A ROOM AT WALREDDON MANOR, TAVISTOCK.
Snow effects resulting from this storm were remarkable in many places, but perhaps none could be found more striking than the illustration we give of the result of leaving open, a few inches, a lattice window, facing north, at Walreddon Manor, near Tavistock, on the night of Monday, March 9th. The illustration is from a photograph kindly supplied by Henry D. Nicholson, Esq.
At the Land's End the gale was very severe, and the snowed-up passengers on the omnibus from Penzance to St. Just on Monday night had a dreadful time. They left Penzance about six o'clock, and should have reached St. Just by half-past seven, but it was nine o'clock before the 'bus reached the point where it had to remain, some three miles from St. Just. The horses failed to proceed, and the driver, a young man about 20, was also very much exhausted. He unhitched the horses, and proceeded to a farmhouse near and asked for shelter. This was refused him, the people of the house saying that there was no room for the horses, as all their cattle were in the house. He begged for admittance, and offered to stand by the horses all night, but he was again refused. Not knowing what else to do, he took the harness off the horses, turned their heads towards St. Just, and told them to go home. The horses went off in the darkness, and he saw them no more. They did not reach home, but were recovered alive next day. The driver returned to his passengers in the omnibus, and remained with them until midday on Tuesday.
Mr. William Penrose, of Bojewan, St. Just, had also a terrible experience on Monday night. He arrived at Penzance by the half-past six down-train, intending to catch the omnibus, but, finding it gone, he walked after it. Not catching it, he struggled on through the storm for several hours. Some time in the night he found himself near a farmhouse. The people of the house had gone to bed, and there was no light, but he knocked vigorously at the door, succeeded in awaking the inmates, and asked to be admitted, as he was well nigh exhausted. The farmer, however, refused to admit him, and, after a long rest under the shelter of the house, he battled again with the storm, determined to make another effort for life. He finally reached the snowed-up omnibus at six in the morning more dead than alive, having been exposed to the storm for twelve hours. Instances of inhospitality such as these were rare during the blizzard, and they are worth recording on that account.
Mr. Theo H. Willcocks relates as follows:—
"On the memorable Monday night, the storm raging furiously and showing no signs of abating, I left the Molesworth Arms, Wadebridge, at about eight o'clock, after being persuaded to do otherwise by the worthy proprietor, Mr. S. Pollard, and numerous other friends, and made tracks for Tregorden, some two miles distant. The town itself was desolate in the extreme, the streets being absolutely deserted except by a passing chimney-pot or tile.
"The wind howled and whistled as I wended my way over the bridge, hurling the flakes in my face with almost blinding force, but at the far end I found myself greatly sheltered, and made fairly good progress over the hill until I reached Ball, where I encountered the full force of the gale. It must have taken me at least ten minutes making 100 yards, at the end of which I was thoroughly exhausted, but managed to reach the cottage occupied by Eliza Burton, which I entered; after furiously rapping the door to wake the inmates, who had retired for the night. Here I received the kindest attention, also severe ridicule from 'Dick,' a person of no mean size, and the man of the house, for being obliged to seek help. He immediately volunteered to accompany me, so after lighting a lantern, and getting tied up securely, as we thought, from the tempest we closed the door behind us.
"By this time the snow in the highway was several inches in depth, and the storm raged with greater fury than ever. On turning down Tregorden Lane, this road, though running nearly at right angles to the wind, was being rapidly filled, for the blizzard came rushing across a twelve-acre field, with nothing to impede its course, and, gathering the snow up in clouds, whirled it along until it reached this sheltered lane, where it came over the hedge and through the bushes in streams of sleet, and it was as though we were inhaling icicles, for when we turned our backs it was just the same. It pierced our clothes, freezing as it did so, and our hair and necks became saturated with the driving snow which formed into a mass of ice. The lane was rapidly becoming impassable, the snow being now even up to our waists. In this state we plodded along for a short distance, I being determined that this time 'Dick' should be the first to be beaten, and I had not long to wait, for he gasped out 'Let's turn back, I am done;' so round we turned and struggled back to the cottage more dead than alive, having been out for some twenty-five minutes. Eliza, prophesying our return, had by this time got up a roaring fire, and at once forced some hot brandy down our throats, after which we changed our stiff clothes and made ourselves comfortable for the night before the fire, and I enjoyed a cup of tea as I did not know how to before." On the following day the narrator was able to proceed to Tregorden.
Among other peculiar and beautiful forms taken by the blizzard snow, and seen with great effect during the sunshine of the Wednesday after the storm, were the huge, shell-shaped hollows scooped out by the wind from the snow-drifts. An examination of many of our illustrations will reveal examples of this very unusual feature. In the accompanying scene, which is a view of a drift in the Liskeard cricket field, the peculiarity is very marked, the hollow being apparently sufficiently deep to cause the surface of the drift to overhang for some two or three feet.