It has an oblong hole cut into its centre, worn smooth by centuries of use, and an inscription mounted above it tells, in plain and affecting language, exactly how it came to be there. That inscription is, in its way, as interesting as the stone itself: a Victorian widow's act of memorial, dressed up as an act of preservation.

The font was originally associated with the medieval church of Kilmactalway, a site recorded in the county Dublin historian John D'Alton's 1838 survey, where he noted it lying in the churchyard. A baptismal font, typically a basin used to hold water for the sacrament of baptism, this one was cut from granite in a straightforward, undecorated style that the 1906 account in the Journal of the Association for the Preservation of the Memorials of the Dead in Ireland described as "rude," meaning rough or unworked rather than offensive. The land at Kilmactalway had been associated with the Bagot family for generations, and it was a member of that family, Ellen Maria Bagot, who arranged for the font's removal. Her inscription records that she took it from Kilmactalway and brought it to Newcastle in memory of her husband, James John Bagot, who died on the 9th of June 1860. The text closes with a request, direct and unguarded: "Pray for him also for me."

St Finian's in Newcastle was built in 1813, and by the time Fowler documented it in 1904, the font had already been in place for some decades. The church itself is a working Catholic parish, so access to the interior is subject to opening times and services. The font stands at the west door on the north side, which means it is visible near the entrance rather than deep within the building. The inscription above it is worth reading in full; it is a rare example of a piece of salvaged medieval stonework whose entire chain of custody is documented in the object's own accompanying text.