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By turning their heads they could see through another window, along an alleyway that ran behind the Main Street stores and into the back door of Abner Groff's bakery. Sometimes as they sat thus a picture of village life presented itself to them. At the back door of his shop appeared Abner Groff with a stick or an empty milk bottle in his hand.
The Groff dam near Herkimer broke and several houses were carried away. A dam at Canajoharie threatened to go out. Three great canal gates at Fort Plain were swept away. The Amsterdam reservoir, which covers 680 acres, was weakened and a patrol was stationed there. So great was the flood in Troy, on the Hudson below the entrance of the Mohawk, that martial law was practically declared.
It exists only in one papyrus, that of Madame d'Orbiney, purchased by the British Museum in 1857. The papyrus had belonged to Sety II. when crown prince, and hence is of the XIXth Dynasty. Most of the great scholars of this age have worked at it: De Rouge, Goodwin, Renouf, Chabas, Brugsch, Ebers, Maspero, and Groff have all made original studies on it.
He was lonely and had begun to think that loneliness was a part of his character, something that would always stay with him. Stepping into a side hall he stood by a window that looked into an alleyway. At the back of his shop stood Abner Groff, the town baker. His tiny bloodshot eyes looked up and down the alleyway. In his shop someone called the baker, who pretended not to hear.
"I cannot jest on so serious a matter," he said, resolving to make the attempt to re-establish his dignity with Alice. "I think, Miss Groff, that you perhaps hardly know how absurd your supposition is. There are not many men of distinction in Europe with whom my cousin is not personally acquainted.
Rome, 1893, en 8vo. M'lle Florence Groff. Les sept dormants, La ville de Tram, et l'excursion contre la Makke, Alger, 1891, en 8vo. It is thus that a literature in Spain sadly ends which, during seven centuries, had counted historians and poets, philologists, philosophers and savants, and which the Christian literature replacing it can possibly equal in some points, but never surpass.
He wasn't particularly interested in what was going on, and sometimes wondered if he would ever be particularly interested in anything. Now, as he stood in the half-darkness by the window watching the baker, he wished that he himself might become thoroughly stirred by something, even by the fits of sullen anger for which Baker Groff was noted.
"An' ane o' them 's an ill wuman, sure eneuch; but I ken naething aboot the tither only 'at she maun be a leddy, by the w'y the howdy wife spak till her." An' gien ye dinna ken her, that's no rizzon 'at I sudna hae a groff guiss at her by the marks ye read aff o' her. I'll jist hae to tell ye a story sic as an auld wife like me seldom tells till a young man like yersel'."
He might as well write hand-shoe for glove, in a translation from the German. Elsewhere Jamieson errs in preferring groff to great, and the more that groff means more properly coarse than large. The following couplet is also from Dr. Prior's translation of this ballad: "They cried one evening till the sound Their mother heard beneath the ground." Jamieson has it, Again, Dr. Prior gives us,
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