afterwards pulled myself westward by means of the chains and posts already referred to, but in doing which I was frequently obliged to turn my face to leeward to gasp for breath or to avoid getting it cut with the sharp gravel which was blown up from the beach on to the parade. The tides were at their neap, and not much danger was therefore apprehended from that source; but the sea itself was quite phenomenal in its appearance. It seemed to boil with rate; and as far as could be compassed by the range of vision it was one vast mass of seething and foaming fluid. Six of the large elm-trees were up-rooted at the entrance to Hastings, a barn at Bohemia was blown down, a Government galley was carried off the beach into the sea and never recovered, and at a hop-sweepstakes dinner, in the Royal Oak hotel, the party were seriously alarmed at the intrusion through the window of a number of slates in their descent from the roof. These are but a few instances of the wreckage caused by the November tempest of 1836, for my memory serves me not to recount a tithe of the widespread havoc even in St. Leonards and Hastings. A similar effect was experienced all along the south coast and over an area of many miles inland. Chimneys, roofs, barns, out-houses, stacks and trees were destroyed in all directions, and the total loss was perhaps beyond the means of calculation. Rye sustained several thousand pounds' worth of damage, and Lewes a still larger amount, whilst at Brighton the destruction was immense, including the loss of the Chain Pier, with several human lives.
The Great Snow Storm of 1836
If what I have already narrated respecting the hurricane of Nov 29th, the deep snows of Good Friday and Oct. 29th, the cold and wet period from January to May the remarkably fine but brief summer, and the unusually wet and turbulent autumn, be not enough to prove the phenomenal character of the weather during 1836, then the description which follows of the deepest snow within memory will I opine, be sufficiently convincing. On the 24th of Dec. the weather was extremely mild until the approach of evening when it became suddenly cold, and during the night the temperature fell as much as 25 degrees. This was accompanied by the commencement of a snowstorm of a magnitude and intensity the equal of which if not on record. It continued throughout the night until the breakfast hour of Christmas Day, when it abated until about two o'clock in the afternoon, just as the majority of people would be sitting down to their Christmas dinner. It happened that I was one of those sorry wights whose parents, a year previously, were evicted by the Woods and Forests Commissioners from squatter-land at the Priory; and on the day of days now under consideration, I rejoined the family circle in the "old house at home" at St. Andrew's terrace (now Queen's road), which had been reconstructed with the materials from the original site. Scarcely, however, had my appetite been whetted by the luscious odours of roast-beef and plum-pudding when a Job's messenger in the person of Mr. Ives, came to acquaint me of a disaster which required my attention in another part of Hastings. The habitation of my employer at that time was in the neighbourhood of George street, and my own dormitory facing the east, and overlooking other houses, was exposed to the merciless blast, which carried away the window casement, and filled the room with snow, so as to block up the door on the inside against all comers. Incompetent to devise a remedy, and not particularly refreshed with the loss of my dinner or with the wading through a mile of deep snow, it became my duty to seek my master's whereabouts and to hurry him also away from friends whome he and his lady had joined away from home on that snowy, frosty, festive occasion. He was not very well pleased- and I should like to know what "manner of man" is he who would have been in any way delighted under the like trying circumstances. Albeit, away we went together, and having provided ourselves with a hammer to knock out a panel of the bed-room door, a spade to cut a passage across the floor, and some canvas to take the pace of the absent window, we soon effected a temporary remedy, and I was desired to secure my next night's lodgings at the Cutter Inn. This art of my personal experience will prepare the younger portion of my readers for what is to follow. I slept - or rather tried to sleep - at the Cutter, as desired, and in conformity with my habit of early-rising, I dressed myself next morning long before daylight, and whilst pacing the cold room, longed for an opportunity of getting out of the house. But how was the desire to be gratified? At peep o' day I beheld the snow which had fallen unceasingly during the night nearly up to the first floor windows; thus making prisoners of all the inmates until, a few hours later, when some fishermen had cut a passage up from the beach to the front door of the inn in question. Once disincarcerated (sic), I strove to get into George street, but the thing was totally impossible of accomplishment. Every avenue was blocked - some to the height of ten or twelve feet, and my only chance was to walk along the beach near the edge of the water until I could find a place that had been partially bared of the fleecy mass by the action of the wind. This was at the western end of Marine parade, near to the ship-building yard of Messrs. Thwaites and Winter (now the site of the Russian gun and ornamental enclosure). By that time, however the morning was pretty well advanced, and although the roadways were totally impassible for either horse or vehicle, men and boys were abroad; and, by compressing the snow, had begun to track out a path, varying from two to six feet above the pavement, yet at some places as many feet below the untrodden mass in the centre of the streets. Following this track, I managed to get to my employer's house about noon, where I obtained a spade and commenced cutting a way up to Burdett place, where was imprisoned the business partner of the gentleman referred to, together with his family. With the latter, according to arrangement, I was a boarder, and when I say that it was nearly three o'clock when I completed the passage whither a breakfast was to be obtained, my readers will imagine how welcome was the refreshment to my weary and hungry corporeality.
The Christmas Day of 1836 fell on a Sunday, so that the day in question was a day of abstention from work in a two-fold sense; but it was the unprecedented snowstorm more than anything else which fixed it upon peoples# memories. I have already stated that it commenced on Christmas Eve; that it ceased for a few hours, and that it re-commenced at about 2 p m., to continue uninterruptedly throughout the following night. My own personal encounters with the hoary giant have also been narrated, the interest of which might probably pale before the more luminous experience of that memorable storm by many a living townsman. Mr. Golding, Mr. Burton's toll-gate keeper, just above North Lodge, could have told that as his cottage was buried, he had to let in daylight by knocking out some portion of the roof. Mr. Samuel Steers, shepherd to Mr. E. Milward, could also have described his difficulties in getting out of his buried cottage on the West Hill, at Hastings, whilst many another person could each have told a tale of rare adventure.
The Hastings police force had been at that time only six months in existence, and it is possible that Inspector Campbell could have told of hair-breadth escapes or of some ludicrous predicaments occasioned by the rigorous atmospheric phenomenon. He could also have told the name of the policemen who was found on Monday morning in an almost lifeless condition on the snow-buried steps at East Ascent, and who was restored to consciousness at the Coach-and-Horses, in Mews road, which was then kept by one William Kirby. If I mistake not, the said William Kirby was one of the employees of riding-master Stevens, in whose mews the mail-coaches were housed, but from which the up-coach could not be sent out for several days, and to which the down-coach could not return until it had been dug out of the Ore-hollow portion of the London-road. It was there that the horses, coachman, guard and passengers were all abruptly precipitated into the already deep snow, and were only extricated with the assistance of about forty men. Among these deliverers were Messrs. Foord, Hyland and others, and it was only after very severe exertions that they accomplished their purpose. As the up-coach could not proceed even on the Sunday night, an attempt was made to carry the mail-bags on horseback, but so blinding was the storm and so utterly traceless was the road, that ere the site of Warrior square was reached, both the horse and the guard, together with Mr. Thos. Ranger - who had volunteered his assistance - found themselves on the steps and railings of the houses. After an arduous, not to say perilous, journey, which occupied one hour and three-quarters, the mail-bags were got from St. Leonards to Hastings. It was then judged to be impracticable to proceed further; but as the Post-master was chary of his own authority to veto the attempt, the guard was sent back to Breeds place, where an Inspector from the General Post-office happened to be staying. This gentleman had just retired to rest, but after consultation with the guard, he left it to the latter's option whether the journey should be undertaken. The red-coated courier declined the hazardous journey; and, as it turned out, his decision was a wise one. From that time until December 30th - a period of five days and nights - there was no post to or from London; but on Tuesday, the 27th, five men undertook to convey to the metropolis some important despatches from gentlemen who had come to St. Leonards to consult Mr. Burton on business matters and had got snow-bound. The names of the intrepid messengers were William and Thomas Ranger (brothers), Robert Brazier, "Fox" Prior, and - Gasson. They had also to deliver some letters from Mr. Elphinstone to a banker and to some other persons, en route. They started from the Horse-and-Groom at about three, p.m., and by dint of pluck, caution, topographical knowledge, and physical endurance, they managed to get to Battle before the refreshment houses were closed. There the wants of the inner man were supplied, but not till the outer man had received some attention, for, what with their saturated garments, their lacerated hands, their bleeding cases, and their generally rough appearance, these wayfarers might have been mistaken for a band of footpads just emerged from some murderous conflict. After they had partaken of their much needed refreshment, they resumed their weary way, not over a partly trodden course, hardened by frost; now through the drifted snow, with the crystal fields towering over their heads; and now over hidden hedges into rivers, ponds or swamps. The foremost man had a rope tied round his body, and whenever he came to grief, he was hauled back by his comrades, and the course was diverted.
In the way thus described they traveled throughout the night, passing Robertsbridge, Lamberhurst, and other towns or villages, and arriving, after many hair breadth es-
