Lord Cawdor’s “distribution” took the form of placing 700 men in the beautiful old church of St. Mary’s (which they greatly injured), 500 in the Town Hall, and the remainder in the store-houses of Haverfordwest. The officers were allowed out on parole, and one of them showed scant respect for his word of honour, for he was discovered at a silversmith’s trying to barter an old silver cup for coin of the realm, with which doubtless to escape to France. There were some letters on the cup which he chose to decipher as “La Vendée”; they turned out on inspection to be “Llanwnda,” from which church the chalice had been stolen, and where it was at once returned, while the officer was transferred from the “Castle Hotel” to the Castle jail—a very different place. A number of the prisoners were shortly after sent on to Carmarthen and to Pembroke, where the romantic episode of the escape from the Golden Prison occurred exactly as given in the narrative. The arms and ammunition taken from the French filled fifty-five carts; their muskets were the ordinary weapon of the period, with flint locks, barrels 3ft. 7in., whole length 4ft. 10in., weight 9¾lbs. Lord Cawdor presented two of these muskets to the Tenby Museum, and Mr. Mathias gave a short sword and scabbard. On each side of the sword are represented sun, moon, and stars, with the inscription _Cassaguard_, _Fourbisseur du Roy_, _Nantes_. There are half-a-dozen cannonballs—nine pounders—at the house of Eleanor Rees, of Goodwick, which were given to her father by the French—a curious toy for a small boy of two or three years of age. The invaders seem to have been very kind to this young Taffy, nursed him on their knees, and made much of him, and finally presented him with this strange _gage d’amour_. He was probably a plucky little fellow, for he grew into a brave man, and was awarded a medal for having at various times saved many lives, going out in his own boat to shipwrecked vessels and rescuing the crews—when the _Lady Kenmare_ foundered he saved, among others, two ladies and some children, bringing them through a tremendous sea, “in their night-dresses, as wet as sops,” the narrator added.