“Augh, lave out the notes, ma’am,” interrupted Moll, somewhat impatiently, “an’ give me yer commands by word ov mouth, an’ I’ll engage for it. I’ll go to the four quarthers ov the town, an’ do yer errands widout a single mistake: bekase why, if I wud happen to forget one or two, I have a way ov me own to make me remimber agin. So, for God’s an’ me childher’s sakes, yer honour, give me the berth, an’ I’ll sarve ye faithful. Throth I’ll drag as much as an ass!” “Well, I believe I shall try you, Molly,” said the lady, smiling kindly, the appeal of distress never lost upon her. “Thursdays and Saturdays are the days we send to town; be you ready to attend me at ten o’clock next Thursday.” I was present at this engagement, and though I was very young at the time, never shall I forget the frightful grins with which Moll Miskellagh graced her exuberant thanks, nor her extra-extraordinary curtseys! I have seen an elephant attempt such movements since, and I can declare that the quadruped was the more graceful of the two. The “quadruped!” do I say? I would not vow that our market-woman was not akin to a camel: she was as enduring as one, I am sure, and seldom have I seen her without her burthen behind. Well, on Thursday Moll Miskellagh was punctual; she came with eyes, ears, and hands all prepared for “town.” “I am sadly afraid----” began the lady, pausing, and looking doubtfully at her messenger. “Of what, yer honour?” inquired Molly briskly. “That your memory cannot retain all the commissions I must entrust you with, and not only me, but every one in the house.” “Thry me, madam--go on, jew’l! Never fear me! Give me a hundred ov them if you like, for I have a way ov me own to remimber.” “Well, I wish to serve you at all events. Then you must first carry this post-bag to the post-office.” “So I can, madam; an’ I need say nothin’ there, as the bag will tell what it wants ov itself. Go on, darlint!” “Then you are to go to the baker’s in New-street, to the butcher’s in Market-street, to F----’s for groceries, to Mrs R---- of Church-street with this note, and to Mrs L---- of Castle-hill with the other. And here is a list of articles you are to purchase for me at any shop you please. But what operation are you performing on your fingers?” “Augh, there’s my saicret!” quoth the market-woman triumphantly. “Ye see, misthress, I have three sorts ov thread, black, white, an’ grey; an’ when I am not sure that I’ll think ov a thing parfectly, I tie one ov those threads on one ov me fingers; an’ whin I am at a loss, I keep lookin’ at the thread till I remimber what I tied it on for, an’ so at last it comes into my mimory. Go on, misthress, if you plaise; the day is gettin’ late with us.” “I have no more commissions, Molly; but here comes your master with his.” “Well, Mrs Miskellagh, have you got all your _commandments_?” inquired the “ministhur,” smiling. “Augh, be lanient, yer rivirince! the mistress has given me a power to do to-day.”