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More must have had Grimm's Law stowed away somewhere about him; and that's the reason why he escaped the icebergs, the volcanoes, the cannibals, the subterranean channel monster, and arrived at last safe and sound in the land of the Kosekin.
Fortunately, at this moment, he found an empty taxicab and hailed it. "Grimm's Hotel, Jermyn Street," he directed. At least he could satisfy his mind upon one point. Grimm's Hotel is in reality a block of flats, with a restaurant attached. The restaurant is little more than a kitchen from whence meals are served to residents in their rooms. Frank's suite was on the third floor, and Mr.
At seventy, with her snowy hair, little face that had gone into as many lines as a dried pippin, bent, fragile body and tiny hands twisted by rheumatism, she looked like one of the old women in a Grimm's fairy tale who frightened children and scared animals and turned giants into cowards.
A new set of shelves had been put up, and all Blanche's books were arranged on them her story books on the top and her lesson books on the lower shelves. Marjory feasted her eyes upon the collection. Here were Blanche's old favourites, amongst them Grimm's "Fairy Tales," and Hans Andersen's, "Alice in Wonderland," "Black Beauty," and many others.
Grimm and Miss Thorne rose together. For an instant her slim white hand rested on Mr. Grimm's sleeve and she stared into his eyes understandingly with a little of melancholy in her own. They left Mr. Grimm there.
We know too well what regular Democracy is, to like either of the two faces which each shows by turns under the same hood. Everybody remembers Baron Grimm's story of the Parisian showman, who in 1789 exhibited the royal Bengal tiger under the new character of national, as more in harmony with the changed order of things.
"There are bad men in the world, Jerry," I replied coolly. "Like John Silver?" "Not precisely. Silver's only a character. This didn't really happen, you know, Jerry. It's fiction." "Fiction!" "A story, like Grimm's tales." "Oh!" His jaw dropped and he stared at me. "What a pity!" I had wanted to stir in him a knowledge of evil and chose the picturesque as being the least unpleasant.
He is the author of Grimm's law of consonant permutation which laid the foundations of modern philological science and is the founder of philological science in general. The two brothers began their collecting activities under the influence of Arnim, and their work with folk-tales in prose corresponds to The Boy's Magic Horn in verse.
In a paroxysm he sent Grimm's letter back to him, with three or four lines in the same key. He wrote note after note to Madame d'Houdetot, in shrieks. "Have I a single friend left, man or woman? One word, only one word, and I can live." A day or two later: "Think of the state I am in. I can bear to be abandoned by all the world, but you! You who know me so well!
But my library is not particularly rich in those books which illustrate the literary history of his times. I have Rousseau, and Marmontel's Memoirs, and Madame du Deffand's Letters, and perhaps a few other works which would be of use. But Grimm's Correspondence, and several other volumes of memoirs and letters, would be necessary.
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