eposited the equally strange rent
of Tollishill. Verily, common as ice-houses are in our day, let not
Midside Maggy be deprived of the merit of their invention.

I have said that it was her maxim to keep no secret from her husband;
but, as it is said there is no rule without an exception, even so it was
in the case of Margaret, and there was one secret which she communicated
not to Thomas, and that was--the secret of the hidden snowball.

But June came, and Thomas Hardie was a sorrowful man. He had in no
measure overcome the calamities of former seasons, and he was still
unprepared with his rent. Margaret shared not his sorrow, but strove to
cheer him, and said--

"We shall hae a snawba' in June, though I climb to the top o' Cheviot
for it."

"O my bonny lassie," replied he--and he could see the summit of Cheviot
from his farm--"dinna deceive yersel' wi' what could only be words
spoken in jest; but, at ony rate, I perceive there has been nae snaw on
Cheviot for a month past."

Now, not a week had passed, but Margaret had visited the aperture in the
ravine, where the snowball was concealed, not through idle curiosity, to
perceive whether it had melted away, but more effectually to stop up
every crevice that might have been made in the materials with which she
had blocked up the mouth of the cavity.

But the third day of the dreadful month had not passed, when a messenger
arrived at Tollishill from Thirlestane with the abrupt mandate--"_June
has come!_"

"And we shall be at Thirlestane the morn," answered Margaret.

"O my doo," said Thomas, "what nonsense are ye talking!--that isna like
ye, Margaret; I'll be in Greenlaw Jail the morn; and oor bits o' things
in the hoose, and oor flocks, will be seized by the harpies o' the
law--and the only thing that distresses me is, what is to come o' you
hinny."

"Dinna dree the death ye'll never dee," said Margaret affectionately;
"we shall see, if we be spared, what the morn will bring."

"The fortitude o' yer mind, Margaret," said Thomas, taking her hand; and
he intended to have said more, to have finished a sentence in admiration
of her worth, but his heart filled, and he was silent.

On the following morning, Margaret said unto him--

"Now, Thomas, if ye are ready, we'll gang to Thirlestane. It is aye waur
to expect or think o' an evil than to face it."

"Margaret, dear," said he, "I canna comprehend ye--wherefore should I
thrust my head into the lion's den? It wi