Over the dial is a gilt group, representing Jesus Christ and the Samaritan woman near Jacob's well, pourtrayed by a basin into which falls a sheet of water issuing from a shell above. Under the basin is the following inscription: _Fons Hortorum Puteus aquarum viventium._ These words of the Gospel are here not unaptly applied to the destination of this building, which is to furnish water to the garden of the _Tuileries_, whose basins were not, on that account, the less dry half the year. The water is raised by means of a pump, and afterwards distributed, by several conduits, to the _Louvre_ and the _Palais du Tribunat_, as well as to the _Tuileries_. In the middle, and above the arch, is a superstructure of timber-work faced with gilt lead, where are the bells of the clock and those of chimes, which ought to play every half-hour. This tasteless edifice interrupts the view in every direction and as it is far from being an ornament to the _Pont Neuf_, no one could now regret its entire removal. Under the old _régime_, however, it was nothing less than a government. Among the functions of the governor, were included the care of the clock, which scarcely ever told the hour, and that of the chimes, which were generally out of order. When these chimes used to delight Henry IV, it is to be presumed that they were kept in better tune. It was customary to make them play during all public ceremonies, and especially when the king passed. "The _Pont Neuf_, is in the city of Paris what the heart is in the human body, the centre of motion and circulation: the flux and reflux of inhabitants and strangers crowd this passage in such a manner, that, in order to meet persons one is looking for, it is sufficient to walk here for an hour every day. Here, the _mouchards_, or spies of the police, take their station; and, when at the expiration of a few days, they see not their man, they positively affirm that he is not in Paris." Such was the animated picture of the _Pont Neuf_, as drawn by Mercier in 1788, and such it really was before the revolution. At present, though this bridge is sometimes thronged with passengers, it presents not, according to my observation, that almost continual crowd and bustle for which it was formerly distinguished. No stoppage now from the press of carriages of any description, no difficulty in advancing quickly through the concourse of pedestrians. Fruit-women, hucksters, hawkers, pedlars, indeed, together with ambulating venders of lottery-tickets, and of _tisane_, crying "_à la fraiche! Qui veut boire?_" here take their stand as they used, though not in such numbers.