Near the south-east angle of the Trewern Chapel rises the ancient Celtic cross that figures conspicuously in our sketch. This curious monument goes by the name of St. Byrnach's Stone. It stands upwards of 10 feet in height, and is overlaid with the interlacing ornament peculiar to these structures. So boldly and deeply are the patterns incised, as to be little the worse for ten centuries of wind and weather, the hoary lichens that cling to the rugged surface of the monolith serving but to enhance its venerable aspect. Anent this ancient stone, there is a quaint tradition which tells how, in olden times, the cuckoo was wont to first sound his note in this locality on the day of the patron saint, April 7. 'I might well here omit,' says George Owen, 'an old report as yet fresh of this odious bird, that in the old world the parish priest of this church would not begin Mass until the bird--called the citizen's ambassador--had first appeared, and began her note on a stone called St. Byrnach's Stone, being curiously wrought with sundry sort of knots, standing upright in the churchyard of this parish; and one year staying very long, and the priest and the people expecting her accustomed coming (for I account this bird of the feminine gender), came at last, lighting on the said stone--her accustomed preaching-place--and being scarce able once to sound the note, presently fell dead.' It is somewhat reassuring to be told by the same authority that 'this vulgar tale, although it concerns in some sort church matters, you may either believe or not without peril of damnation.' Quitting the pleasant precincts of the church, we pursue a crooked lane that skirts the green mounds of the 'castell,' and, turning thence past a solitary thatched cottage, make our way along a hollow tree-shaded pathway. Keeping a sharp look-out upon every side, we presently espy the object of our search, the form of a cross, half obliterated by ivy sprays and tufts of rushy grass, being seen rudely graven upon the high sandstone bank by the lane side; while a sort of hollow kneeling-place can be distinguished in the rock at the bottom of the cross. [Illustration: PILGRIM'S CROSS AT NEVERN.] For we are now upon the line of an ancient pilgrims' way, whose course is marked by well-worn tracks in the soft red sandy rock; and this solitary cross calls up visions of the mediæval wayfarer pausing upon his journey to St. David's Shrine, to invoke before Croes Byrnach the benediction of that influential saint. We are at some pains (owing to the exuberant undergrowth) to obtain a sketch of this interesting object, for, so far as we are aware, no other cross like this is to be found throughout the length and breadth of Wales. In an out-of-the-way locality about two miles north of Nevern stands a farmhouse called Trellyfan, _anglicè_ Toadstown. The origin of this singular name is explained by the following story, narrated by no less an authority than the famous Giraldus Cambrensis.