OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Art of Bookbinding/Chapter 10

CHAPTER X.
Glueing up.
The book mast now be glued up; that is, glue must be applied to the back to hold the sections together, and make the back firm during the rounding and backing. Knock the book perfectly true at its back and head, and put it into the lying press between two pieces of old mill-board; expose the back and let it project from the boards a little, the object being to hold the book firm and to keep the slips close to the sides, so that no glue shall get on them; then with glue, not too thick, but hot, glue the back, rubbing it in with the brush, and take the overplus off again with the brush. In some shops, a handful of shavings is used to rub the glue in, and to take the refuse away, but I consider this to be a bad plan, as a great quantity of glue is wasted.
The Germans rub the glue into the back with the back of a hammer, and take away the overplus with the brush; this is certainly better than using shavings. The back must not be allowed to get too dry before it is rounded, or it will have to be damped with a sponge, to give to the glue the elasticity required, but it should not be wet, this being worse than letting it get too dry. The book should be left for about an hour, or till it no longer feels tacky to the touch, but still retains its flexibility. A flexible bound book should first be rounded, a backing board being used to bring the sheets round instead of a hammer, then the back glued, and a piece of tape tied round the book to prevent its going back flat.
​But all books are not glued up in the press; some workmen knock up a number of books, and, allowing them to project a little over their press, glue the lot up at once; others again, by holding the book in the left hand and drawing the brush up and down the back. These last methods are, however, only practised in cloth shops, where books are bound or cased at very low prices. The proper way, as I have explained, is to put the book in the lying press. The book is then laid on its side to dry, and if more than one, they should be laid alternately back and foredge, with the back projecting about half an inch, and allowed to dry spontanenusly, and on no account to be dried by the heat of a fire. All artificial heat in drying in any process of bookbinding is injurious to the work.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Were na my heart licht

Were na my heart licht.
[This beautiful and affecting song was the composition of the noble-minded daughter of Sir Patrick Home, (afterwards created Earl of Marchmont,) and wife of George Baillie, Esq. of Jerviswood, in Lanarkshire. Lady Grizzel Baillie was born at Redbraes castle in 1663; was married in 1692; and died at London in 1746. Her Memoirs, by her eldest daughter, Lady Murray of Stanhope, were published posthumously at Edinburgh in 1822. The song appears in the Orpheus Caledonius, printed in 1723, and also in the fourth volume of the Tea-Table Miscellany, printed some years later.]
There was anes a may, and she loo'd na men: She biggit her bonnie bower doun i' yon glen; But now she cries Dool, and well-a-day! Come doun the green gate, and come here away. But now she cries, &c. ​When bonnie young Johnnie cam' ower the sea, He said he saw naething sae lovely as me; He hecht me baith rings and monie braw things; And were na my heart licht I wad dee. He hecht me, &c.
He had a wee titty that loo'd na me, Because I was twice as bonnie as she; She rais'd such a pother 'twixt him and his mother, That were na my heart licht I wad dee. She rais'd, &c.
The day it was set, and the bridal to be: The wife took a dwam, and lay down to dee. She main'd, and she graned, out o' dolour and pain, Till he vow'd he never wad see me again. She main'd, &c.
His kin was for ane of a higher degree, Said, What had he to do wi' the like of me? Albeit I was bonnie, I was na for Johnnie: And were na my heart licht I wad dee. Albeit I was bonnie, &c.
They said I had neither cow nor calf, Nor dribbles o' drink rins through the draff, Nor pickles o' meal rins through the mill-e'e; And were na my heart licht I wad dee. Nor pickles, &c.
His titty she was baith wylie and slee, She spied me as I cam' ower the lea; And then she ran in, and made a loud din; Believe your ain een an ye trow na me. And then she ran in, &c.
His bonnet stood aye fu' round on his brow; His auld ane look'd aye as weel as some's new; But now he lets 't wear ony gate it will hing, And casts himself dowie upon the corn-bing. But now he, &c.
And now he gaes daundrin' about the dykes, And a' he dow do is to hund the tykes: The live-lang nicht he ne'er steeks his e'e; And were na my heart licht I wad dee. The live-lang nicht, &c.
Were I young for thee, as I ha'e been, We should ha'e been gallopin' down on yon green, And linkin' it on yon lilie-white lea; And wow! gin I were but young for thee! And linkin' it, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Wha's at the window

Wha's at the window.
[Written by Alex. Carlyle. Music by E. A. Smith.]
Wha's at the window, wha, wha? O wha's at the window, wha, wha? Wha but blythe Jamie Glen, He's come sax miles an' ten, To tak' bonnie Jeanie awa' awa', To tak' bonnie Jeanie awa'.
Bridal maidens are braw, braw, O bridal maidens are braw, braw; But the bride's modest e'e, And warm cheek are to me, 'Boon pearlins and brooches, an' a', an' a', 'Boon pearlins and brooches, an' a'.
There's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha', There's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha', There's laughing, there's quaffing, There's jesting, there's daffing, But the bride's father's blythest of a', of a', But the bride's father's blythest of a'.
It's no that she's Jamie's ava, ava, It's no that she's Jamie's ava, ava, That my heart is sae weary, When a' the lave's cheery, But it's just that she'll aye be awa' awa', But it's just that she'll aye be awa'.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Wee Johnnie

Wee Johnnie.
Wee Johnnie the hynd o' Rigghead, What think ye, he wad ha'e a wifie To manage his meal and his bread, For his siller was nae very rifie.
A laird i' the neist borough town, Had doughters and siller a plenty, Thinks he, gif the nest be na flown, My chance it'll surely be dainty.
He puts on his braw plaiding trews, And he scrapes aff his beard wi' a whittle; And he puts on the best o' his blues, And he rubs up his bonnet sae muckle.
He tak's the wide teeth'd stable kame, And he gi'es his rough head a bit clautie, He maist tore the hide frae the bane, For O it was wond'rous tautie.
His headpiece put on aboon a', He glowrs in a cogfu' o' water— Says he, "O I'm bonnie and braw, And I'm sure o' the lass and her tocher."
A staff in his han' fadam lang, An' nickit, right sair it wad bruise ye; He lilted awa' and he sang, "Now I'm sure that she canna refuse me."
Arrived at the gentleman's door— He ken'd na the gaits o' the gentry, He lean'd a' his weight till't, and there He fell wi' a blade i' the entry.
Miss Jean, for to haud up the joke, She oxter'd him ben to her cham'er, An' O! how he rifted an' spake, An' he said that she shined like the am'er.
An' now, lass, my errand to you Is to mak' ye a sort o' haff marrow To wait on my housie, my dow, While I'm at the pleugh an' the harrow.
I've already twa three-fitted stools, A fit-gang, a bed, an' an am'ry, A bink for our bickers an' bowls, An' I break them right aft when I'm angry.
I've likewise twa gude horn spoons, A flesh fork, a pot and a ladle, A girdle for toasting our scones, Baith poker an' tangs, an' a paddle.
Ye's get parritch an milk in the morning, An' butter an' cheese to your dinner, The same again' night for your corning; An' ye'll swall just like auld lucky Ginner. ​For I've thretty pun Scots ilka year— Twa pecks o' gude meal an' a saxpence Comes in ilka Saturday clear, Sent me down frae auld Andrew Dickson's.
I've likewise a dainty milk cow— An' thae things will aye haud us breathing: Twa pigs an' a dainty brood sow, An' they a' get their grazing for naething.
Sae tell me whan ye're comin' hame, An' dinna appear in a swither, For gin ye winna tak' me, my dame, Troth I'm just gaun awa' to anither.
Dear Johnnie, quo' she, with a smile, It's a' very fair that ye proffer— But wi' kye and wi' pigs for to toil— I canna accept o' your offer.
Her father this while at the door— Lap in wi' an' angry complexion, An' O! how he curst an' he swore He wad beat him, an' bruise him, an' vex him.
Poor Johnnie maist coupit the creels; The door it stood open before him; He fled—while the grews at his heels, An' the spaniels were like to devour him.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Welcome Summer

Welcome Summer.
[Thomas Lyle.—Air, "Highland Harry back again." First published in "The Portfolio of British Songs," Glasgow, 1824,]
In Flora's train the graces wait, And chase rude winter from the plain; As on she roves, the wild flowers spring, And welcome summer back again: Spring dances o'er the plain. Flowering all the woodland scene; Then join with me, my lovely May, To welcome summer back again.
The budding wild will soon perfume The air, when balm'd by April's rain, 'Mong banks clad o'er wi' waving broom, We'll welcome summer back again: In yon sequester'd scene, The maris sings his cheerful strain, And there we'll meet, my lovely May, To welcome summer back again.
When yellow cowslips scent the mead, Then gladness o'er the plains will reign, And soon, my love! we'll pu' the flowers, And welcome summer back again: Spring dances o'er the plain, Flowering all the woodland scene, With blooming garlands in her train, To welcome summer back again.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Welcome Jamie hame again

Welcome Jamie hame again.
[Written by H. S. Van Dyk.—Set to music by T. A. Rawlings.]
Now mony a weary day has pass'd, An' mony a lang an' sleepless night, Sin' I beheld my sodger last, Wha left me for the cruel fight. But though I wept that we maun part, Though ilka pleasure turn'd to pain, I'll keep a place within my heart To welcome Jamie hame again.
He shall nae say that time has changed The passion I ha'e joy'd to feel, Nor that ae thought has been estranged Frae ane whom I ha'e lo'ed sae weel. ​For I will dry my tearful e'e, Will think nae mair o' parted pain, And let my bonnie sodger see I welcome Jamie hame again.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Wedded Love

Wedded Love.
[Alex. Laing.— Air, "Carolan's Receipt."]
We sought the green, the shady grove, When life was young and love was new: We pledg'd the vows of purest love, And with our years affection grew. Now in the cot on yonder brow, Around with folding ivy wove, The Shannon's winding stream in view, How bless'd we'll live on wedded love.
And though our fortune is but low, Though we have yet but little store, I'll wield the spade, and ply the hoe, And strive to make that little more; And when my daily toil is o'er, With cheerful heart I'll homeward move— And smiling peace, and plenty, sure, Will bless the home of wedded love!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Wee Johnny Duncan

Wee Johnny Duncan.
[G. Crawfurd.—From the Ayr Advertiser, March 1842.]
Wee Johnny, puir man has nae mammy ava, And his daddy was dead ere the daylight he saw, An auld doited granny, and he, live their lane; But wee Johnny Duncan is a' body's wean.
There's Nancy M'Kissock lives neist door but three, Is kind to the bairn as a mither could be; She gi'es him his sup, and she gi'es him his bane; For wee Johnny Duncan is a' body's wean.
The Bailie's guid Lady has seven wee boys, She spares their auld claes and their cast-away toys, Round a muckle cock-horsey the thing's dancing fain; O! wee Johnny Duncan is a' body's wean.
He's up at the Railroad, he's down at the Green, And ilka bit lassie counts Johnny a frien', The grocer gi'es candy and ally campaine; For wee Johnny Duncan is a' body's wean.
He's into the Court house and laughs at the Deacon, An' glowers at the Provost, an' stan's slyly keekin', The crier says, laughing, "Boy, whar are ye ga'en? O! come awa', Johnny, ye're a' body's wean."
In thy manhood, dear Johnny, forget not to say, "In sorrow, and sickness, the Lord was my stay," And think on the days that can come not again, When friends loved and cherished the wee orphan wean.
# The Book of Scottish Song/What's a' the steer

What’s a’ the steer.
[Jacobite Song.]
What's a' the steer, kimmer? What's a' the steer? Charlie he is landed, An', haith, he'll soon be here. The win' was at his back, carle, The win' was at his back; I carena, sin' he's come, carle, We were na worth a plack. I'm right glad to hear't, kimmer, I'm right glad to hear't; I ha'e a gude braid claymore, And for his sake I'll weart. Sin' Charlie he is landed, We ha'e nae mair to fear; Sin' Charlie he is come, kimmer, We'll ha'e a jublee year.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Manayunk

Edition of 1879. See also the disclaimer.
​ MANAYUNK. See Philadelphia.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Manila (fibre)

Edition of 1879. See also Manila hemp on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
MANILA, or Manila Hemp, the fibre of musa textilis, a native of the Philippine islands, and of the same genus with the banana and plantain. The tree, known in the islands by the native name of abaca, has a similar habit of growth to the banana and other musas; the stem proper is small, and is surrounded by the broad sheathing petioles of the leaves, together making a kind of false stem, which in the abaca is 15 or 20 ft. high; the leaves are dark green, and resemble those of the banana; the fruit is small and triangular, resembling an abortive banana, and full of black seeds; the plant is readily multiplied by seeds and by suckers, and propagates itself so freely as to take complete possession of the land. When the stems are about to flower they are cut down, and split longitudinally in four pieces; the petioles, which are the portion furnishing the fibre, are then pulled off, the outer ones, which furnish the coarsest and strongest fibre, being kept separate from the inner; those which grow
near the centre are rejected, as their fibres are not strong enough to be useful. To separate the fibre, the petioles are thoroughly beaten with wooden clubs, by which much of the adhering tissue is loosened; and the separation is further effected by the use of a coarse hackle, after which the fibres are frequently washed, and when freed of all extraneous matter they are hung upon poles or ropes to dry. The fibres are coarser or finer as they are from the outer or inner petioles, and they are carefully assorted, the coarsest being for cordage and the finer for weaving. As a material for ropes and other cordage its great tenacity and durability make it highly valuable, and large quantities are used for this purpose. From the finer fibres the inhabitants of the islands weave tissues of great delicacy; the fibres are not spun, but used in their natural state; those of a proper size being selected, the single fibres, which are about 15 ft. long, are tied together at their ends, and wound into a ball, soaked in hot water, and dried, when they are ready for weaving. Tissues woven from the abaca fibre are almost transparent, somewhat rigid, light, and cool to the touch ; muslins, veils, napkins, &c., are made from it, and it is even woven into shirts and other articles of apparel; the material readily takes dyes of all colors. Large quantities of paper are made in whole or in part from manila, usually in the form of worn-out rope; it possesses great toughness in proportion to its weight.
Manila Hemp Tree (Musa textilis).
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Manchester (Connecticut)

Edition of 1879. See also Manchester, Connecticut on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ MANCHESTER, a town of Hartford co., Connecticut, on the Hartford, Providence, and Fishkill railroad, 5 m. E. of Hartford; pop. in 1870, 4,223. It contains extensive manufactories of book, government, and bank-note paper, of woollens and ginghams, print works, a silk factory, several carriage factories, &c. A weekly newspaper is published. The paper mills are at North Manchester, 3 m. from which is South Manchester, which has grown up around the Cheney silk works, the most extensive in America. Dress silks and sewing silks are manufactured in immense quantities, by ingenious machinery, much of which was invented solely for use here. The cocoons are imported, and all the work of spinning, weaving, and dyeing is done here. The village was laid out by a landscape gardener; there are no fences, and pigs and poultry are prohibited. It is lighted with gas. There is a handsome public hall, with a library and reading room, and a free school to which the operatives are required to send their children.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Marathon (county)

Edition of 1879. See also Marathon County, Wisconsin on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​MARATHON, a N. county of Wisconsin, bordering on Michigan, and drained by the Wisconsin river and its branches; area, 6,048 sq. m.; pop. in 1870, 5,885. It has a diversified surface, extensive pine forests, and numerous small lakes. The chief productions in 1870 were 35,327 bushels of wheat, 76,482 of oats, 22,164 of potatoes, 8,385 of peas and beans, and 2,843 tons of hay. There were 273 horses, 1,331 milch cows, 2,754 other cattle, 1,482 sheep, and 1,215 swine. Capital, Wausau.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Maratti, Carlo

Edition of 1879. See also Carlo Maratta on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​MARATTI, Carlo, an Italian painter, born near Ancona in 1625, died in Rome, Dec. 15, 1713. At about the age of 12 he was sent to Rome and put under the instruction of Andrea Sacchi, with whom he remained eight years. He became a student of the works of Raphael, and his contemporaries, supposing that he could only paint madonnas, called him Carluccio delle Madonne; but he silenced their sneers by executing for the baptistery of St. John Lateran a picture of Constantine destroying the idols, which caused him to rank among the first painters of the day. He restored the frescoes of Raphael in the Vatican, and those of Annibale Carracci in the Farnese palace. His masterpiece is the “Martyrdom of St. Biagio” at Genoa. He also executed several etchings from his own designs and from Italian masters.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Manby, George William

Edition of 1879. See also George William Manby on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ MANBY, George William, an English officer, born at Hilgay, Norfolk county, Nov. 28, 1765, died at Southtown, Nov. 18, 1854. He was educated at the military college of Woolwich, and became in 1803 barrack master at Great Yarmouth. Here he attempted casting a rope from the shore to a wreck by means of gunpowder. The problem to be solved was the maintenance of the connection between the rope and the mortar during its transmission. Chains were unable to stand the shock of the discharge, but stout strips of raw hide closely platted together were found to answer; and on Feb. 12, 1808, the entire crew of the brig Elizabeth, wrecked within 150 yards of the beach, were rescued by this simple contrivance. In 1810 his invention was brought before a committee of the house of commons, and he received a grant of money, and all the dangerous stations on the British coasts were supplied with his apparatus. He also contrived a pyrotechnic which renders vessels visible from shore on the darkest night; and shells filled with luminous matter, to enable the crew to perceive the approach of the rope. He published “The History and Antiquities of the Parish of St. David, South Wales” (1801), and kindred works; also “Journal of a Voyage to Greenland in 1821” (1822).
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Mancha, La

Edition of 1879. See also La Mancha on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ MACHA, La, an old province of Spain, chiefly in the S. part of New Castile, now included in the central and eastern portions of Ciudad Real, and the adjoining parts of Cuenca and Albacete; area, about 7,000 sq. m.; pop. about 200,000. The N. W. and S. E. portions are mountainous, and the centre in general a desolate sandy plateau. The towns are few and uninteresting; the cottages in the villages are built of mud. Most of the country is denuded of trees, exposed to the wintry blasts, and scorched by the summer heat. The earth is arid and stony; the dust is impregnated with saltpetre, and the glare of the sun almost blinds the eye. Water is wanting, and dry dung is used for fuel. In some places, however, corn, saffron, and wines are produced; and the mules of La Mancha are celebrated. The natives are jovial, honest, industrious, brave, and temperate. The scenery has become celebrated by the descriptions in “Don Quixote.”
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Manche, La

Edition of 1879. See also Manche on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ MANCHE, La, a N. W. department of France, in Normandy, bordering on the English channel and the departments of Calvados, Orne, Mayenne, and Ille-et-Vilaine; area, 2,289 sq. m.; pop. in 1872, 544,776. The coast is generally flat, and lined with swamps. There are several excellent harbors, the principal of which are Cherbourg, La Hogue, and Granville. La Manche has several short but navigable rivers, the principal of which is the Vire, and is traversed from N. to S. by a hilly range of moderate height, called Cotentin, which gives its name to the peninsular portion of the department. The rest of the surface is undulating, the soil rich, and the climate moist and mild. A prevailing crop is a species of black oats. The quantity of cider made is very great. A considerable portion of the land is under pasturage. The horses are among the best in France. Iron, lead, and coal are mined, and granite, marble, slate, and limestone are quarried. Salt is largely manufactured on the coast, and in the towns iron, zinc, copper, woollen, and cotton. The department is divided into the six arrondissements of St. Lô, Avranches, Cherbourg, Coutances, Mortain, and Valognes. Capital, St. Lô.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Maclean, Alexander

From volume 3 of the work.
​Maclean, Alexander, 1s. Henry, of London, gent. Christ Church, matric. 16 Oct., 1885, aged 18.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Maclean, John

From volume 3 of the work.
​Maclean, John, o.s. Hugh, of East Indies, gent. Pembroke Coll., matric. 11 Oct., 1861, aged 20.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Macleane, Charles Donald

From volume 3 of the work.
​Macleane, Charles Donald, 1s. Arthur John, of St. Michael's, Cambridge (town), cler. Exeter Coll., matric. 19 Oct., 1861, aged 18; scholar 1861-5, B.Mus. 1862, B.A. & D.Mus. 1865, M.A. 1879, of the Indian Civil Service 1864. See Coll. Reg., 159.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Maclean, Charles Hope

From volume 3 of the work.
​Maclean, Charles Hope, 6s. Alexander, of Stevenson, Haddington, Scotland, arm. Balliol Coll., matric. 24 May, 1822, aged 19; B.A. 1826, M.A. 1828, bar.-at-law, Middle Temple, 1829, one of the secretaries to the Statistical Society, died 14 Aug., 1839.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Maclean, Donald

From volume 3 of the work.
​Maclean, Donald, s. Fitzroy Jeffreys Grafton, of Isle of Barbados, West Indies, arm. (after bart ). Balliol Coll., matric. 6 April, 1818, aged 18; Snell exhibitioner 1882, B.A. 1823, M.A. 1827, created D.C.L. 20 June, 1844, M.P. Oxford (city) 1835-47, bar.-at-law, Lincoln's Inn, 1827, died 21 March, 1874. See Foster's Baronetage & Eton School Lists.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Macleane, Douglas

From volume 3 of the work.
​Macleane, Douglas, 3s. Arthur John, of Bath, cler. Pembroke Coll., matric. 19 May, 1875, aged 18; scholar 1875-80, B.A. 1879, M.A. 1882, fellow 1882, divinity lecturer and chaplain 1882-4, rector of Codford St. Peter's, Somerset, 1884.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Macleay, Oswell Sullivan

From volume 3 of the work.
​Macleay, Oswell Sullivan, 3s. James Robert, of London, arm. Balliol Coll., matric. 25 Jan., 1871, aged 18; B.A. 1875, M.A. 1877, bar.-at-law, Inner Temple, 1878. See Foster's Men at the Bar.