When o'er the hills, like a gladsome bride, As he freshens his wing in the cold grey cloud; But when evening has quitted her sheltering yew, Her dusky meshes o'er land and sea How gently, O sleep, fall thy poppies on me! The disciples of the Pump will hardly require an apology from us for presenting them with the following beautiful speech of our ONE armed Friend, slightly altered and abridged from the "New England Magazine." [Scene. The corner of two principal streets. The TOWN-PUMP, talking through its nose.] NOON, by the north clock! Noon, by the east! High noon, too, by the hot sun beams which fall, scarcely aslope upon my head, and almost make the water bubble and smoke in the trough under my nose. Truly, we public characters have a rough time of it! Among all the town officers, who sustain for a single year, the burden of such manifold duties as are imposed in perpetuity upon the Town Pump; the title of Town-Treasurer is rightfully mine and as guardian of the best L treasure the Town has, the overseers of the poor ought to make me their Chairman, since I provide bountifully to the pauper, without expense to the ratepayer. I am at the head of the firedepartment, and one of the Physicians of the Board of Health. As a keeper of the peace, all water drinkers will confess me equal to the constable. I perform some of the duties of the Town Clerk, by promulgating public notices, when pasted on my front. To speak within bounds, I am chief person of the Municipality, and exhibit an admirable pattern to my brother officers, by the cool, steady, upright, downright, and impartial discharge of my duties, and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or winter, nobody seeks me in vain: for, all day long I am seen at the busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my arms to rich and poor alike; and at night, I hold a lantern over my head, both to show where I am and keep people out of the gutters. At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the parched populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist. I cry aloud to all and sundry in my plainest accents, and at the very tiptop of my voice. Here it is, gentlemen! here is the good liquor !— Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, walk up, walk up! Here is the superior stuff! Here is the unadulterated ale of father Adam-better than Cognac, Hollands, Jamaica, strong Beer, Wine, Tea, Coffee, or Cocoa! Here it is by the Hogshead or the Glass, and not a farthing to pay! Walk up gentlemen, and help yourselves! It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no customers. Here they come. A hot day, gentlemen, quaff, and away again, so as to keep yourselves in a nice cool sweat. You, my friend, will need another cupful to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is on your shoes. I see you have trudged half-a-score miles to-day; and a wise man, have passed by the taverns, and stopped at the running brooks. Otherwise, betwixt heat without, and fire within, you would have been burnt to a cinder, or melted down to nothing at all, in the fashion of a jelly fish. Drink and make room for that fellow who seeks my aid to quench the fiery fever of last night's potations, which he drained from no cup of mine. Welcome, most rubicand sir! You and I have been great strangers, hitherto; nor, to confess the truth, will my nose be anxious for a closer intimacy, till the fumes of your breath be a little less potent. Mercy on you, man! The water absolutely hisses down your red hot gullet, and is converted quite into steam in the miniature Tophet which you mistake for a stomach. Fill again, and tell me, did you ever, in beer shop, tavern, or dram-shop, spend the price of your childrens' food, for a swig half so delicious? Now, for the first time these ten years, you know the flavour of cold water. Good bye! and whenever you are thirsty, remember that I keep a constant supply at the old stand. What next! Oh, my little friend, you are let loose from school, and come hither to scrub your blooming face, and drown the memory of certain taps of the ferule, and other school-boy troubles; take it, and may your heart and tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than now! There, my dear, put down the cup, and yield your place to this elderly gentleman, who treads so tenderly over the paving stones, that I suspect he is afraid of breaking them. What! He limps by, without so much as thanking me, as if my hospitable offers were only meant for people who have no wine cellars. Well, well, sir, no harm done, I hope! Go, draw the cork, tip the decanter; but when your great toe shall set you a-roaring, it will be no affair of mine. If gentlemen love the pleasant titillation of the gout, it is all one to the Town Pump. This thirsty dog with his red tongue lolling out, does not scorn my hospitality, but stands on his hind-legs and laps eagerly out of the trough. See how lightly he capers away again. Jowler, had you ever the gout? Then wipe your mouths, my good friends; and, while my spout has a moment's leisure, I will delight you with a few historical reminiscences. In far famed antiquity, beneath a darksome shadow of venerable boughs, a spring bubbled out of the leaf-strewn earth, in the very spot where you now behold me on the sunny pavement. The water was as bright and clear, and deemed as precious as liquid diamonds. Your primitive forefathers drank of it from time immemorial, when the art of preparing the accursed draught was unknown in the land. The young and greyheaded often knelt down on the grass beside the spring, and drank of its cool and refreshing stream. For many years it was the watering-place, and as it were the washbowl of the vicinity, whither all decent folks resorted, to purify their visages, and gaze at least the pretty maidens did, in the mirror it made. On Sabbath days, whenever a babe was to be baptized, the sexton filled his basin here, and placed it on the communion table of the humble church, which partly covered the site of yonder stately edifice. Thus, one generation after another was consecrated to heaven by its waters, and cast their waxing and waning shadows into its glassy bosom and vanished from the earth, as if mortal life were but a flitting image in a fountain! Finally, the fountain vanished also, cellars were dug on all sides, and cart loads of gravel were flung upon its source, whence oozed a turpid stream, forming a puddle in the corner of two streets. In the hot months, when its refreshment was most needed, the dust flew in clouds over the forgotten birthplace of the waters, now their grave. But in the course of time a Town-Pump was sunk into the source of its ancient spring. When the first decayed, another took its place, then another, and still another-till here I stand, Ladies and Gentlemen, to serve you. Drink and be refreshed! -the water is as pure and cold as that which slaked the thirst of your venerable ancestors, beneath the aged boughs, though now the gem of the wilderness is treasured under these hot stones, where no shadow falls but from the brick buildings. And be it the moral of my story that as this wasted and long lost fountain is now known and prized again, so shall the virtues of cold water too little valued since our fathers days, be yet recognised by all. Your pardon, good people! I must interrupt any stream of eloquence, and spout forth a stream of water to replenish the trough for this drover and his oxen, who have come from afar. No part of my business is pleasanter than the watering of cattle. Look how rapidly they lower the water-mark on the sides of the trough, till their capacious stomachs are moistened with a gallon or two a-piece, and they can afford time to breathe it in with sighs of calm enjoyment. Now they roll their quiet eyes around the brim of their monstrous drinking vessel. An ox is your true toper. But I perceive, my dear auditors, that you are impatient for the remainder of my discourse. Impute it, I beseech you, to no defect of modesty, if I insist a little longer on so fruit |