Miss Philly Firkin, The China-Woman | Page 2

taller than a china mandarin, remarkable for the height of her comb,
and the length of her earrings, whom she addressed sometimes as Miss
Wolfe, sometimes as Marianne, and sometimes as Polly, thus
multiplying the young lady's individuality by three; and a little
shopman in apron and sleeves, whom, with equal ingenuity, she called
by the several appellations of Jack, Jonathan, and Mr.
Lamb--mister!--but who was really such a cock-o'-my-thumb as might
have been served up in a tureen, or baked in a pie-dish, without in the
slightest degree abridging his personal dimensions. I have known him
quite hidden behind a china jar, and as completely buried, whilst

standing on tip-toe, in a crate, as the dessert-service which he was
engaged in unpacking. Whether this pair of originals was transferred
from a show at a fair to Miss Philips warehouse, or whether she had
picked them up accidentally, first one and then the other, guided by a
fine sense of congruity, as she might match a wineglass or a tea-cup,
must be left to conjecture. Certain they answered her purpose, as well
as if they had been the size of Gog and Magog; were attentive to the
customers, faithful to their employer, and crept about amongst the
china as softly as two mice.
The world went well with Miss Philly Firkin in the shop and out She
won favour in the sight of her betters by a certain prim, demure,
simpering civility, and a power of multiplying herself as well as her
little officials, like Yates or Matthews in a monopolologue, and
attending to half-a-dozen persons at once; whilst she was no less
popular amongst her equals in virtue of her excellent gift in gossiping.
Nobody better loved a gentle tale of scandal, to sweeten a quiet cup of
tea. Nobody evinced a finer talent for picking up whatever news
happened to be stirring, or greater liberality in its diffusion. She was the
intelligencer of the place--a walking chronicle.
In a word, Miss Philly Firkin was certainly a prosperous, and, as times
go, a tolerably happy woman. To be sure, her closest intimates, those
very dear friends, who as our confidence gives them the opportunity,
are so obliging as to watch our weaknesses and report our
foibles,--certain of these bosom companions had been heard to hint,
that Miss Philly, who had refused two or three good matches in her
bloom, repented her of this cruelty, and would probably be found less
obdurate now that suitors had ceased to offer. This, if true, was one
hidden grievance, a flitting shadow upon a sunny destiny; whilst
another might be found in a circumstance of which she was so far from
making a secret, that it was one of her most frequent topics of
discourse.
The calamity in question took the not un-frequent form of a next-door
neighbour. On her right dwelt an eminent tinman with his pretty
daughter, two of the most respectable, kindest, and best-conducted

persons in the town; but on her left was an open bricked archway, just
wide enough to admit a cart, surmounted by a dim and dingy
representation of some horned animal, with "The Old Red Cow"
written in white capitals above, and "James Tyler, licensed to sell beer,
ale, wine, and all sorts of spirituous liquors," below; and down the
aforesaid passage, divided only by a paling from the spacious premises
where her earthenware and coarser kinds ef crockery were deposited,
were the public-house, stables, cowhouses, and pigsties of Mr. James
Tyler, who added to his calling of publican, the several capacities of
milkman, cattle dealer, and pig merchant, so that the place was one
constant scene of dirt and noise and bustle without and within;--this
Old Red Cow, in spite of its unpromising locality, being one of the best
frequented houses in Belford, the constant resort of drovers, drivers,
and cattle dealers, with a market dinner on Wednesdays and Saturdays,
and a club called the Jolly Tailors, every Monday night.
Master James Tyler--popularly called Jem--was the very man to secure
and increase this sort of custom. Of vast stature and extraordinary
physical power, combined with a degree of animal spirits not often
found in combination with such large proportions, he was at once a fit
ruler over his four-footed subjects in the yard, a miscellaneous and
most disorderly collection of cows, horses, pigs, and oxen, to say
nothing of his own five boys, (for Jem was a widower,) each of whom,
in striving to remedy, was apt to enhance the confusion, and an
admirable lord of misrule at the drovers' dinners and tradesmen's
suppers over which he presided. There was a mixture of command and
good-humour, of decision and fun, in the gruff, bluff, weather-beaten
countenance, surmounted with its rough shock of coal-black hair, and
in the