head and stood on my nose, just as if I had no feelings. I
heard a young lady in the gallery overhead say, 'Well, that horrid old
pump will soon be out of the way now.' And a city father answered her,
'Of course.' It was a workin' then--treason and fate, and all them
things. I knew they were going to 'put me out of my misery,' as the
saying goes. I'm getting superannuated--I heard 'em say so. Sometimes
an office boy tastes a drop, and then turns up his nose,--as if it
wasn't pug enough before,--and says, 'What horrid stuff! the
Cochituate for my money!' General Washington's canteen was filled
here--and he said, 'Delicious!' when he raised it to his lips. But he
was no judge, of course not. Time was when I wasn't slow but I'm not
fast enough for this generation. When folks write letters with
lightning, and sail ships with tea-kettles, pumps can't come it over
'em. Well, well, I'll hold out to the last--I'll make 'em carry me off
and bury me decently at the city's expense, and perhaps some kind old
friend will write my epitaph."

The old pump was mute--the speech was ended--its "song had died into
an echo." We passed on mournful and thoughtful. Republics are
ungrateful--old friends are forgotten with a change of fashion, and
there is a period to the greatness of town pumps as well as the glory
of individuals.

THE TWO PORTRAITS.

"Beautiful! beautiful!" exclaimed Ernest Lavalle, as, throwing himself
back in his chair, he contemplated, with eyes half shut, a lovely
countenance that smiled on him from a canvas, to which he had just
added a few hesitating touches. It was but a sketch--little more than
outline and dead coloring, and a misty haze seemed spread over the
face, so that it looked vision-like and intangible. The young
painter's exclamation was not addressed to his workmanship--he was not
even looking at that faint image; but, through its medium, was gazing
on lineaments as rare and fascinating as ever floated through a poet's
or an artist's dream. Deep, lustrous blue eyes, in whose depth
sincerity and feeling lay crystallized; features as regular as those
of a Grecian statue; a lip melting, ripe, and dewy, half concealing,
half revealing, a line of pearls; soft brown hair, descending in waves
upon a neck and shoulders of satin surface and Parian firmness. Such
were some of the external traits of loveliness belonging to

"A creature not too bright and good
For human nature's daily food,"

who