s
of the ancient town-wall are standing, with the mural towers and
gateways. In the parish church, which we pass, are some most
interesting monuments of the early half of the fourteenth century, but
the Tenbyites look upon their church as rather a modern structure,
as churches go in Wales. They point out the place where John Wesley
preached in the street in 1763, when the mayor threatened to read the
riot act. There is still a law in Wales against street-preaching, but
it is not often enforced, unless the preacher happens to be drunk--an
incident not altogether unknown.

The old stone pier abounds with seafaring characters in holiday rig,
very picturesque to American eyes. They knuckle their foreheads and
remove their pipes as we pass, and by attitudes and gestures which
would inform a deaf-mute invite us to take a sail on the bay. They do
not audibly offer their services, for the municipal laws forbid them
to, but their figureheads are mutely eloquent. Here is one who might
be put right on the stage as he stands as the typical jolly Jack Tar
of the nautical drama. He wears a red liberty-cap, and a nose which
matches it to a shade. His jersey is blue and low in the neck, and his
trousers are of that roominess supposed to be necessary for nautical
purposes. Other mariners about him are quite as interesting.
Occasionally one is seen whose rig is so neat he might have stepped
out of a bandbox, but, though he is an ornamental mariner, he is not a
Brummagem one. These fellows all know storm and danger and severe toil
as common acquaintances. The neatest of them are understood to be
residents here, with wives or mothers who strive hard to keep them
looking nice in the fashionable season; and in blue flannel shirt with
immense broad collar, another broad collar of white turned over that,
hat of neat straw or tarpaulin with upturned rim and bright blue
ribbon, they form a feature of attractiveness which has no counterpart
at American seaside resorts. The rougher mariners, if not so handsome,
are still most picturesque: they are chiefly fishermen from the
Devonshire coast, who sail over here to take the salmon, mackerel,
herrings, turbots, soles, etc. which so abound at Tenby. The spot
still bears out, in spite of its modern glories as a watering-place,
its ancient renown as a fishing-point, which was so great that the
old-time Britons called it _Denbych y Piscoed_ ("the hill by the place
of fishes").

On the Castle Hill we f