Nooks And Corners Of Pembrokeshire Part 16

The gigantic capstone that forms the roof measures some 16 feet in length, by half as much across; its longer axis lying, roughly speaking, north and south. Beneath it stand four upright stones, tall enough to permit of a horseman pa.s.sing beneath the cromlech. A closer inspection shows that two only of these standing stones support the weight of the capstone; and their upper ends, being shaped like a narrow wedge, appear pointed when seen from the position whence our sketch was taken.

This n.o.ble relic of the prehistoric past has, under the Ancient Monuments Protection Act, been enclosed within a tall iron fence, which, if not exactly a pleasing feature in itself, will doubtless preserve the cromlech from further abuse and injury.

Soft white mists are stealing athwart the vale of Nevern, and clinging around the skirts of the lower foot-hills, as we wend our way back to quarters at Newport town. Glancing in the direction whence we have come, the cloud-wreaths gathered around the shoulders of Precelly glow crimson under the rays of the declining sun, as he sinks into the pallid sea away beyond Dinas Head; and by the time we arrive at our _rendezvous_, Darkness has spread her wings o'er the dusky landscape.

The next morning sees us early under way, and well on the road to Kilgerran, ere the sun has climbed high enough to make matters unpleasantly warm for the wayfarer. Beyond Nevern we pa.s.s near the lonely deserted chapel of Bayvil, and, after a long spell of steady collar-work, get some fine vistas of varied landscape near the old gra.s.s-grown barrows called Crugau Kemaes.

At the crossways farther on we are a matter of 500 feet above the sea, with Monington village on our left, and the church and ruined castle of Llantood away to the right. Then, as we near Kilgerran, we notice an old boundary-stone under the hedgerow, bearing a few half-obliterated lines anathematizing him who should venture to remove this landmark, the original purpose of which has probably long since been forgotten.

Pa.s.sing under a railway arch, we soon descry Kilgerran Church, standing on the brink of a narrow ravine that opens towards the Teivy. St.

Llawddog, from whom this church inherits its euphonious patronymic, appears to have been a saint of some local celebrity, for his name crops up at more than one place in the immediate neighbourhood.

With the exception of its gray old tower, Kilgerran Church has been entirely rebuilt, and calls for no particular notice. In the graveyard stands a venerable monolith, much older than the church itself. The weathered surface of the stone is scored with those Ogham characters, so fascinating to the antiquarian mind; these hieroglyphics have been deciphered as follows: TRENGUSSI FILI HIC JACIT. Unfortunately, a large portion of the _maenhir_ is sunk below the level of the ground, thus rendering a thorough examination of its surface impracticable.

To eyes fresh from the beauties of Nevern, the long, rambling street of Kilgerran offers anything but an inviting appearance, being flanked by meagre unkempt dwellings, with but one or two cottages of more antique mould in the older portion of the village.

Despite the humble, not to say squalid, aspect of the place, there was a time when Kilgerran held a position of no small consequence. A borough town, governed by portreeve, aldermen and burgesses, its 'court-leet'

and 'view of frankpledge' held their annual meetings at Kilgerran; while many another time-honoured privilege bore witness to a state of things that has long since pa.s.sed away.

In those piping times, it was customary for each newly-elected burgess to prove his fitness for office by draining _at one draught_ a horn of strong Welsh ale; the Corporation horn used on such occasions holding fully a pint and a half of liquor!

We now make our way to the castle ruins, which occupy the brow of a lofty cliff overhanging the deep gorge of the Teivy. The existing remains of Kilgerran Castle consist of two ma.s.sive round towers, separating the outer from the inner bailey, with considerable fragments of the gate-house.

The entire fabric is plain, and very ma.s.sively constructed, showing little or no trace of ornamentation; the few doorways and windows that remain being arched in a primitive fashion, without the use of the customary keystone. A rough stone wall encircles the precipitous scarp next the river, a portion of which fell down suddenly many years ago, having been undermined by the excavations of the quarry-men.

Kilgerran Castle appears to have been founded at a very remote period, though the existing structure is probably not older than the beginning of the thirteenth century. In Powell's 'History of Cambria,' we read how, Henry I. having granted to Strongbow the lands of Cadwgan ap Blethyn, the great Earl' builded a faire castel at a place callyd Dyngeraint, where Roger Montgomerie had begonne a castel before tyme.'

Its subsequent history is unimportant, and Kilgerran Castle has at last succ.u.mbed to the shocks of time and the more devastating hand of man, who appears to have regarded its ancient walls in the light of a convenient quarry.

Looking out across the deep vale of Teivy, we can see the mansion of Coedmore amidst its ensheltering woodlands. It is said that, in olden times, a fishing-net was stretched athwart the river just below the mansion, a line being attached to the net and connected to a bell, which rang in the house to give notice to the inmates when a catch of salmon had been effected.

The clear, unsullied waters of the Teivy, have ever been a favourite haunt of the king of fishes. Giraldus Cambrensis a.s.serts that 'The n.o.ble river Teivy abounds, more than any river of Wales, with the finest Salmons; and it has a productive fishery near Kilgerran.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: A TEIVYSIDE CORACLE.]

That curious craft the ancient British coracle is a familiar object to all dwellers on Teivyside, where from days immemorial it has been employed by the fisher folk in the pursuit of their time-honoured calling.

The coracle, or _corwg_ as it is called in Wales, is somewhat of an oval shape, but is raised high and flattened at the bows. The framework consists of split rods forming a sort of basket-work, over which tarred canvas is stretched, though in olden times cowhide was used for this purpose; hence the ancient coracle weighed considerably more than the modern one, and this explains the old Welsh adage, _Llwyth gwr ci Gorwg_ (A man's load is his coracle). The seat is a stout ash-plank, and through it a loop or sling is twisted by which the owner carries his coracle upon his back, the wooden rails with which the seat is provided acting as a basket to carry the fish. The method of carrying the little craft is shown in the sketch at head of the present chapter.

Notwithstanding its great breadth of beam, it is by no means easy for a novice to propel the coracle by means of its single paddle; indeed, his efforts are likely to be brought to an untimely end by a plunge in the cold, clear depths of the Teivy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: KILGERRAN FERRY.]

After this digression, we will now take a stroll by Teivyside; descending from the village by a steep pathway beside some humble cottages and heaps of quarry refuse. As a result of certain ancient privileges, the townsfolk have gradually converted this portion of the left bank of the Teivy into a succession of slate quarries, whose ragged talus of _debris_ enc.u.mbers the water's edge; a sorry subst.i.tute for the luxuriant groves that greet the eye wherever Nature has been allowed fair play.

Pursuing this rough track for about a furlong, we turn to the right-about, and obtain a fine view of the castle lording it above a pretty reach of the river; and thence pursue a path that hugs the brink of the stream. After pa.s.sing the last and deepest of the slate-mines, which has been carried far below the river-bed, we enjoy a still more charming glimpse of the grand old ruins enfolded amongst richly wooded hills, all mirrored in an unruffled sheet of water at a point where the ferry-boat lies moored, beside the gra.s.sy bank.

[Ill.u.s.tration: KILGERRAN CASTLE FROM THE TEIVY.]

Thenceforward our footpath meanders amidst the magnificent groves of oak, beech and ash, that adorn the estate of Castle Malgwyn; their graceful forms reflected in the still, dark reaches of the placid Teivy, which hereabouts affords some of the finest river scenery to be found in all wild Wales.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LLECHRHYD BRIDGE.]

Onwards to Llechrhyd Bridge, whose ivy-mantled arches, backed by the lodge and woodlands of the park, form a 'likely' subject for the artist's pencil.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CASTLE MALGWYN.]

The village, with its snug waterside inn beloved of anglers, has a very seductive air about it; but we must not linger here, for these transpontine lands lie without the bounds of Pembrokeshire, and are therefore _taboo_ to us. So, striking away in the direction of the south, we traverse the s.p.a.cious demesne of Castle Malgwyn, getting a peep of the mansion set amidst dark, umbrageous woodlands; our approach causing the startled bunnies to skirmish away helter-skelter into the bracken coverts as we pa.s.s.

The return route to Kilgerran lies through a pleasant vale, with young oak-coppices upon the one hand, and a marshy reed-grown watercourse upon the other.

Setting forth by a different route upon the morrow's morn, a row downstream from Kilgerran introduces us to some charmingly diversified reaches of the swift-flowing Teivy. After pa.s.sing below the wooded slopes of Coedmore, our little craft threads the rocky channel as it twists, now this way, now that, through the broken undulating country, affording ever some fresh variation of the lovely changing landscape, to which the castle ruins form an imposing centre.

Presently we emerge upon broad tidal flats, where groups of cattle are browsing amidst the lush sedgy herbage. Shooting under Cardigan Bridge, we open out that final reach of the river where, in the words of George Owen, 'Teivy saluteth St. Dogmells, as it pa.s.seth to the sea.'

About a mile distant from the county-town of Cardigan, but on the Pembrokeshire side of the river, stands the before-mentioned village of St. Dogmaels. The little place is perched upon a rather steep declivity, its comely dwellings clambering up the slope, so that, from the top of the village, one's eye follows the course of the Teivy to the foam-fringed sh.o.r.es of Cardigan Bay, and the headland called Pen-Kemaes.

Here the cottage gardens are gay with heliotrope, fuchsias and hydrangea, which brave the winter out in the more sheltered corners; while the full-rigged flagstaffs that rise amidst the garden plots bespeak the nautical proclivities of the residents.

This village derives its name from the ancient Welsh monastery of St.

Dogmaels, which stood about a mile away at a place still bearing the name of Yr Hen Mynachlog (the Old Monastery). Of this venerable structure, founded by Robert de Turribus, but scanty traces now remain, in the shape of a few ivy-mantled walls pierced with Gothic arches, whose crumbling stones retain the ball-flower ornamentation of the Decorated period. The neighbouring parish church has, alas! been swept and garnished by iconoclastic hands, which have ruthlessly bereft the fabric of every feature of interest.

Our investigations completed, we betake ourselves to the Cardigan terminus, and travel thence over the branch line of the Great Western Railway as far as Crymmych-Arms Station. Beyond Kilgerran the line traverses some pretty furze-clad dingles, and, as we approach our destination, mounts in short, sharp curves towards the high ground that forms the watershed of northern Pembrokeshire.

From the summit level, some 700 feet above the sea, we command a n.o.ble prospect of the Precelly range, and the more remote hills about Newport Bay and Fishguard; the effect being heightened by the sunset glow, while a brilliant rainbow spans the purple clouds that brood over the loftier crests of the distant mountains.

At Crymmych we avail ourselves of such accommodation as the wayside inn affords, intending to start away bright and early upon the morrow's explorations.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CROMLECH AT NEWPORT.]

CHAPTER XI.

A RAMBLE OVER PRECELLY HILLS, TO THE SOURCES OF THE CLEDDAU.

The broad gra.s.sy slopes of Fryn-y-Fawr, (or Vrenny Vawr, as they p.r.o.nounce it), a big isolated hill to the east of Crymmych-Arms, afford a pleasant morning's stroll, with a widespreading outlook at the end of it. The mountain road by which we approach the monticle follows the course of the ancient trackway called Fordd-Fleming, which we presently exchange for the open, heathery hillside; going as we please for the tall green tumulus that marks the summit.

Save towards the west, where the higher Precelly range intercepts the view, the prospect is wide and unrestricted, comprising nearly the whole of Pembrokeshire, with its setting of silvery sea, and a vast stretch of South Wales, including the peninsula of Gower; while the northern horizon is bounded by the remote Northwallian hills, amongst which, if the day be clear, the peak of Snowdon may possibly be distinguished.

Descending by the opposite end of the hill, we pa.s.s a small homestead, whose name indicates that the source of the Nevern River is near at hand.

Somewhere within the flanks of Fryn-y-Fawr, there lies hid (according to the tradition of the countryside) a leaden casket packed full with untold gold. The _genius loci_ that guards this mysterious treasure takes the form of a violent tempest, which bursts, in thunder and lightning, around the head of the man who is foolhardy enough to seek to possess himself of the forbidden prize.