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Updated: May 27, 2025


Many there were who with difficulty understood each other, as when the Scotch Campbells and Clydes of Cherry Valley, for example, essayed to talk with the bush-Germans from above Zimmerman's. Notable among the chief men of the communities here, so to speak, huddled together for safety, was old Isaac Paris, the foremost man of Stone Arabia.

It was a tall round hat from Zimmerman's, but completely worn out, rusty with age, all torn and bespattered, brimless and bent on one side in a most unseemly fashion. Not shame, however, but quite another feeling akin to terror had overtaken him. "I knew it," he muttered in confusion, "I thought so! That's the worst of all!

The number of pilgrims amounts annually to 300,000 or 400,000, and the town is one of the most wealthy in the country, through their trading, sacrifices, and gifts. This may not be an improper place to make some remarks upon the religion of these interesting people, which I extract from Zimmerman's "Handbook of Travels."

Then your name's what is it again? Hackh, isn't it? Heywood's mine. So you take Zimmerman's place. He's off already, and good riddance. He was a bounder! Charming spot you've come to! I daresay if your Fliegelmans opened a hong in hell, you might possibly get a worse station." Without change of manner, he uttered a few gabbling, barbaric words.

A dozen of the guards were yelling their protests at the invasion, and a spurt of fire preluded the booming of Zimmerman's shotgun. "Get your man into the car and beat it," I shouted to Raynor, thinking an attempt was about to be made to rescue the prisoner. The touring-car left just as a Barton taxi flashed into the driveway.

Let's see, that was over thirty years ago. Been here ever since. Tom Strong wasn't good enough for her. Too religious. He was the feller that led the mob that wiped out Tony Zimmerman's saloon soon after I came here. I'll never forget that night.

Whenever you feel yourself overborne by passion, you have only to repeat the Lord's prayer, and you will be able to reduce it to a steady and permanent flame. By adopting Zimmerman's rule, we shall, as I have already observed, gain time for reflection, than which nothing more is needed.

Zimmerman's office above the electric cars of Broadway, and within earshot of the hoots of many a multimillionaire's motor, on a certain evening something of an Oriental character was doing in the hallway of a house on Washington Street that subsequently played a part in the professional lives of Tutt & Tutt.

When, growing tired of their carriage, the Callenders and Mandeville walked, and Kincaid unexpectedly joined them, fairyland was the only name he could find for it, and Anna, in response, could find none at all. Mallard's, Zimmerman's, Clark's, Levois's, Laroussini's, Moody's, Hyde & Goodrich's, and even old Piffet's were all aglow. One cannot recount half.

We soon after beheld one of the most magnificent scenes of which Switzerland can boast, the view of the lake of Zurich, from the hill above the village of Horgen. As it was evening when we arrived there, I could judge of the justness of Zimmerman's beautiful description of it at that time, which I had often admired at a period when I had but faint expectation of ever seeing the scene itself.

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