forth by the morning train, we alight at Lamphey Station; whence we make our way to the grand old ruins of Carew Castle, as our pièce de résistance for to-day. Once free of Lamphey village, we soon find ourselves striding across the Ridgeway by Lamphey Park; whence we get a pretty retrospect, under some weather-beaten trees, of the pleasant vale we have quitted, with a more distant peep of the towers of Pembroke Castle. Here, too, we find a few traces of olden times in a group of gray, weather-stained farm-buildings; remnants, maybe, of Bishop Vaughan's famous grange.
At Rambler's Folly, on the crest of the ridge, we get the first glimpse of our destination, down in the valley below; with a background of open country rolling upward to the distant hills; while, by taking the trouble to cross over the road, we command the broad plain of the sea.
A shepherd with collie-dog at heel, driving his flock to pasture, now puts us in the way of a short-cut across the meadows. This woodland path is enlivened by a bevy of butterflies that, like ourselves, are taking the morning air. Here floats a stately 'peacock,' while yonder sprightly Atalanta, perched upon a spray of woodbine, displays her becoming toilette of scarlet and glossy black, edged with daintiest lace.
Approaching our destination, we skirt around a marshy watercourse abloom with yellow flags, orchids and gay pink campion. Ere long a flight of stepping-stones lands us in the village, right abreast of Carew church, a noble old structure with handsome traceried windows, and a tower such as one rarely sees in this locality. A picturesque old building with pointed windows, that was formerly the village school, adds a pretty feature to the churchyard.
But we must push on to the castle, reserving these minor matters for future investigation. Half a mile of hard highroad ensues, when, just before the castle gate is reached, our attention is absorbed by an object standing upon the steep bank, hard by the road.
