The plinth 11 feet 2¼ inches by 5 feet 6½ inches. The dado 8 feet 11 inches by 3 feet 8½ inches. Height 8 feet 2 inches. The blocks of granite of which the tomb has been formed are perhaps the largest made use of in Ireland, each weighing from 4 to 5 tons. The joints between the blocks have been so managed as to be imperceptible, and the tomb thus appears to be one entire mass of granite. F. [1] This monument, if not influencing, has certainly been followed by monuments now in progress of erection to the late Chief Baron Joy, Mr Drummond, the Dean of St Patrick’s, Lord Clements, and others. [2] The contract has been made with Mr Christopher Moore, an Irish sculptor of much celebrity. The foundation is laid to granite, the structure will be marble, and the situation fronts the monument of the late Serjeant Ball. THE MARKET-WOMAN. BY M. C. R. Some of the pleasantest of the many pleasant reminiscences of my childhood are associated with the recollection of a very ugly uncouth woman, with a very ugly uncouth name, “Moll Miskellagh,” our market-woman. If the cognomen “Moll” was intolerable to “ears polite,” what was it to the euphonious appellation of her better half, “Mogue Miskellagh?” The English groom of an Irish gentleman once overheard some person calling “Mogue Miskellagh!” “Mogue Miskellagh!” “Mogue Miskellagh!” he thrice exclaimed, voice, eyes, and hands in their various ways expressing astonishment, “does that ’ere name belong to a Christian?” The home of my early days was situated five miles from the nearest market-town; and as it was not always convenient to send a servant and horse for the various commodities necessary for a tolerably large family, a regular drudging market man or woman was deemed indispensable. Moll Miskellagh heard of “the lady’s” wants and wishes, and believing her own limbs to be stout, and her memory retentive, offered herself as the “beast of burden.” “Mistress, jew’l,” pleaded Moll, with the most persuasive brogue imaginable, “sorra sitch a pair ov legs in the whole counthry; an’ for my back, it bangs Banagher for the strinth! As to my karracther, thank God I need say nothin’ about it, as I may safely lave it to my naiburs for its honesty.” “And honesty must have its reward,” returned the amiable and well-beloved “Misthress,” whose business it was to engage the market-woman. “But do you read?” “Augh! sorra bit ov me, yer honour,” quoth Mrs Miskellagh, with a groan; “larnin’ wasn’t the fashin in my young days, or I ’spose I’d have got a lick ov it like the rest. But what ov that, misthress?” “Why, it would be better for all parties that you did read, as you will have so many notes to carry to different shops, and you cannot fail to be sadly puzzled.”