LLANSTEPHAN CASTLE crowns the summit of a bold hill, whose precipitous base is washed by the sea. Its broken walls inclose a large area; and, furnished with several encircling earthen ramparts, appear to have possessed considerable antique strength. From numerous stations it offers a truly picturesque appearance; and in the approach charmingly combines with the surrounding landscape; which, ever varying, is sometimes confined to the woody character; at others, exhibits the wide estuary, the rocky promontory forming its opposite shore, and the boundless sea. [Picture: Llanstephan Castle] This castle is said to have been built by the sons of Uchtred, prince of Merionethshire, anno Domini 1138; but soon after fell into the hands of the Normans and Flemings; in 1145 it was taken from them by Cadelh, son of Rhys Prince of South Wales; and so vigorously maintained, that the utmost force which the foreigners could raise was unable to retake it. However, by the year 1189 it must have been in the possession of the English, as Caradoc informs us that it was then taken from them by Prince Rhys. The village, a neat humble place, is snugly situated beneath the “Castle-cap’d hill” in a woody hollow; whence we traversed a lofty ridge, commanding extensive views, to a neighbouring estuary, formed by the Tave near its junction with the sea. As the tide was out, we could not avail ourselves of the ferry, but had ample directions where the water might be crossed; yet, unfortunately, on arriving at the sands, the description of circumstances received for our guidance proved so general, that we were unable to select the route intended; and the broad current ran with such threatening rapidity into the sea, only half a mile distant, that it would have been highly dangerous to have ventured in upon hazard. Ignorant how to proceed, and unwilling to return three or four miles for fresh directions, we gladly observed a couple of young women trudging on the sands in a direction toward us. The proper place for fording was now pointed out, where, it was said, the water would scarcely cover our horses’ knees; we deemed it most prudent, however, to let the natives go first, and they accordingly entered the river, using the precaution of raising their drapery. We followed close; but the lasses had considerably underrated the depth of the water, for it took both them and our horses above their middles; yet so carefully were their clothes held up, that not a thread was wetted. On reaching the opposite shore, their petticoats were suffered to descend: my friend and I then looked at each other, passed an observation, returned our thanks to the damsels, wished them a good morrow; and under an overhanging rock of red granite, crowned with the ivy-mantled remains of LAUGHARNE CASTLE, reached the town, an irregularly built little place, seated on a low bank of the estuary.