330 WILD TLOWEES OF 



copying of the above quotation from a neglected MS., 

 reminds me of the terrors of a companion, who once 

 accompanied me on a summer excursion into South 

 Wales. I was then paying my second pilgrimage to 

 the shrine of St. David, to reap the benefit of the 

 ancient declaration, that two journeys to Ty Dewi, the 

 hallowed home of the Patron Saint of leek-crowned 

 Welshmen;* should stand good in the heavenly ac- 

 count as equivalent to one to Eome ; and having got 

 this duly certified to my credit, I must needs also 

 make a further move, by way of securing an extra 

 indulgence, in visiting that island on the coast of 

 Pembroke (Ramsay), where, it is said, ten thousand 

 saints repose in their narrow cells ! 



This island being more than three miles from the 

 shore, of course some assistance was necessary to 

 reach it ; but the regular boatman being unable to go, 

 we accepted the offer of two young Cambrians to 

 convoy us, not being then aware that one of them had 

 never been on the island, the other only once, and 

 both very inexperienced in nautical affairs. But all 

 was bright, the sea calm and flattering, the air still ; 

 and the coast of Eamsay appeared over the blue 

 waters, as if almost within a stone's throw of us. 

 Off! was the word, then splash went the oars : the 

 ruined chapel of St. Justinian nodded as we receded 

 from it, nor did we, even in the ecstacy of excitement, 

 think of saying for a moment " my native land good 



* The old monkish rhyme ends thus 



" Roma semel quantum 

 Dat bis Menevia tantum." 



Or to Anglicize it in equally bad verse 



Poor Menevia (St. David's) gives at twice 

 What at Rome you get in a trice ! 



