A strange pang of something like envy came into Hiranmayi's heart. She remembered her own poverty, and the old arrangement that she was to be Purandar's wife. The pain of poverty is a thing grievous to be borne, and all these riches of which Amala spoke might have been hers. There are few women who would not have felt the contrast between her actual state and what might have been. For a while Hiranmayi remained wrapped in thought. Then she turned the conversation to other matters. ​Finally, as the women were retiring to rest, she suddenly asked, "Amala, has the young merchant a wife?"
Amala replied, "No, he is not married."
A strange commotion came over Hiranmayi's spirits. For a moment she thought—but no, she would ask no more questions. She retired silently to rest.
# Indira and Other Stories/The Two Rings/Chapter 4

IV
After the wedding, Dhana Das returned home with his wife and daughter. Four more years elapsed. Purandar was still absent. After all, what did it matter to Hiranmayi now, if he did return?
Hiranmayi felt vaguely depressed at the ​thought that the friend of her childhood had absented himself all these seven years. "How can I believe," she thought, "that he has stayed away for so many years simply because he cannot forget me? Who knows whether he is alive or dead? It is not permitted to me to wish for the sight of him, now that I am another's wife. But why should I not hope and pray that my childhood's companion is still alive?"
About this time, her old father began to wear an anxious and harassed countenance, and finally fell seriously ill of a disease which caused his death. His wife refused to survive him. Hiranmayi had no other relatives than her parents, and entreated her mother with tears to change her fatal resolution, but the merchant's widow was obdurate. And so Hiranmayi was left all alone in the world.
Before dying, Hiranmayi's mother had tried to reassure her daughter. "See, my child," she had said, "you have no cause for anxiety. After all, you are a married woman. When ​the appointed interval has elapsed, who knows but you may meet your husband. You are no longer a mere girl. Above all, you have the best helper in the world, plenty of money. Your father has made due arrangements for that."
Alas, on this point the good lady was mistaken. When enquiries were made after Dhana Das's death, it was found that all his hard-won savings had disappeared. His daughter's sole possessions turned out to be her jewels, the family house, and the furniture. It seemed that for years the old man had been incurring losses in business. He had told no one of his bad investments and had struggled silently to repair his losses. Finally he had given up all hope of ever recovering his former competence. It was anxiety and business worries that had caused his illness and death.
When the news of the unfortunate merchant's failure in business spread about, creditors came and pressed Hiranmayi to pay her father's debts. She made enquiries and learned ​that the claims thus set up were just, and, a true merchant's daughter, sold all she had to clear her father's fair fame and pay his debts.
Reduced finally to dire need, the poor girl hired a small thatched hut on the outskirts of the town and dwelt there in extreme obscurity and poverty. Her only hope now lay in her spiritual guide, the guru, Ananda Swami. Unfortunately, he was then absent in a far country, nor had Hiranmayi anyone whom she could send to communicate her misfortunes to her only surviving friend and guardian.