Part 11 (2/2)
In a remote untended corner of the church lies the mutilated effigy of an ecclesiastic, whose sober livery, and wallet embellished with scallop-sh.e.l.ls, mark him as a pilgrim who has crossed the seas to the shrine of St. James of Compostella, in Spain.
Pa.s.sing out by the north porch, we observe a pair of tall, carved bench-ends, on one of which St. George is seen in combat with a triple-headed dragon. A sketch of this bench-end will be found at the head of Chapter XII.
After glancing at St. Martin's, the mother church of Haverfordwest, with its slender, crooked spire, we turn townwards again as dusk creeps on, and come to anchor at the Mariners Hotel. The old-fas.h.i.+oned hospitality of this comfortable inn is a welcome relief after a long day's tramp, so we cannot do better than make it our headquarters while exploring the surrounding country.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ARMS OF HAVERFORDWEST.]
CHAPTER VII.
TO ST. BRIDES, MARLOES AND THE DALE COUNTRY.
The irregular island-girt peninsula lying between Milford Haven and St.
Bride's Bay presents but few attractions for the ordinary tourist, to whom, indeed, this portion of Pembrokes.h.i.+re is practically a _terra incognita_. Nevertheless, the locality has its own characteristic features, which the appreciative traveller will probably enjoy none the less for having to discover them for himself, unaided by the guide-books.
Availing ourselves of one of the numerous vehicles that ply during summer-time between Haverfordwest and the sea-coast, we escape a tedious tramp of some seven miles or more.
About half-way out our attention is called to a plain, rough stone close by the wayside. This is known as Hang-stone Davey, from the fact that a noted sheep-stealer of that ilk, halting to rest upon the stone with his ill-gotten booty slung around his neck, fell asleep and was strangled by the weight of his burden.
Presently the blue sea opens out ahead, and the lane makes a sudden turn over against a lonely country church. As we approach it, the little edifice presents such a curious medley of gables and turrets, as to tempt us to closer inspection.
[Ill.u.s.tration: WALTON WEST CHURCH.]
Walton-West church has been carefully and wisely restored of recent years, and not before it was needed, for it is on record that in the 'good old times' two boys were kept at work on rainy Sundays, sweeping the water that flowed in at the porch into a pit formed in a disused pew. Eventually matters were brought to a climax by the snow falling through a rent in the roof, and lodging upon the bald head of an ancient wors.h.i.+pper! As usual, the tower, which appears never to have been completed, is the oldest remaining portion of the fabric; indeed, it has been considered as pre-Norman, a stone having, as we are informed, been found in the wall bearing the date A.D. 993. A small effigy, apparently of the Elizabethan period, built into the interior of the tower, is usually supposed to represent the patron saint of the church. Upon the north side of the chancel stands a well-proportioned chapel that formerly appertained to the family of Lort-Philipps.
[Ill.u.s.tration: WALWYN'S CASTLE.]
In an out-of-the-way spot, about a mile to the southward, lies the secluded hamlet of Walwyn's Castle. The distance is nearly doubled by the crooked lanes, but a pleasant field-path saves a longer _detour_.
From the brow of the hill we have three churches full in view, in diminis.h.i.+ng perspective--Walwyn's Castle, down in the valley: Robeston, farther away; and Steynton, conspicuous upon a distant hill.
[Ill.u.s.tration: SUMMER SHOWERS LITTLE HAVEN.]
The church of Walwyn's Castle stands upon a gentle eminence that slopes to a hollow, wooded dingle overhanging a streamlet, whose waters meander away to a creek of the ubiquitous Haven.
The salient feature of the edifice is its tall, slender tower, and narrow stair-turret rising to the embattled roof. Upon the southern side the land falls away steeply, and the brow of the bank is scored with the gra.s.sy mounds of the ancient camp or castle, whence the place derives its curious name.
In an old black-letter chronicle of the sixteenth century it is recorded, 'In the Province of Wales which is callyd Roose, the sepulchre of Walwyne was found. He reigned in that parte of Britain which is callyd Walwythia. The Tombe was found in the days of William the Conqueror, King of England, upon the sea side, and contayned in length fourteen foote.'
A local variation of this time-honoured fable avers that Walwyn was buried on the site of the above-mentioned camp, and a sort of arched aperture, now fallen in and well-nigh obliterated, was formerly pointed out as the burial-place of this very 'lofty' hero.
[Ill.u.s.tration: LITTLE HAVEN.]
Returning now to Walton, we descend a short but extremely steep bit of road to the village of Little Haven. A few fishermen's cottages, a homely inn and a handful of lodging-houses clambering up the rearward hill, form the sum total of this most diminutive of watering-places.
[Ill.u.s.tration: LOW TIDE AT LITTLE HAVEN.]
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