Three Men in A Boat by Jerome K. Jerome

So George determined to postpone study of the banjo until he reached home.  But he did not get much opportunity even there.  Mrs. P. used to come up and say she was very sorry—for herself, she liked to hear him—but the lady upstairs was in a very delicate state, and the doctor was afraid it might injure the child.

Then George tried taking it out with him late at night, and practising round the square.  But the inhabitants complained to the police about it, and a watch was set for him one night, and he was captured.  The evidence against him was very clear, and he was bound over to keep the peace for six months.

He seemed to lose heart in the business after that.  He did make one or two feeble efforts to take up the work again when the six months had elapsed, but there was always the same coldness—the same want of sympathy on the part of the world to fight against; and, after awhile, he despaired altogether, and advertised the instrument for sale at a great sacrifice—“owner having no further use for same”—and took to learning card tricks instead.

It must be disheartening work learning a musical instrument.  You would think that Society, for its own sake, would do all it could to assist a man to acquire the art of playing a musical instrument.  But it doesn’t!

I knew a young fellow once, who was studying to play the bagpipes, and you would be surprised at the amount of opposition he had to contend with.  Why, not even from the members of his own family did he receive what you could call active encouragement.  His father was dead against the business from the beginning, and spoke quite unfeelingly on the subject.

My friend used to get up early in the morning to practise, but he had to give that plan up, because of his sister.  She was somewhat religiously inclined, and she said it seemed such an awful thing to begin the day like that.

So he sat up at night instead, and played after the family had gone to bed, but that did not do, as it got the house such a bad name.  People, going home late, would stop outside to listen, and then put it about all over the town, the next morning, that a fearful murder had been committed at Mr. Jefferson’s the night before; and would describe how they had heard the victim’s shrieks and the brutal oaths and curses of the murderer, followed by the prayer for mercy, and the last dying gurgle of the corpse.