220 ANOTHER DAY ON THE HILL 



LII 



The first glance across my window-sill this morning 

 Another Day (September 29) revealed a changed world, 

 on the Hill gaid w i n( }ow-sill is the respectable height of 

 1250 feet above the sea, but all around tower hills 2000 

 feet higher. Last night, when the sun set upon them, 

 their summer verdure was altered no whit, the heather 

 still carried a roseate flush; but this morning every- 

 thing above the level of 2500 feet is white with thick 

 snow. Presents itself, therefore, the ever-recurring 

 problem, what clothes to wear in stalking whether is 

 it most endurable to suffer from too thick garments 

 or to shiver in too thin ? The problem, indeed, has 

 been shorn of much of its complexity by that 

 admirable invention, the 'aqua-scutum.' Light it 

 adds nothing perceptible to one's load; long, wind 

 and water proof it can be slipped over all or shaken 

 off in a moment; soft it has none of the hateful 

 clamminess of the macintosh ; in short, every hillman 

 has pronounced the ' aqua-scutum ' indispensable ; and 

 considering how much discomfort it has warded off, I 

 should be wanting in common decency if my tribute to 

 its merits were short of heart-whole. I left mine in 

 a hansom one day last summer, and had to repair to 

 the police Bastille upon the Victoria Embankment to 

 recover it. On being asked, as usual, to declare the 

 value of the article, ' Two pounds,' quoth I, not without 

 compunction, well knowing that whatever were its 

 price, its value was beyond rubies. The constable 



