Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1890-10-10
BITS or ENTERTAINHENT.
A Might in n Haunted Tower.

Might in n Haunted Tower.
At the abbey there is a tower-at least il
seems like tower from within, although il
does not look it from without-which Lord
Byron and others believed to be haunted by
ghostly visitant in cowl and sandals. The
poet claims to have seen this ghost short
time before his marriage to Miss Milbanke.
Washington Irving says 'his mind was
tinged with superstition, and his innate in
trinity was perhaps increased by passing
much of his time in the lonely halls and
cloisters of the abbey, then in a ruinous
and melancholy state, and brooding over
the skulls and effigies Of its former inmates. n
More than once you find allusion to this
ghost IN Lord Byron's poems.
| wanted to see if it was in the power of
any being to bridge over that awful dark
ness that lies at the end of all earthly Jour
neys, and determined to seize the first op-
portunity to take up my abode if possible
in Lord Byron's apartments The Princess
OF Wales had recently left the abbey, and
as we sat at dinner Mrs Webb told a comic
little incident connected with the Princess :
visit to the haunted tower. The three rooms
are reached by ascending narrow spiral
stairway that winds giddy course around
gloomy column. These rooms have no
other egress or ingress, and two maids
happened to be in them when the Princess
at the head of her party, parasol in hand,
and laughing at the idea of meeting a ghost
-unheralded, hastily entered. Passing
through the dressing room, and then the
spacious bedroom, furnished as far as posi-
ble with the appointments used by the poet,
she passed on to the pages room, and here
she poked her parasol into deep, dark
curtained alcove, saying TO the party press
ing after her, But | want to see the ghost. -
Horrors the point of her parasol struck a
solid body there was screech and a
scream, and the Princess fell back into the
arms of the coming king while a pretty
rosy maid fell forward on her knees before
the Princess, piteously begging her pardon.
And do you know, | too want 10 see the
ghost of Newstead.
| said this with so much earnestness that
a man in black, with a clerical air, put up
his glass, and looked at me with great EN-
phasis
But you would not like to sleep there in
the haunted room :" protested a dozen
voices, curiously.
Il should like nothing better"
Then you shall be moved in there at
once. 1t is the prettiest and pleasantest
part of the abbey, else Lord Byron would
not have spent so many years in it, But
you must sleep there also for promise
you that the only ghosts you will ever see
at Newstead will be those you see in your
sleep laughed the good -natured lady.
When the ladies left us at our walnuts
and wine, so much was said on the subject
that felt pretty certain that others there
had an equally deep interest with myself in
the ghost The apartment was made ready
for my reception the next day, and l was
to spend that night in the very bed of Lord
Byron, waiting for the black friar of New
stead Abbey. The man with the clerical
look led me aside by the sleeve after din
ner, and hooking his glasses over his nose,
talked to me long and earnestly about
ghosts, from the Witch of Endor down to the
modern appartions which spiritualists claim
TO be familiar with. He confessed himself
to be firm believer in ghosts, and shaking
my hand cordially said he would await re
suits with breathless interest.
A little before midnight bade goodnight
to the few remaining in the drawing room,
and followed the powdered footman, with
his two great candles, up and around and
on and through the sounding halls of the
olh dbutN, dnl hl ldSl tllinDtu Ine COTk-
screw stairs and stood in the haunted rooms
The bed, with its golden coronets and
gorgeous yellow curtains that are literally
falling to pieces from age, was ready to re-
ceive me. The man placed the candles on
the table and withdrew. was alone in the
haunted chamber at the hour of midnight.
sat down at the table, the very table used
by the poet noted the date, events of the
day, and then this item, which quote from
my notebook "Slight headache ; a little
nervous don't think l am afraid, but doubt
if l can sleep don't like this at all, but
am in for it shall see something not the
black friar, but Lord Byron"
After some other trifling notes and fu-
tile attempt to write poem on the table
used by the inspired nobleman, | threw
down my pen, and walked to the deep bay
window at the west, overlooking the lake.
1t was the loveliest night possible The
moon lay on the water like silver. Soon
undressed hastily blew out one of the can
dies, and set the other by the bedside as
lay down. l did not dare to blow it out
1t takes a great deal of courage to admit
this ugly truth. The great, heavy, rich
and tattered curtains of yellow silk were
like tinder, and it was dangerous thing
to leave the candle burning, particularly
after dinner. But it did not seem to me
so dangerous just then as to blow it out /;
so, ! think, fell asleep.
Suddenly heard, or rather felt, the door
slowly open. l looked straight ahead as
lay there, but did not move. figure en-
tered from the other door, but l could not
see it. felt it stop at the table. Then
felt it advancing upon me where lay.
distinctly heard the clink of two candle
sticks. Then | felt, or rather saw, that my
light was being slowly and certainly with
drawn, | cautiously turned my head, and
was just in time to see the patient footman,
who had been waiting all the time outside,
bearing away the lighted candle Oh, how
ashamed | was
When opened my eyes next morning, or
rather next noon, what a vision of beauty!
Swan on the lake, cattle on the hills be-
yond, and sunlight and love, peace and
calm delight everywhere. | had never had
a more perfectly refreshing sleep in all my
life
The man with the glasses was waiting for
me, but | had nothing to say. could only
assure him that had seen, heard, felt moth
ing whatever. Still | could not but think
that l surely should and would receive some
sign from some one beyond the dark before
bade farewell TO the haunted rooms - From
"Nights at Nerstedd AbbeH" by joaquin
Miller, in Jfarper'S Mdgazine for October