A couple of miles or so to the northward rises the parish church of Mathry, conspicuous upon its high hill-top. This church of the Holy Martyrs once had a lofty steeple, that served as a useful guide to mariners until blown down one stormy night, many a year ago. Mathry was a place of some local importance in olden times, receiving a patent for a market and fair from Edward III., while the greater tithes of this extensive parish sufficed to endow the 'golden prebend' of St. Davids Cathedral. As we near our destination, the rugged hills of Pencaer rise picturesquely beyond the sands of Goodwic, while Dinas head rears its bold front above Cardigan Bay, with the delicate outline of the Carnarvonshire mountains serrating the distant horizon. The town of Fishguard hangs, as it were, upon the slope of a precipitous hill overlooking the vale of the Gwaen, which here, as George Owen puts it, 'falleth into the sea, making a faire Haven and goode Harborow for shipps and Barks.' Its waterside suburb of Abergwaen, approached by one of the steepest bits of coach road in the Principality, is mainly frequented by fisher-folk and seafaring men engaged in the coasting trade. Encompassed by sheltering uplands, the narrow vale of the Gwaen has a singularly mild and equable climate, which fosters a wealth of luxuriant vegetation. In the course of a stroll through the beautiful grounds of Glyn-y-Mel, we notice the eucalyptus and bamboo evidently making themselves quite at home in this sunny nook, while heliotrope and dracæna, camellia and laurestinus flourish out-of-doors the winter through. Usually the most easy-going of Sleepy Hollows, Fishguard town awoke one fine morning towards the close of the last century to find itself become suddenly famous. On February 21, 1797, three French frigates were sighted off the Pembrokeshire coast bearing up towards Fishguard Bay, where they presently came to anchor near Carreg Gwastad Point. During the ensuing night the enemy came ashore to the number of about 1,500 men, regular troops and gaol-birds, under the leadership of one Tate, a renegade Irish-American. Tate, with the chief of his satellites, established himself at the neighbouring farmhouse of Trehowel, while the main body of the 'invaders' encamped atop of an isolated hill overlooking the village of Llanwnda. Thence the Frenchmen dispersed about the countryside, scaring the inhabitants out of their wits, and rummaging the farmhouses in search of potheen and plunder. [Illustration: CLOCK AT BRESTGARN.] In one of these exploits a drunken fellow entered a cottage at Brestgarn, where a 'grandfather' clock happened to be standing in a corner. Dismayed by the sounds issuing from the mysterious object, the simpleton fired his gun at a venture, concluding the devil must be lurking within. This clock is still to be seen at Brestgarn, with the bullet-hole through the panel as may be noticed in our sketch.