THE UPLANDS IN WINTER 1 1 3 



was falling softly and evenly, and was unbroken 

 by any recent track of sleigh or man. Beyond 

 we began to feel the great sweep of the wind from 

 the north across the marshes, and its biting breath 

 and sharp snow crystals made us pull our caps 

 over our faces. At the farther side of Burnham\s 

 Hill the road became impassable; it was packed 

 with drifts from side to side. I knew from old 

 experience that this condition must extend as 

 far as the North-Gate Road, and that the only 

 escape was to take to the fields to the north on 

 the edge of the salt marsh. In the darkness and 

 whirling snow, we had blundered into the drifts 

 without seeing them, and only by slowly and pain- 

 fully walking on our knees we were enabled to 

 escape. Attempts to walk on our feet resulted 

 in our sinking into the drift above our waists 

 when progress was necessarily very slow. In 

 the fields all recent snow had been instantly 

 stripped off by the winds which went roaring by 

 to deposit its burden in the road in the lee ot the 

 stone wall and bushes, and a glossy crust, not 

 strong enough to support us, and breaking at each 

 step, here made our progress slow. It was a wild 



