The Newgale Brook sweeps around Roch Castle, and enters St. Bride's Bay through a broad rampart of shingle and sand. This latter stream has from very early times formed the boundary between the ancient provinces of Dewisland and Rhôs; and to this day the Newgale Brook draws a line of demarcation between an English and a Welsh speaking people. Upon its left bank lies Rhôs, a portion of the district known as 'Little England beyond Wales,' with its Saxon speech and Norman fortress of Roch; while all to westward stretches venerable Dewisland, Welsh now as ever in tongue and in title. The Solva River, emerging from a deep and narrow 'cwm,' forms one of the most picturesque harbours upon the coast--a tempting nook for the artist. Lastly, the little Allan Water, rising amidst those curious hills which overlook St. Davids, meanders past open, gorse-clad commons and marshlands abloom with the golden flag. Thenceforth the Allan winds around the ruins of the Bishop's palace, and finally loses itself in a tiny haven frequented by a few trading craft and small coastwise colliers. Deep into the bluff outline of this sea-girt land, old Ocean encroaches by two important inlets of widely different character. As the wayfarer bound to St. Davids approaches his destination, the tedium of the long coach-drive is at last relieved by the welcome outlook across a broad expanse of sea. This is St. Bride's Bay, whose waters sweep inland past the ancient city for a distance of ten miles or so, having the large islands of Ramsey and Skomer lying upon either horn of the bay. Tradition tells that, 'once upon a time,' a fair country studded with villages and farmsteads flourished where now the ocean rolls; and traces of submerged forests about Newgale, and elsewhere within the compass of the bay, suggest a possible grain of truth in the local fable. A few miles farther down the coast the famous estuary of Milford Haven opens seaward between the sheltering heights of St. Anne's Head, and the long, crooked peninsula of Angle. Wonderful are the ramifications of this magnificent waterway, within whose spacious roadstead the whole British navy might with ease find anchorage; while its land-locked tidal reaches bear a modest local traffic to many a remote inland district, calling up memories of savours nautical beside the grass-grown quays of Pembroke and 'Ha'rfordwest.' Well might Imogen marvel why Nature should have singled out 'this same blessed Milford' for such a priceless endowment, exclaiming: 'Tell me how Wales was made so happy as To inherit such a Haven.' The quaint author of 'Polyolbion' no less enthusiastically remarks: 'So highly Milford is in every mouth renown'd, Noe Haven hath aught good, that in her is not found;' while lastly, not to be outdone, George Owen, the old Pembrokeshire chronicler, declares his beloved 'Myllford Havon' to be the 'most famouse Porte of Christendome.'