watering-place. Britons do not change their habits without good and
valid cause therefor, and no Americans ever come to Tenby, so far as I
can learn.

We are Americans ourselves, of course, and we are going to do as
Americans do--viz. make a very brief stay, and that in an hotel. We
obtain accommodations at last through a happy fortune, and presently
find ourselves installed in the grandest suite of hotel-apartments
at Tenby--a large parlor, handsomely furnished, with a piano, books,
_objets d'art_, etc., and a bedroom off it. At Long Branch, were there
such an apartment there--which there is not--twenty dollars a day
would be charged for it, without board and without compunction. Here
we pay nineteen shillings. There is a magnificent view from our front
windows. The hotel stands close to the cliff, with only a narrow
street between its doorstep and the edge of the precipice. The night
is falling, and the scene is like Fairy Land. We look from our windows
straight down upon the sands, a dizzy distance below (but to which it
were easy to toss a pebble), and out over the glassy waters, where
small craft float silently, with the gray old stone pier and the dark
ivy-hung ruin on Castle Hill, the one reflected in the waves, the
other outlined against the sky--a lovely picture. Tenby covers the
ridge of a long and narrow promontory rising abruptly out of the sea,
its stone streets running along the dizzy limestone cliffs. From the
highest point eastward--where is presented toward the sea a front
of rugged precipices which would not shame a mountain-range--the
promontory slopes gradually lower and lower till the streets of the
town run stonily down sidewise through an ancient gate and debouch
upon the south beach. Then, as if repenting its condescension, the
promontory takes a fresh start, and for a brief spurt climbs again,
but quickly plunges into the sea. This spurt, however, creates the
picturesque hill on which of old stood a powerful Norman fortress,
whose ruins we see. Local enterprise has now laid out the hill as a
public pleasure-ground, with gravelled paths and rustic seats, and
glorified it with a really superb statue of the late Prince Albert,
who, the Welsh inscription asserts, was _Albert Dda, Priod Ein
Gorhoffus Frenhines Victoria_.

We find upon inquiry that our hotel so far infringes upon primitive
Welsh manners as to provide a _table-d'hote_ dinner at six. This is
most welcome news, and we become at once pa