Truro.—At the cathedral city of Cornwall trade was at a complete standstill for days, owing to the heavy fall of snow. Snow lay three feet deep in all the roads outside the town, and, going farther into the country, the drifts were from ten to twelve feet deep. Great damage was done to property, and some accidents, none of them, however, having a fatal termination, occurred. To make matters worse for those having business matters to look after, the train service was altogether disorganised. The "Dutchman" arrived on Monday night forty minutes late, and then had to wait the arrival of the train from Falmouth. This, due at Truro at 7·25, did not arrive until ten minutes to nine. Its course was blocked by fallen telegraph poles and wires, which had to be cut away before the train could proceed, the most serious obstacle being between Penryn and Perranwell. The "Dutchman" had to pass by Grampound Road at full speed, or it would probably have been in danger of being embedded in the snow. It was only when the end of this memorable week had been reached that telegraphic and other communication with neighbouring towns was restored, and that the city once more returned to its usual condition of comfort and tranquillity.
[CHAPTER VI.]
IN PARK AND FOREST.
There is no stronger testimony to the overwhelmingly destructive character of the blizzard of March, 1891, than that afforded by the spectacle of thousands of forest trees, that had, in numerous instances, withstood the storms of centuries, lying, some with their roots above ground, others snapped short off or twisted asunder, but all mercilessly and hopelessly wrecked. Many of these fallen monarchs had experienced heavier gales undoubtedly, but they had not been so rapidly laden with the heavy burden of clinging snow that caused them to sway and stagger, and rendered them helpless victims to the fury of the blast. The effects of this blizzard-like nature of the storm are apparent in the peculiar form the havoc in the parks and forests has assumed—some trees appearing as if the tops had been wrenched off, and in other instances a trunk being left standing—a mere bare pole—denuded of all its branches. Many trees that were old and feeble weathered the storm best, the apparent cause being that their stronger brethren sheltered them from the fatal garment of snow as much as from the gale, and that when the protector at last fell the fury of the blast was spent.
The manner in which the snow clung to, rather than fell upon, all objects that it encountered, is strikingly shown in the accompanying illustration of Membland after the storm. The illustration is from a photograph of a water-colour drawing. The photograph, and the following narrative, have been courteously supplied to us by one who was a deeply interested spectator of the scene:—
"At Membland, Lord Revelstoke's place ten miles from Plymouth at the mouth of the Yealm, the devastation and havoc caused by the storm of the 9th of March are indescribable.
"The appearance of the house on the Wednesday following, the 11th, will not easily be forgotten by its inmates. That Wednesday was a glorious day of sunshine. The house was entirely, to all appearance, snowed up to the top storey; the wind in its fierceness having flung the snow against the house, where it froze on the windows, giving a weird look; a pane of glass here and there coming out in relief, and prismatic colours darting across, in and out of the snow where the sun shone in full power.
"Where the ivy covers the north side, the effect was very beautiful: each leaf covered as it were with a bell of crystal, and festoons of crystal hanging down in every direction. Outside the front door the snow was fourteen feet deep. From eight to ten on that memorable Monday evening when the storm was at its height, the gardener, Mr. Baker, stood out and saw the trees right and left, here rooted up, there felled down with the rapidity and report of a volley of musketry. Over a thousand trees are down, among them the finest trees surrounding the house, and which can ill be spared, such as the Insignis, the Ilex, &c. Every orchard is laid low.