have been in a most wild, shaggy, tumble-down condition, inside
and out, when he bought it.

It is very different now. After showing us these two apartments of Byron
and his servant, the housekeeper led us from one to another and another
magnificent chamber, fitted up in antique style, with oak paneling, and
heavily carved bedsteads, of Queen Elizabeth's time, or of the Stuarts,
hung with rich tapestry curtains of similar date, and with beautiful old
cabinets of carved wood, sculptured in relief, or tortoise-shell and
ivory. The very pictures and realities, these rooms were, of stately
comfort; and they were called by the names of kings--King Edward's, King
Charles II.'s, King Henry VII.'s, chamber; and they were hung with
beautiful pictures, many of them portraits of these kings. The
chimney-pieces were carved and emblazoned; and all, so far as I could
judge, was in perfect keeping, so that if a prince or noble of three
centuries ago were to come to lodge at Newstead Abbey, he would hardly
know that he had strayed out of his own century. And yet he might have
known by some token, for there are volumes of poetry and light literature
on the tables in these royal bed-chambers, and in that of Henry VII. I saw
"The House of the Seven Gables," and "The Scarlet Letter," in Routledge's
edition.

Certainly the house is admirably fitted up; and there must have been
something very excellent and comprehensive in the domestic arrangements of
the monks, since they adapt themselves so well to a state of society
entirely different from that in which they originated. The library is a
very comfortable room, and provocative of studious ideas, tho lounging and
luxurious. It is long, and rather low, furnished with soft couches, and,
on the whole, tho a man might dream of study, I think he would be most
likely to read nothing but novels there. I know not what the room was in
monkish times, but it was waste and ruinous in Lord Byron's. Here, I
think, the housekeeper unlocked a beautiful cabinet, and took out the
famous skull which Lord Byron transformed into a drinking-goblet. It has a
silver rim and stand, but still the ugly skull is bare and evident, and
the naked inner bone receives the wine.

There was much more to see in the house than I had any previous notion of;
but except the two chambers already noticed, nothing remained the least as
Byron left it. Yes, another place there was--his own small dining-room,
with a table of moderate