he education of youths
intended for the ministry of the Church of England. It is a neat
quadrate edifice with a courtyard in which stands a large stone basin.
From the courtyard you enter a spacious dining-hall, over the door of
which hangs a well-executed portrait of the good bishop. From the hall
you ascend by a handsome staircase to the library, a large and lightsome
room, well stored with books in various languages. The grand curiosity
is a manuscript Codex containing a Latin synopsis of Scripture which once
belonged to the monks of Bangor Is Coed. It bears marks of blood with
which it was sprinkled when the monks were massacred by the heathen
Saxons, at the instigation of Austin the Pope's missionary in Britain.
The number of students seldom exceeds forty.

It might be about half-past two in the afternoon when I left Lampeter. I
passed over a bridge, taking the road to Llandovery which, however, I had
no intention of attempting to reach that night, as it was considerably
upwards of twenty miles distant. The road lay, seemingly, due east.
After walking very briskly for about an hour I came to a very small
hamlet consisting of not more than six or seven houses; of these three
seemed to be public-houses, as they bore large flaming signs. Seeing
three rather shabby-looking fellows standing chatting with their hands in
their pockets, I stopped and inquired in English the name of the place.

"Pen--- something," said one of them, who had a red face and a large
carbuncle on his nose, which served to distinguish him from his
companions, who though they had both very rubicund faces had no
carbuncles.

"It seems rather a small place to maintain three public-houses," said I;
"how do the publicans manage to live?"

"Oh, tolerably well, sir; we get bread and cheese and have a groat in our
pockets. No great reason to complain; have we, neighbours?"

"No! no great reason to complain," said the other two.

"Dear me!" said I; "are you the publicans?"

"We are, sir," said the man with the carbuncle on his nose, "and shall be
each of us glad to treat you to a pint in his own house in order to
welcome you to Shire Car--shan't we, neighbours?"

"Yes, in truth we shall," said the other two.

"By Shire Car," said I, "I suppose you mean Shire Cardigan?"

"Shire Cardigan!" said the man; "no indeed; by Shire Car is meant
Carmarthenshire. Your honour has left beggarly Cardigan some way behind
you. Come, your honour, come