Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1889-03-06
THE WHITE WRATH
ENTHE ROUyD TOWER

| w l6D Idut ASQJO0, JQ6 arIlSI, a0nOunc
ed that he was going to spend the sum
mer in the Round Tower, his old house
keeper, Mrs. Drudgitt, at once announced
her intention of leaving.
"Aint you never heard it was haunted?'
she asked. can old man, furriner, wa;
buried somewhere on the shore. He was
wrecked on the return trip on these sands
and they say his wrath walks about oi
nights. You couldn't get me to live there
for all the gold in the Injys."
Paul Ashton laughed and went to tht
Round Tower with his valet, tactituru
Swiss, who believed neither IN Heaven mol
Hades.
The Round Tower was an old stone struct.
ure, whose base was overfowed by the
sea, and stood on the end of sandy point.
Every one stared in amazement at Paul
Ashton when it was known that he intend
ed to summer in the Tower, for it had al.
ways borne q bad name.
''He won't stay long, said old Miles Mer
ritt, the fisherman. The White Old Mar
will drive him away just as he's drove ma.
ny Others"
But Paul Ashton rather enjoyed the sit.
uation. He liked the rush and rock of the
waves, the howl of the winds, the dance OF
the white caps, and the orange glory of the
sunsets streaming athwart the heaving
fl ,or of the deep. He wrote, sketched,
unused, dashed off spasmodic attempts at
poetry, and practiced rowing when the wa
ter was calm; and through it all he enter
tanned sovereign disbelief in the White
Old Man.
Until one chill night in early Summer he
came into the round chamber, where Alex
had lighted a fire Of driftwood, according
to his masters orders. June, though it was,
the blaze was far from disagreeable; and
upon the hearth, strongly defined in the
upward glimmer of the blaze, there sat
an Old Man.
An Old Man with a curious steeple shap-
ed hat tipped over his brows, furred man
tie thrown picturesque'y across one shoul'
der, and averted face, seeming to warm hi 1
hands over tho fire. To Ashtou's iDfinite
amazsment all this shape was in curious
cloud-ike mist, and colored of d pearl
white.
Aud as he looked the old man had disap.
peared.
Gan optical delusion,'' said Ashton to
himself. 81 must be bilious. l need a
course of blue pills and Mills System CT
Logic!'
BIT the next evening, close on the mag
IL
ths work in which he had become vitality
interested, he saw-,he White Old Man
again!
This time he stood, instead Of sitting
this time it seemed to point downward to
the hearth this tina it tglowsd with pearly
light of IA livid nature.
Ashton rubbed his eyes and started up,
and As he did so the strange apparition
vanished.
Aud the third night, at the same hoar,
as Ashton started out of his sleep. he saw,
strangely iluminatei by the stormy moou-
light, the White Old Man yet third time,
standing on the hearth, still pointing down
ward with a steady finger.
Il will know what this means," said
Ashton, dsterminedly.
1t was early in the morning. The tide
was high, ard Alex had rowed across To
the headland to renew their stock of fresh
fruits, I:lilk and provisions, and the coas;
was clear for his operations. With the
help Of q crowbar he easily pried up the old
hearth.stones.
"My old friend seems somehow disturb
ed in bis mind about this particular por-
tion of the room," said he to himself
"Perhaps can help him out of his mental
perturbation"
There, firmly set into the cement below
the stones, was a small iron box, eaten and
corroded with rust, aud in the box was me-
thodcally piled up heaps of old Spanish
doubloons, with faded piece of paper on
top, in which was wrapped blue ribbon,
a lock of tawny gold hair, and withered
flower.
And the White Old Man never appeared
again.
ga ghost story Yes, l suppose it is a
ghost story, or what people would call one,
Ashton uuwillingly admitted, when the
world of curious gossipers aud sensation
hunters questioned him as TO the story of
his hidden treasures.
''But don't doub5 bu. chat great deal
of this sort of thing eau be explained by
the theory of mesmerism, animal magnet
ism, aud all that sort OF thing. did see
the phantom of white, cloudy sort of an
old man-and I did fiud pot OF gold un-
der the tiles of the hearth. These are the
facts; make the most you can out of 'em,
What became of the money? believe the
town has appropriate it TO the founding
of a public library The Round Tower Je-
longs to the town authorities, and l don't
see what better use they can mako OF this
treasure trOye."
For little while the Round Tower was
famous. Reporters lowered around the fa-
nous rocky foundations, artists from the
illustrated newspapers perched themselves
on uncomfortable camp stools to sketch it's
picturesque walls, treasure diggers brought
their spades and Mr.. Ashton gave up his
lease iu disgust.
'sThe ghost wasn't half as bad as his
consequences" he said.
And he IS now living in New York,
with Mrs. Drudgitt presiding once more
over his kitchen. And nobody has ever
yet satisfactorily accounted for the strange
story of the White Old Man.
"Hew much will you give me on this
overcoatP asked a seedy-looking man of the
fuuc. onary in the pawnbroker's shop.