There is a story behind this inkwell. I remember when dad got it. We were on holidays in St. John's and were in Bowring Park(this was probably in the early 70's). There was an old house in the park, I believe it belonged to Sir Richard Squires but I am not sure. We went in the house, it was falling down and full of rubble. There were a lot of inkwells like this in there, most of them were broken. Dad found a good one and took it. I seem to recall he was talking to someone who worked at the park so he probably was allowed to take it and didn't just steal it. The inkwell was kept on one of the end tables in the living room. It just sat there for years, no one ever put anything in it like a pen. Whenever someone new would come to the house Dad would always get them to guess what it was.