“With youth wild throbbing”—
were modestly handkerchiefed to their throats; yet did the thin gauze covering, closely embracing the proud distensions of nature, only the more bewitchingly manifest the beauties which it was appointed to conceal. Their other proportions were in unison, and, as a jockey, who was also going to the fair, coarsely, but clearly, observed, “full of hard meat.” In truth, among them, it were no difficult matter to find what Homer would, call—ϑαλερῂν παρακοιτιν. The dress of the Welch women, however, is not calculated to set off their persons: a close mob cap has little grace, especially when surmounted with a round felt hat; and their very long waists, and brown or plaid cloth jackets and petticoats, but render the rotundity of their foundations more unpicturesque. It cannot at present be said, that:
—“their tender limbs
Float in the loose simplicity of dress.”
yet, as the smart girls begin to imitate our English modes, in the course of a few years every contour of nature may be as free public inspection in Wales, as it is at present in the polite circles of the metropolis.
Crossing the ferry, we left this interesting group; and, in proceeding up a high bank of the haven, enjoyed a fine view of its expansive surface, and grand undulating shores. About half-way to Haverfordwest a new scene burst upon us, consisting of a wide luxuriant valley, watered by a large arm of Milford-haven. We were denied a distinct view of this scene by a hazy atmosphere; but are informed that it is uncommonly rich and extensive in clear weather. On approaching the town of Haverfordwest up a laborious ascent, we passed through the fair, which is held just without the town. Black cattle and horses were the chief objects of the meeting, which had scarcely any diversions; no shews: nor any jugglers, except a recruiting party, and two or three cattle jobbers, or middle men, who agreed upon the price of the market, while the actual buyers and sellers stood gaping at each other, in amazement how such prices could be obtained! Perhaps they had to learn, that for an indispensable commodity, exclusively held by a set of men whose interests are common, any price may be obtained! But we had some rural sports: a party of rustics were dancing on the green, to the notes of a miserable scraper; yet of him it could not be said,
“Old Orpheus play’d so well he mov’d old Nick;
But thou mov’st nothing but thy fiddle-stick,”
for the reeking brows of his company very plainly evinced the laborious agitation that he had excited. Close by, a game at see-saw seemed to create much diversion among the bye-standers. We joined in the throng, and were entertained with a good-natured dispute between a comely lad and as blythe a lass as any the fair could boast: they were in the midst of their acquaintance; and we learned from one of them, that on the following Sunday they were to be married: he wished her to ride with him at see-saw, and she persisted in refusing; he hauled her to no purpose, until a sharp-looking little girl said, that if she were in his place she would put off the wedding for a fortnight, to be revenged; a loud laugh succeeded this, at the expence of the bride-elect; but the allusion to matrimony forced no downcast confusion on the lass; perhaps her rosy dimples were painted with a deeper hue; yet the suffusion arose rather from a glowing idea, than a sensation of unnecessary shame: wherefore should she be ashamed of the approaching fulfilment of her long-cherished wishes?—I do not know whether she feared that her lover might adopt the advice of her mischievous friend, or whether it was the natural compliance of the sex disqualifying them for stout denial, that acted upon her; but she at length yielded. Alas, poor damsel! she was not yet an adept at see-saw; and a verification of Buxoma’s mischance was witnessed by the whole Company:
“Cuddy.—Across the fallen oak the plant I laid,
And myself pois’d against the tott’ring maid.
High leap’d the plank, adown Buxoma fell:
I spy’d—but faithful sweethearts never tell.”
The town of Haverfordwest irregularly built on the steep bank of the river Hia, may now be considered as the capital of Pembrokeshire; as well on account of its superior extent and opulence, as from its having lately become the place of the grand session. But the streets are narrow and dirty, and so steep as to be seriously dangerous. A few good houses, among which is a residence of the dowager lady Kensington, start up here and there; but in such situations, as to convey no look of importance to the place. However commerce may have diffused wealth through this town, and proclaimed it the successful rival of Pembroke; yet, compared with the clean, placid, and respectable mien of the latter, it ensures no pre-eminence of esteem from the tourist: it may, indeed, present to him the idea of a purse-proud shop-keeper, strutting before a decayed gentleman.
The castle, seated on a cliff adjoining the town, is said to have been built by Gilbert Earl of Clare, in the reign of King Stephen, and was occupied by the Flemings. Though still possessing considerable portions of its former importance, yet, engrafted with modern additions to fit it for the county jail, it has little picturesque attraction. A wall connected with the castle, which once surrounded the town, is still in part standing: a good quay, a custom house, a free school, a charity school, and an alms house, are among the public concerns of this town. Of three churches that it boasts, that of St. Mary is a neat building; and its spire, covered with shingles and warped from the perpendicular, has a curious effect. A short distance southward of the town, near the river, are some remains of a priory of Black cantons, founded by John de Haverford.