ther interesting things; and among them may be reckoned a fountain of
very pure water, called the "Holly Well," of which we drank. There are
several fountains, besides the large mirror in the center of the garden;
and these are mostly inhabited by carp, the genuine descendants of those
which peopled the fishponds in the days of the monks. Coming in front of
the Abbey, the gardener showed us the oak that Byron planted, now a
vigorous young tree; and the monument which he erected to his Newfoundland
dog, and which is larger than most Christians get, being composed of a
marble, altar-shaped tomb, surrounded by a circular area of steps, as much
as twenty feet in diameter. The gardener said, however, that Byron
intended this, not merely as the burial-place of his dog, but for himself,
too, and his sister.

HUCKNALL-TORKARD CHURCH [Footnote: From "Gray Days and Gold." By
permission of, and by arrangement with, the publishers, Moffat, Yard & Co.
Copyright by William Winter, 1890-1911.]

[Byron's Grave]

BY WILLIAM WINTER

It was near the close of a fragrant, golden summer day when, having driven
from Nottingham, I alighted in the market-place of the little town of
Hucknall-Torkard, on a pilgrimage to the grave of Byron. The town is
modern and commonplace in appearance,--a straggling collection of low
brick dwellings, mostly occupied by colliers. On that day it appeared at
its worst; for the widest part of its main street was filled with stalls,
benches, wagons, and canvas-covered structures for the display of
vegetables and other commodities, which were thus offered for sale, and it
was thronged with rough, noisy, dirty persons, intent on barter and
traffic, and not indisposed to boisterous pranks and mirth, as they pushed
and jostled each other among the crowded booths. This main street
terminates at the wall of the graveyard in which stands the little gray
church wherein Byron was buried. There is an iron gate in the center of
the wall, and in order to reach this it was necessary to thread the mazes
of the marketplace, and to push aside the canvas flaps of a pedler's stall
which had been placed close against it. Next to the churchyard wall is a
little cottage, with a bit of garden, devoted, at that time, to potatoes;
and there, while waiting for the sexton, I talked with an aged man, who
said that he remembered, as an eye-witness, the funeral of Byron. He
stated his age and said that his name was William Callandyne.