Saundersfoot is a small straggling place on the bottom and declivity of a hill—there is a pier, coal works, and tramway. There is a great rise and fall of tide here, sometimes thirty feet. At the end of the headland to the South-East is a strange rock, which can be reached at low water, called the Monk’s Rock. {165a} Written on the pier at Saundersfoot. The coast strikingly resembles the scenery about Douglas; but Saundersfoot cannot be compared with Douglas, pier exceedingly rude, very narrow, entrance at N. into bason quite dry at low tide. High and strong wall to the East and cliff to the S. I was very much fatigued from the journey of the previous day. Laugharne is only 12 miles from S.F. but I shall never forget the heat of the weather—it was truly horrible. The Australian Welshman said that the heat of Australia was nothing to it. [August] 25th, [Tuesday].—After breakfast started from Saundersfoot after paying bill which was very moderate, the dear good landlady apologizing for my indifferent accommodation though it had been excellent. Written at the top of St. Margaret’s Rock, Tenby. {165b} In Tenby Castle. About 5 miles from Tenby, St. Florence. Beautiful girl with donkey. No Welsh spoken in the parish. Halfway House. Manbedring parish {166a}—bason of water. Llanfar {166b}—singular village 2 m. from Pembroke. Handsome girls in singular dress, milking cows in the street—some good-looking houses—church with tall thin spire. Pembroke—mean entrance—dull, lifeless, town—fine castle towards the end. Lion Inn. {166c} Pembroke Castle—written in the birth-room of Henry VIIth. Patters Barracks, {166d} firing. Difficulties of crossing water. Walk to Milford—Llan Stadwell—returned. {166e} Drunkard by the road’s side. “This is my residence, Sir,” but never asked me in. Soldiers with deserters. [August] 26th, [Wednesday].—Milford Haven—glorious bay, but the sun so hot and dazzling as nearly to deprive me of my senses. Stanton {166f}—the same peculiarly thin kind of spire which I had seen at Llanfar. Johnston—village—no Welsh. Haverfordwest—little river—bridge; {167a} steep ascent {167b}—sounds of music—young fellows playing—steep descent—strange town—Castle Inn. H.W. in Welsh Hool-fordd. [August] 27th, Thursday.—Burning day as usual. Breakfasted on tea, eggs, and soup. Went up to the Castle. St. Mary’s Church—river—bridge—toll—The two bridge keepers—River Dun Cledi {167c}—runs into Milford haven—exceedingly deep in some parts—would swallow up the largest ship ever built {167d}—people in general dislike and despise the Welsh.