A report from the Bradford Observer, 1857
In a village near Barnsley are two rival bands of musicians, which, for a length of time, have “kicked up no small din” by what is called “practising.” Lately one of the players belonging to the older of the two bands, it would appear, got married, and thus for several weeks deserted his musical companions to spend the honeymoon, when he again resumed his ophicleide, and by way of making up for lost time, he stayed at home two days to practice. His wife, who was almost distracted by the horrid noise he made by his playing, and, thinking it would be more to his credit to be at work, remonstrated with him, but to no use. He told her to mind her own business, for he loved his ophicleide as well, if not better, than he loved her. This provoked the young wife so much that she was determined to be revenged for it; and, the other night, on the would-be-musician getting into his four-poster, he found a very cold bed fellow in the shape of the ophicleide, which his wife had managed to put there to testhis love, and to see if he really did like the ophicleide better than her. It, however, turned out that the wife gained the day, as the ophicleide was disposed of by private contract on the following morning.