But Lord Carlisle's kindness was all the same.

At the ball I remember Lord Carlisle's diamonds hanging like a string of glass chandelier drops at his button-hole with a Shakespeare favour, and jingling perilously for chippings as he danced: for size those half-dozen Koh-i-noors must be--foolishly--invaluable.
At Stratford Church, either then or some while after, I strangely was the means of saving Shakespeare's own baptismal font from destruction, as thus: the church had been "restored,"-- _i.e._, all its best patina was polished away; and among the "improvements," I noticed a brand new font.

"Where is the old one ?" "O sir, the mason who supplied the new one took it away." So I called and found this font--quite sacred in Shakespearean eyes as where their idol had been christened--lying broken in a corner of the yard.

Then off I went to the rector, I think it was a Mr.Granville, expostulating; and (to make the matter short) with some difficulty I got the font mended and put back again, as it certainly never should have been removed.

I have since been to Stratford, and find that they use the new font, and have put the old one in a corner of the nave.
An odd thing happened to me in the church, where at the vestry I had just signed my name as other visitors did.