No； these are trifles， compared with the merits whichwise men concede to me—if not in my single self， yetas the representative of a class—of being the grandreformer of the age. From my spout， and such spoutsas mine， must flow the stream that shall cleanse ourearth of the vast portion of its crime and anguish whichhas gushed from the fiery fountains of the still. In thismighty enterprise the cow shall be my great confederate.
Milk and water—the TOWN-PUMP and the Cow！
Such is the glorious copartnership that shall tear downthe distilleries and brewhouses， uproot the vineyards，shatter the cider-presses， ruin the tea and coffee trade，and finally monopolize the whole business of quenchingthirst. Blessed consummation！ Then Poverty shall passaway from the land， finding no hovel so wretched whereher squalid form may shelter herself. Then Disease， forlack of other victims， shall gnaw its own heart and die.
Then Sin， if she do not die， shall lose half her strength.
Until now the frenzy of hereditary fever has raged in thehuman blood， transmitted from sire to son and rekindledin every generation by fresh draughts of liquid flame.
When that inward fire shall be extinguished， the heat ofpassion cannot but grow cool， and war—the drunkennessof nations—perhaps will cease. At least， there will be nowar of households. The husband and wife， drinking deepof peaceful joy—a calm bliss of temperate affections—shall pass hand in hand through life and lie down notreluctantly at its protracted close. To them the past willbe no turmoil of mad dreams， nor the future an eternityof such moments as follow the delirium of the drunkard.
Their dead faces shall express what their spirits were andare to be by a lingering smile of memory and hope.
Ahem！ Dry work， this speechifying， especially to anunpractised orator. I never conceived till now what toilthe temperance lecturers undergo for my sake； hereafterthey shall have the business to themselves. —Do， somekind Christian， pump a stroke or two， just to wet mywhistle. —Thank you， sir！ —My dear hearers， when theworld shall have been regenerated by my instrumentality，you will collect your useless vats and liquor-casks into onegreat pile and make a bonfire in honor of the town-pump.
And when I shall have decayed like my predecessors， then，if you revere my memory， let a marble fountain richlysculptured take my place upon this spot. Such monumentsshould be erected everywhere and inscribed with thenames of the distinguished champions of my cause. Now，listen， for something very important is to come next.
There are two or three honest friends of mine—and truefriends I know they are—who nevertheless by their fierypugnacity in my behalf do put me in fearful hazard of abroken nose， or even a total overthrow upon the pavementand the loss of the treasure which I guard. —I pray you，gentlemen， let this fault be amended. Is it decent， thinkyou， to get tipsy with zeal for temperance and take upthe honorable cause of the town-pump in the style of atoper fighting for his brandy-bottle？ Or can the excellentqualities of cold water be no otherwise exemplified thanby plunging slapdash into hot water and woefully scaldingyourselves and other people？ Trust me， they may. In themoral warfare which you are to wage—and， indeed， inthe whole conduct of your lives—you cannot choose abetter example than myself， who have never permitted thedust and sultry atmosphere， the turbulence and manifolddisquietudes， of the world around me to reach that deep，calm well of purity which may be called my soul. Andwhenever I pour out that soul， it is to cool earth’s fever orcleanse its stains.
One o’clock！ Nay， then， if the dinner-bell begins tospeak， I may as well hold my peace. Here comes a prettyyoung girl of my acquaintance with a large stone pitcherfor me to fill. May she draw a husband while drawingher water， as Rachel did of old！ —Hold out your vessel，my dear！ There it is， full to the brim； so now run home，peeping at your sweet image in the pitcher as you go， andforget not in a glass of my own liquor to drink “SUCCESSTO THE TOWN-PUMP.”
