My Impressions of America
"It's a concert hall, madam, built for oratorios," they replied, pointing to a vast organ decorating the wall behind me.
"No doubt drums, trumpets, or opera singers could make themselves heard, but a shrimp of a female standing alone here would make the gods laugh, and nothing will induce me to speak!"
"But, dear madam, all Boston is coming to hear you."
Mr. Horton put his arm through mine, saying soothingly, "You are tired; let us go back to the hotel."
Visibly distressed, the gentlemen o