8
8 till near 11 o’clock, the onfall ceased in a great measure, but shortly after it became more bitter than ever, and, at a late hour last night, the tops of the houses, even in town, were as white as ever we saw them in March. In the country, matters must have been far worse, and we grieve for the fate of many a lamb whose cradle will be—not the budding heath or gowany sod—but in all probability, a wreath of snow. In the low grounds, where the lambing season is mostly over, many of the ewes have dropped twins, but it is otherwise among the hilly and high districts, where the great bulk of our sheep stock is reared. There, speaking generally, the lambs dropped, are not above a day or two old, and those who happened to he out of doors yesterday will have some idea of their helpless situation. As yet, we have no accounts from the moorland districts, but there is some reason to fear that the 23rd of April will be as memorable in our annals as the 3rd of March.
Twelve o’clock, Monday night,—The onfall has ceased, but it fearful to witness the state of our streets. In the afternoon we went a little way into the country, and while surveying the desolate appearance of nature, our impression certainly was that February and March had returned again. In a number of places the snow was from four to six inches deep, and but for the advanced period of the season the general depth would have been much greater. Around Moffat the greatest fears are entertained for the safety of the lambs; and we know one farmer
