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Updated: May 10, 2025
"Yes, do come," added Kate. "Will you sing again?" he asked, bluntly. "Yes, indeed," she replied, with a slight blush, "if you want me to." "I will come. When? To-morrow night?" "Yes, certainly, to-morrow night," said Kate, blushing deeply now, for she noticed the slight smile on Harry's face, and the glance that passed between Mr. Sims and the lieutenant. Then Ranald said good night.
On the other hand, what Sims or Bateman ever imagined weirder caricature than the grotesque larva of the Oniticella, with its extravagant dorsal hump; or the fantastic and alarming silhouette of the Empusa, with its scaly belly raised crozierwise and mounted on four long stilts, its pointed face, turned-up moustaches, great prominent eyes, and a "stupendous mitre": the most grotesque, the most fantastic freaks that creation can ever have evolved?
Sims; "it requires a stretch of the imagination to believe it, does it not? You can speak to them as we pass by. All these here are harmless." "Shall we cross the garden?" "Our invalid is below there, in another garden, behind that house." As he passed by, Zilah glanced curiously at these poor beings, who bowed, or exchanged a few words with the two physicians.
Sims shared the opinion of his colleague. Having taken the invalid away, and separated her from every thing that could recall the past, the physicians thought, that, by suddenly confronting her with a person so dear to her as Prince Zilah, the shock and emotion might rouse her from her morbid state.
I find some difficulty in getting along with all the questions that may be raised by the north or by the south, and by lawyers, and by metaphysicians, and learned doctors who abound here, that I shall be slow in getting along. I hope, therefore, that gentlemen will keep cool, and suffer me to get through." ... Certainly, Sims there is no false modesty, you will observe, in this good Sims.
'He always used to tip me a sovereign, and Ben Bowyer, the dog-fancier, said Stingo was worth thirty shillings any day, only he let me have him for eight and six, because he wanted to sell off his stock. 'I thought as much. And Sims keeps him for you? 'At ninepence a week; but the brute is at me for ever, and says it is twelve weeks. 'Pray, how were you to raise ninepence a week?
He rode like Nimrod, danced like Terpsichore, drove like Jehu, shot like William Tell, and sang like Sims Reeves. It was in the latter accomplishment, however, that he chiefly excelled; he would stand up at the end of a crowded drawing-room, and, playing a delicate accompaniment on his guitar, would vocalize one of the passionate love-songs of his native land.
In forty-eight hours Draxy had rented one half of his house, made a contract with a carpenter for the building of a kitchen and out-buildings on the north side of it, engaged board at the Elder's table for her parents and herself for a month, and hired Bill Sims to be her father's head man for one year. All the while she seemed as modestly grateful to the Elder as if he had done it all for her.
"Nell, don't let that little affair o' yours with Sims be known," he said, quietly. "Have that kept quiet if you can." Mr. Jenkins started as though he had been stung. In the joy of a case he had overlooked one or two things. He turned and regarded the young man wistfully. "Don't call on me as a witness, that's all," continued Mr. Drill.
No, Sims, my lad; it would not do to have both idiots." "I saw Mr Strachan last, from all I can make out," said another man; "send me, sergeant." "Ah, yes, Davis, you will do. Where was it though?" "It was in the nullah, sergeant.
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