urs' journey across
magnificent country from Haverfordwest in Pembrokeshire, or you may
approach it along a wild, hilly road from Fishguard.

St. Davids is unique: it is literally both village and city. Situated
right by the coast of picturesque St. Bride's Bay on one side and
Whitesand Bay on the other, it occupies a position of peculiar beauty.
Good bathing, fishing and shooting abound; there is a golf course, and,
chief of its attractions, the glorious Norman architecture of its
jewel-like cathedral, its ancient monastic ruins, its old cross and all
the other relics of the careful work of the old ecclesiastical builders
in the far-away days.

[Illustration: _St. David's Cathedral_]

[Illustration]

THE VENGEANCE OF THE FAIRIES

Overlooking the sea that washes the beautiful coast of the Gower
Peninsula in Glamorganshire stands the ruined castle of Pennard. All
about it is a waste of sandhills, beneath which, so the old stories have
it, a considerable village lies buried. For it is told that in the old
days, when the lands about Pennard were fertile and populous, the lord
of the castle was holding a great feast one day to rejoice over the
wedding of his daughter.

This happy event was being celebrated by the villagers too, and, unknown
to lord or serf, by the "Tylwyth Teg," or the fairy folk who abounded in
the neighbourhood, for the little people enjoy an innocent merry-making
as much as do mere mortals.

And that night, long after the villagers had gone to bed, the
festivities in the castle were continued. Wine flowed free and the
revellers became more and more boisterous. From mere jesting they came
to quarrelling, and, in the midst of their drunken orgy, there was heard
an alarm. A sentry on the walls of the castle reported that he heard
stealthy movements in the distance as of a large number of people
approaching with care.

The frenzied warriors, fearing a surprise from their enemies, armed
themselves and rushed from the castle to attack the intruders. They,
too, could hear a gentle murmur in the valley below, and towards it they
charged, uttering terrible threats, striking right and left with their
swords at the unseen foe. But, apart from a few shadowy forms that
quickly faded away into the undergrowth, nothing was to be seen, and at
length the knights and soldiers returned rather crestfallen, and much
more sober, to their stronghold.

Now the truth of the whole matter was that the alarm had