There was water in it from the recent
rains,--water just from heaven, and therefore as holy as any water it
ever held in old Romish times. The aspect of this aged font is extremely
venerable, with moss in the basin and all over the stones; grass, and
weeds of various kinds, and little shrubs, rooted in the chinks of the
stones and between the successive steps.
At each entrance of Rock Park, where we live, there is a small Gothic
structure of stone, each inhabited by a policeman and his family; very
small dwellings indeed, with the main apartment opening directly
out-of-doors; and when the door is open, one can see the household fire,
the good wife at work, perhaps the table set, and a throng of children
clustering round, and generally overflowing the threshold. The policeman
walks about the Park in stately fashion, with his silver-laced blue
uniform and snow-white gloves, touching his hat to gentlemen who reside
in the Park. In his public capacity he has rather an awful aspect, but
privately he is a humble man enough, glad of any little job, and of old
clothes for his many children, or, I believe, for himself. One of the
two policemen is a shoemaker and cobbler. His pay, officially, is
somewhere about a guinea a week.
The Park, just now, is very agreeable to look at, shadowy with trees and
shrubs, and with glimpses of green leaves and flower-gardens through the
branches and twigs that line the iron fences.
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