Just like a hedger cutting furze;
’Twas a vile razor! Then the rest he tried—
All were imposters! “Ah!” Hodge sighed,
“I wish my eighteen-pence within my purse!”
Yes! our market-woman was triumphant! and for many years she retained her situation, exhibiting the same strength of memory, fidelity, and honesty, to the last. But I must mention how nicely we nicked our grandpapa for his indiscreet attempt to puzzle our purveyor on her first essay. Ever after, we regularly called upon him for “means to test the market-woman’s memory,” and he good-humouredly always complied with the demand. Then, oh! what an interesting object Moll became to us! How we used to watch for the first glimpse of the huge white load resting on her back, and rising considerably above her head! And how often in our eagerness we mistook white cows, ladies dressed in white, and white horses, for our dearly beloved Moll Miskellagh!
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.