old abbey were cleared away; place was given to the levelling hand of time; a hostlery arose near to the place whereon the fountain stood, a part of which occupied the very spot. Still, however, the spring bubbled forth by fits and starts,—its waters sometimes clear, sometimes turbid. It was turned into a tank or pool; and while horses slackened their thirst, their masters increased theirs by the strong waters of the inn; and there were carousals, and debaucheries, and strifes, and murders upon a place which had once been considered holy. Fire came during an intoxicating season—the season when peace on earth and good-will towards man was proclaimed. The hostlery was burnt down—the pure spring was smothered—and its very site, after a lapse of years, forgotten. At last foundations were dug—a new town sprang up over the old—a church and market-house took the place of the old abbey—and a Temperance Hotel that of the Inn. The old spring bubbled up again, in delight, at the improved prospect. But it now lay on the earth, yet higher on Sabbath-days. Whenever a baby was to be baptised, the sexton came and filled his basin, and placed it on the font in the baptistry of the church: and hither, too, came the pious deacon of the chapel, with his rude basin of delf, for the same holy purpose. Thus, one generation after another was consecrated to heaven by its waters, and cast their waning shadows into its crystal bosom. But in course of time another change took place; a greedy bricklayer of a churchwarden, who wanted a job out of the parish, proposed to build over the spring; and cartloads of bricks and high mountains of mortar incased it on every side. The spring was effectually brick-bound, and upon it arose the Town Pump, with its spout and handle of iron, and a gas-light above it, and a stone cistern below, on which appeared, in all the emblazoning of municipal grandeur—“Erected in 1848: Job Trick and Giles Keen, Churchwardens.” Then let us drink the health of these worthy gentlemen, and success to their better motives. Drink then again, my friends, to the cause of Temperance; drink to the cause of peace all the world over; drink to the cause of righteousness; to that of pure religion, drawn from the fountain-head of Him who called himself the “Living Water.” Pump away, while you have life, in the cause of Truth! Pump away, my lads, for all that thirst! Let our Town Pump be our Physician, our Town Councillor, our Keeper of the Peace, and our best resource when we are sick, sad, or thirsty. [Illustration] The Youthful Nelson. [Illustration: NELSON’S SCHOOL-HOUSE.]