A RILL FROM THE TOWN-PUMP.


(SCENE, _the corner of two principal streets_,[1] _the_ TOWN-PUMP
_talking through its nose_.)


Noon by the north clock! Noon by the east! High noon, too, by these
hot sunbeams, which full, 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 tough time of it! And among all the
town-officers chosen at March meeting, where is he that sustains 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, as guardian of the best treasure that the town has.
The overseers of the poor ought to make me their chairman, since I
provide bountifully for the pauper without expense to him that pays
taxes. I am at the head of the fire department and one of the
physicians to 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
they are posted on my front. To speak within bounds, I am the chief
person of the municipality, and exhibit, moreover, an admirable
pattern to my brother-officers by the cool, steady, upright, downright
and impartial discharge of my business 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,