Quitting the church by its massive south porch, we pause beneath the spreading elms that adorn the churchyard to admire a singular group of arches, set in a crumbling fragment of ruined wall, whose gray, time-worn stones are abloom with bright tufts of pink valerian. These appear to be the sole remains of a house of Carmelite nuns, established A.D. 1399 by one John de Swynemore; and so graceful are these richly-moulded arches that we can but regret that more of the structure has not been spared to us. It is probable that these ruins are of coëval date with the adjacent western doorway of the church, which has a peculiar ogee arch surmounted with the following inscription in Gothic characters: BENEDICTUS DEUS IN DONIS SUIS. Rambling haphazard around the little town, such names as Frog Street, Crackwell Street and the like, tickle our fancy as a quaint relief to modern street nomenclature, which, usually devoid of originality, too often supplants local names racy of the soil. [Illustration: A BIT OF OLD TENBY] A sudden turn down a narrow lane, hanging, as it were, upon the steep hillside, reveals glimpses of old-world Tenby which beguile our wandering steps from the hard highway. At a secluded corner of these by-lanes a gray and weather-beaten old house stands, forsaken and neglected, amid the meaner dwellings that encompass it. The well-proportioned windows and pointed doorway which adorn the massive front lend a certain air of faded dignity, as though the old place had once 'seen better days'; while above the high-pitched roof peers one of those curious, rounded erections called hereabouts 'Flemish' chimneys. In conjunction with the ancient gables at the rear of the adjacent saddler's shop, this interesting old structure forms one of the most picturesque relics yet remaining of the Tenby of 'auld lang syne.' Following hence the groups of stalwart fisher-folk as, with large air of leisure, they stroll adown the hill, we soon find ourselves upon the 'Peere made for Shyppes' which encloses the little harbour. Here stood in olden times the seamen's chapel of St. Julian, which was subsequently converted into a bath-house: thus 'cleanliness comes next to godliness'; and a pretty modern chapel now stands beside the quay. Close at hand, in a sheltered cove, the lifeboat lies in wait beside a rudimentary iron 'peere,' which threatens to stretch its spindle shanks athwart the comely crescent of the bay, beneath the fortress-crowned islet of St. Catherine. The adjacent Castle Hill is crowned by a lofty watch-tower, some ruined outworks of the ancient city walls, and a handsome marble statue of the late Prince Consort, of heroic size: lower down stands a small but well-arranged museum, which contains a representative collection of local natural history, besides valuable cases of shells, coins, etc. [Illustration: OLD HOUSES AT TENBY.]