The Fishguard Invasion by the French in 1797

ay, the twenty-second of the month, and it was indeed the most pleasant day for that harsh s

for seventy years well-nigh-remarkable as fine days are in this climate that is chiefly renowned for fine rain; but for the reason that this particular Wednesda

y them as a means of terror wherewith to hush to sleep unquiet

own I did not always enjoy it. I trust that I may say without undue boasting that I did not fear anything greatly as long as it was out of sight, for which reason I have often thought that had I been born a generation or two later, and had I selected a soldier's career i

in 1797, I, Daniel Rowlands, clerk, being aged, but still of sound mind, have written this narrative-which when duly set forth will, I

dland of that name, led astray by the beauty of the day, which seemed too fair for book-lore; I was strolling along, doing nothing, thinking of nothing, wishing for nothing, yet, having found for t

shouted, in our own tongue.

g hoofs. His voice or my ears failed, for I heard no more save-when the thunder of the hoofs had cea

and without any keen interest-at a little distance further along the cliff I espied the owner of Trelethin, John's master, standing very firm on his legs against a background of bright sea, his head inclining somewhat backward, while with both his raised-up hands he clutched a long spy glass, the small end whereof was applied to his eye. Following the direction of his spy-glass, I perceived a yet more astounding sight-astounding to us used to the world of lonely waters

rom pride-"Take a look at the blessed Frenchmen." (He did not say exactly

, real, tangible, and startling, for having shirked my studies. With a little help from imagination (his and mine, which might act on each other as flint on steel, for he was an excitable man), I trusted I might so alarm my cl

olours, sir," I sa

s time he again had applied the spy-glass.) "Ah!" he continued, handing the glass to his wife who had joined us, "If

wards immortalised by a l

Trelethin was

to Greenland

relethin was ta

cry out-The

t flood of light. They went northward-along our Pembrokeshire coast, where (had Providence so willed it) they

the curiosity of their sex, came forth from their homesteads, leaving the cawl [51] and the children to min

n, at rare intervals, where a stream ran into the sea, we would dip suddenly into a smiling little valley filled with trees and bushes. But the stones and crags prevailed greatly over the softer scenes. I had now entered so fully into the spirit of this race that all thought of my studies passed away; the fear of the domi

ble from it, and in truth from most other places. We had now come from St. David's Head, a distance of full ten miles, and I, for one, was glad to sit down on a gorse-bush and meditate a little as to what all these things might mean and where they were like to end, which I ha