But they are, exclusively (with the exception of the allegory of the vine and oak), wild vines, and not pumpings up of my own fancy.

That may be; but if there's a penny's worth of gas in every tumbler of water sold in the pump-room, there ought to be some sort of a canopy put over the town to catch what must escape in the pourings and pumpings, for it's too valuable to be allowed to get away.