Thence Teifi makes for the defile which ushers it to salt water, past the small yet prosperous county town, which has close sea intercourse with Bristol, and does a good trade in fish. Cardigan, like all these Welsh capitals, has a fragmentary castle; so fragmentary, indeed, that it is hardly discoverable. It has also an old church with a remarkably massive tower, having a buttress like a staircase. From its churchyard tombstones one may learn much, as well as the common lesson of the mortality of mortals. It is, for example, interesting to the stranger to be informed that "Let" is no unusual Christian name for a man here, and "Lettice" for a woman. The town suffers from a complaint nowadays rare among the capitals of British counties, to wit, difficult railway communication with the rest of the land. This will be remedied somewhat when the existing line is continued from Newcastle Emlyn. But one may be excused for hoping that Teifi's banks may for years to come know nothing of the mauling and devastation that will be inevitable when this takes place. If you wish to see Teifi, or Tivy, quite to its end, it is worth while to go north another three miles, to Gwbert-on-the-Sea, a distinctly primitive and pleasing watering-place, facing Kemmaes Head, with the mile and a half of Teifi's mouth (at its widest) intervening. [Illustration: THE TEIFI AT KILGERRAN. _Photo: S. J. Allen, Pembroke Dock._] Bidding farewell to the beauteous Teifi, we must now in few words track the last of our rivers to the same inevitable destination. /Ystwith/ has had no poets that we are aware of. Not all who visit Aberystwith, indeed, perceive (though they surely might) that it gives its name to this salubrious town. The Rheidol, which also enters the sea at Aberystwith, is treated with distinction. For it there is a solid, handsome bridge, lighted with lamps. But for Ystwith there is only a very commonplace bridge.