“When is he going to bring on the wioleen?” whispered
Mrs. Partington to a neighbor, at the Melodeon,
after listening through the first part of Ole Bull's concert.

“That 's it, ma'am, which he is now playing on.”

“Why, that 's a fiddle, a'n't it? Good gracious!
why can't they call things by their right names?”

And she left the hall, saying to the door-keeper, as
she passed, that it was only a fiddle after all.

p677-245

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