height at the headland of Giltar Point, beyond which the pedestrian will find a slight difficulty in the shape of lofty precipices and deep water, so that he must clamber up the rocks as best he can, and keep along the edge of the down to Proud Giltar.
About a mile from land is one of the great Bristol Channel islands, that of Caldy, which is a favourite water excursion from Tenby for those who are fond of boating. Caldy Island is of considerable extent, and at low water is connected by a ridge of rocks with St. Margaret’s. Moreover it is inhabited by the lord of the manor, Mr. Kynaston, whose modern house is incorporated with a more ancient building, probably the ruins of a monastic establishment, which formerly existed here. The light-house here is a great lion for visitors, and a great boon to mariners, for it lights up a particularly dangerous part of the Channel highway. The brethren of the hammer will find here a fair show of limestone fossils, and an interesting junction of the carboniferous and old red sandstone formations, while at a place called Eel Point bones of animals have been discovered. For those parties with whom water excursions disagree, there are plenty of places to be visited in the neighbourhood of Tenby, and plenty of means for visiting them. All day long, carriages are rattling about the streets and terraces, from the stylish-looking break down to the funny little one-horse “chays,” which are indigenous to the town, and very abundant. On the road to Penally and Lydstep Caverns, you may meet scores of these small vehicles going down-hill (particularly Windpipe Lane), at a pace wonderful to behold, and turning the corners (of which there are many) in a glorious uncertainty as to what may be meeting them. Penally is a charming, little village, about a couple of miles off, placed on a well-wooded rising ground, and containing a picturesque church and some crosses in the churchyard, which is said to have been the resting place of Saint Teilo, the patron saint of Llandaff. A very pious saint was he, and a politic, for it is recorded of him, that after his death, three churches, viz., Llandaff, Penally, and Llandeilo disputed with each other as to the ownership of his bones, and not being able to settle the point satisfactorily, agreed to petition the saint to reveal himself to the church which really possessed them. He listened graciously to their prayer, and unwilling to disappoint such zealous disciples, showed himself in three separate but similar bodies, one for each church, to their great joy and exultation.
A little before you come to Penally, there is, close to the road-side, a curious cavern, known as Hoyle’s Mouth. It is in the limestone rock, and has been actually explored for a distance of 159 feet. For those who are fond of wriggling themselves in uncomfortable attitudes through narrow passages, this is just the place to suit them: only, visitors must be careful not to penetrate too far, or they may find that they emerge into daylight again at Pembroke Castle—so runs the legend, which doubtless was current before the days of geological research, which unfortunately for the subterranean passages, shows us that the Ridgeway, a long elevated upthrow of old red sandstones, intervenes between the two places, and thus renders the communication impossible.
A very favourite excursion is that through Penally and Lydstep to Manorbeer Castle, one of the finest examples in the whole country of a fortified castellated residence. Indeed, strong as it is, it was built more for defence than offence, and contains more traces of a domestic character than any of the castles round. Here old Giraldus Cambrensis was born, the famous historian of Wales and the travelling companion of Archbishop Baldwyn in his preaching tour. He has left a glowing description of the splendours of Manorbeer, its gardens, terraces, and fish-ponds, the remains of which are still visible, but Ichabod! their glory has departed. The church, too, is the most extraordinary edifice that can be imagined. All the Pembrokeshire churches, particularly in the southern portion of the county, are marked, architecturally speaking, by a peculiarly rude and massive style, which sought to combine the church with a defensive post, if needs were; for in those times the necessity for defence occurred again and again. But Manorbeer church, besides presenting this feature, is remarkable for the odd irregularity of its outline, as though the different parts had been plunged down in a heap, and tacked on to each other, any how.
It would take too long to enumerate all the different objects worth visiting near Tenby—Stackpole Court, with its splendid gardens—Saint Gowan’s well, with its ruined chapel—the Stack Rock—Pembroke, with its glorious round tower—Lamphey Palace, where the Bishop of Saint David’s lived like a country gentleman; and Llawhawden Castle, where he lived like a fighting baron, and from the roof of which the wicked Bishop Barlow stole the lead to enable him to marry off his five plain daughters. Verily, is not the history of all these written in the chronicles of the Tenby Guide?
THE PARENTAGE OF A SUNBEAM.
Of all the heads the sun shines down upon, the most are far too busy or too idle to think much about him, except vaguely as the great source of light and heat, whose morning appearance sets the world astir, and evening disappearance stills the din, and leaves the world to rest. What is it that so beneficently rules over us, subduing and enriching our earth with the shining host of sunbeams? Is it a great globe of fire, or disc of light, put there solely for the benefit of the earth and her companion planets? or has it a life of its own, so to speak, movement, change, ceaselessly active forces?
If we want to know the size of a distant object, we must first find how far off it is. We know familiarly that its apparent position depends upon the situation of the observer; that if we walk half a mile, the church steeple which was in one direction at starting, seems in quite another now. If it be a very near object, a small change of position will displace it; but if of such magnitude—a distant mountain, say—as to be seen a long way