One evening we expected some particularly nice things by our market-woman. It was somewhere about Christmas, when our means swelled considerably by the addition of Christmas gifts. Many times during the evening we had seen things very like Moll in the distance, but which turned out most bitter disappointments. All four were stuck in a window that commanded a full view of the road to E----; and never did the unfortunate lady of Bluebeard put more earnest eager inquiries to her sister Anne, “is there any body coming?” than we did to each other on this momentous occasion. At length, oh, sight of joy! we beheld a white object descending the opposite hill. “She is coming! she is coming!” screamed a quartetto of young voices, and down we flew to the avenue gate. Alas and alack! it was not Moll, but a gentleman on a white horse! We gazed on each other in breathless dismay; but one of the party, though sadly confounded, resolved to hear of our messenger if possible, since he could not see her, and, boldly advancing, demanded of the traveller “if he were coming from E----?” The gentleman, for he was a gentleman, appeared somewhat surprised at this address, but observing a group of rosy, merry-looking children, he reined in his horse, and smiling good-naturedly, replied that “he was then returning from that town.” Emboldened by this condescension, the next query was, “had he seen Moll Miskellagh?” The stranger laughed outright. “Really, my dear,” said he, “I have not the pleasure to know any one of that name. Pray who and what is Moll Miskellagh?’ “Our market-woman, sir,” quoth our spokesman. “Ha! What sort of person is she, pray? Perhaps I did see her.” We looked at one another doubtfully, the look plainly expressing “How shall we describe her?” when at last the first speaker, with the air of an incipient judge of female beauty, took on himself to reply, “that Moll Miskellagh was a very ugly woman indeed, that she had a pale yellow face, and a great wart near her nose; that she wore a dark blue cloak, an old black bonnet, and that she carried a prodigious, oh! a very big load on her back.” “Never was description more graphic!” exclaimed the traveller, still laughing. “I did indeed see your market-woman. I passed her about a quarter of a mile from this; and if you have patience, my dears, you will soon see her. You expect some nice things by her, I am sure--Eh?”