From the high ground above the hamlet, where we halted a moment to take breath, we overlooked a scene which resembled a rude cast in white of the familiar countryside. Many landmarks were disguised beyond recognition, and the waters of Mount’s Bay, generally like a liquid gem of the deepest blue, looked dull as lead. The newly-risen sun loomed big through the frost-fog which its rays could not penetrate, and a man with weak eyes might have stared at the dull crimson orb without blinking. In the hollow immediately below us, an old labourer, with a big faggot of furze on his back, was staggering across a yard, his feet sinking at every step deeper and deeper into the snow, as he made for the closed door of the farmhouse against which it had drifted. It must be admitted that the snowfall, heavy as it was, could not be compared to the great blizzard of later years, which blocked the railway, isolated the dwellers in the country, and but for his knowledge of the position of a starveling tree on the edge of a quarry, would probably have cost the Earthstopper his life. Nevertheless, wildfowl were quite as abundant; and as the Looe Pool, Marazion Marsh, and other resorts became frozen over, they had to shift their quarters, and ultimately to settle on the sea.
[Illustration: ST MICHAEL’S MOUNT. [_Face page 194._]
More than one skein of duck had passed high overhead since daybreak, flying westward, but none so big as the great flock of widgeon which we saw, some four gunshots above us, as we were turning into the marshy moor near Tremayne plantation, where our sport was to begin. This piece of undrained ground was, may be is, shaped like a triangle. Tussocks of rushes just showed above the snow, and a runnel, winding in and out among them, ran chattering between a double frill of ice. We had not advanced many steps before a snipe rose, to fall to the first barrel, and soon after a wisp got up out of range, and flew away in the direction of the Big Downs. Following the running water, we approached the corner, where rushes gave place to a brambly thicket, between which and the stone walls behind grew a few gnarled holly-bushes. The spaniels were hardly in this cover before they flushed a woodcock. Bang! bang! and the bird fell on our side of the wall. The smoke had not cleared when another rose from the other side, where a few withes skirted the runnel. It afforded the easiest of shots; but, alas! both barrels were empty, and the reloading of a muzzle-loader takes time. We crouched, hoping the bird might settle in an adjoining marsh, but it kept on in the direction of Trannack Hill till it became a mere speck in the leaden sky, and at last was lost to view.
