to recall our first excursion into Gower.

Let us fancy ourselves therefore, on a bright April morning, riding
along with a friend--a stranger like ourselves--on the high road from
Swansea into the interior of the peninsula. After cantering over about
seven miles of hill and valley and common, we entered a woody defile,
and at last opened, to use a nautical phrase, the "Gower inn," (eight
miles) which was built, we were told, expressly for the convenience of
tourists. After ascending a tremendous rocky hill, for road it cannot
be called, about a mile onwards, Oxwich Bay bursts at last in all its
beauty upon our sight. In our inquiries during the day, of the few
passengers we met, as to the distance of the village of Penrice, the
intended limit of our day's excursion, we were forcibly reminded of the
"mile and a bittock" of the north. The country is very thinly populated
here: at last we came in sight of the grounds of Penrice Castle, the
beautiful mansion of Mr. Talbot, the member for the county; the entrance
to the park is between two of the towers belonging to the extensive and
picturesque remains of the ancient Castle of Penrice, which stands close
to the road. Sixteen miles from Swansea, after "curses not loud but
deep" upon Welsh roads, we reached the sequestered village of Penrice,
which stands on a wooded eminence of no easy access, overlooking the
eastern shore of Oxwich Bay.

(_To be continued._)

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