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Updated: May 6, 2025
"No fiddler has ever stood at my door but had the good word to say of me. Not one of them could ever say that he went thirsty from my counter." Said the Son of the Bard: "Fiddlers, what are fiddlers? What sound have they like the music of the sweet milk going into that can from the yellow teats of the red cow? Morning and evening there will be a hymn played upon it in the haggard.
"'They never did, your hanner; but they have heard it played of ould by the blackguard Orange fiddlers of Dublin on the first of July, when the Protestant boys used to walk round Willie's statue on College Green so if your hanner gives me the shilling they may perhaps bring out something like it. "'Very good, said I; 'begin! "'But, your hanner, what shall we do for the words?
Possibly these were handed down by ear from one to another; some perhaps have never been pent up in notes, and others may have been given to the note reader under other names than those by which the country fiddlers knew them. This is said to have been the case with "Old Zip Coon," and the names of many of them would seem to prove that they belonged to the time and the country.
King could see the fiddlers draw their bows, and the corneters lift up their horns and get red in the face, and the lean man slide his trombone, and the drummer flourish his sticks, but not a note of music reached him. It might have been a performance of ghosts for all the effect at this distance. Mr.
And the truth is, that of all the delights of the Gardens; of the hundred thousand extra lamps, which were always lighted; the fiddlers in cocked hats, who played ravishing melodies under the gilded cockle-shell in the midst of the gardens; the singers, both of comic and sentimental ballads, who charmed the ears there; the country dances, formed by bouncing cockneys and cockneyesses, and executed amidst jumping, thumping and laughter; the signal which announced that Madame Saqui was about to mount skyward on a slack-rope ascending to the stars; the hermit that always sat in the illuminated hermitage; the dark walks, so favourable to the interviews of young lovers; the pots of stout handed about by the people in the shabby old liveries; and the twinkling boxes, in which the happy feasters made-believe to eat slices of almost invisible ham of all these things, and of the gentle Simpson, that kind smiling idiot, who, I daresay, presided even then over the place Captain William Dobbin did not take the slightest notice.
She had brothers, horse- dealers, beautiful fiddlers. Suppose I learnt the fiddle? Suppose I learnt their language and went about with them and became king of the gipsies? My companion shook her head; she could not encourage this ambitious idea because she had never heard of a king of the gipsies or a queen either.
"But how are we goin' to get the money to pay up for the sports, the fireworks, and things?" "Them that hires fiddlers and dances all day and night must expect to pay said fiddlers," announced the Cap'n, oracularly. "I reckon you'll have to pass the hat for the fiddlers." "If that's the case," called the committeeman, heart-brokenly, "won't you put your name down for a little?"
These are the two Jemmys. I'll carry them myself. Not ceasing to talk and bustle, in a state of great excitement, Mr Boffin directed the removal and arrangement of the books, appearing to be in some sort beside himself until they were all deposited on the floor, and the cab was dismissed. 'There! said Mr Boffin, gloating over them. 'There they are, like the four-and-twenty fiddlers all of a row.
Sir Harry didn't 'care a rap; let them go as fast as they could. All these circumstances conspired to make them late; added to which, when Watchorn, the huntsman, cast up, which he did on a higgler's horse, he found the only sound one in his stud had gone to the neighbouring town to get some fiddlers her ladyship having determined to compliment Mr. Bugles' visit by a quadrille party.
Sponge knew where he was. When they arrived at Nonsuch House, they found Mr. Bugles exercising the fiddlers by dancing the ladies in turns. The position, then, of Mr. Sponge was this. He was left on a frosty, moonlight night at the door of a strange farmhouse, staring after a receding coach, containing all his recent companions. 'You'll not be goin' wi' 'em, then? observed Mr.
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