The minister of the parish was amongst the unhappy number; the craving was so intense that study was out of the question, and he became quite restless.

As a last resort the beadle was despatched, through the snow, to a neighbouring glen, in the hope of getting a supply; but he came back as unsuccessful as he went.

"What's to be dune, John ?" was the minister's pathetic inquiry.

John shook his head, as much as to say that he could not tell; but immediately thereafter started up, as if a new idea had occurred to him.

He came back in a few minutes, crying, "Hae!" The minister, too eager to be scrutinising, took a long, deep pinch, and then said, "Whaur did you get it ?" "I soupit[41] the poupit," was John's expressive reply.