On Thursday morning, at daybreak, much surprise was experiences from the unexpected disappearance of the ground beneath a deep covering of snow, which was then falling, driven by a stiff wind from the north-east—the rain having literally poured down, with the wind south-west, from 10 p.m. up to one o’clock. The small cart did not arrive till 9 a.m. (the usual time being 4 a.m.), when ‟our old and well-seasoned mailman,” John Nash, drove in with a leader a-head with the up mail from Horndean, the wheels of the cart bearing ample testimony to the deep cutting work they had to contend with in their progress over the downs, &c., being in some parts up to the stocks of the same. While waiting for a leader from the Lion on to Liphook, in reply to a question, Nash exclaimed, ‟This is one of the worst journeys I have ever had in my travels. From the time of starting from Liphook down to Cosham (22 miles), I had heavy rain and driving wind in my face; during my stay at Cosham for the up mails the wind veered round to the north-east, heavy snow came on, and I had the same with the high wind in my face all the way back.” It further transpired that upon reaching Horndean a man and horse was engaged as leader, and that both men in their way here were compelled to walk the greater part of the distance, till they reached the railway bridge at Mapledurham, a mile and a-half from the town. We may add that this is but one instance of the many that experienced the miseries of that dreadfully rough night—Sufficient to put us in mind of the old song, and make our ‟blue jackets on the wide unbounded sea” sing—
‟You see what risks all landsmen run,
From noblemen to Taylors;
Then, Bill, let us thank Providence,
That you and I are sailors.”