222 WITH SCOTT: THE SILVER LINING 



blizzard gave a thick series of vertical lines, so close together 

 that a broad ribbon almost resulted. The north wind was 

 never so strong, and the lines were shorter and less close 

 together. 



To understand the working of the blizzometer, let us 

 accompany the night watchman. He has been engaged on 

 his diary, maybe, till nearly midnight, when a complete set of 

 observations are to be taken. He goes to the blizzometer to 

 see what particular virulence of blizzard he has to face, and 

 sees that the pen is motionless at the bottom of the paper — 

 having dropped down after tracing gusts of sixty miles an 

 hour. The night watchman feels depressed. He has to go 

 and inspect thermometers and barometers and various other 

 -ometers, but had hoped he would be spared " clearing the 

 head " of the blizzometer. However, he wraps up well, and, 

 carrying an electric lamp, ventures out round the south of the 

 hut. He reads the thermometer at the most exposed corner, 

 and then glances up to the roof-ridge and wonders whether 

 he'll be blown off or not. In a sheltered nook he finds a 

 brush of wires, and clutching this he climbs up a ladder to the 

 roof. He feels the hut vibrating under the blizzard, and the 

 drift shoots past him to the north. He clutches a metal tube 

 projecting two feet above the ridge, and proceeds to prod the 

 wires into its orifice, which faces the blizzard. A plug of drift 

 snow breaks loose, and the wind once more drives freely into 

 the nozzle of the blizzometer. It rushes down the tube into 

 the hut and enters the base of the instrument. Here it passes 

 under and into a metal bell floating in paraffin. The pressure 

 raises this float, and of course raises a piston attached to it 

 above. The piston passes through a gland to the outside and 

 carries the pen at its upper end. Thus with every gust the 

 piston (and pen) rises and falls, and a record is made directly 

 on the rotating drum. The watchman warms his hands inside 

 his jacket, and when feeling has returned to them he trudges 

 into the hut, and devoutly prays the "head" will remain 

 unchoked all night. 



At this period our hut interior looked neat but not gaudy. 

 Later, the continual tramping in of boots carrying snow and 

 gravel, somewhat detracted from the neatness ; but luckily, in 

 the absence of brilliant illumination, no one was perturbed by 

 the accumulation of " matter in the wrong place " which soon 



