“‘Eh! blessed, dear creetur!’ said Ayre, the tears streaming down his cheeks—‘poor, dear creetur! Sensible to th’ last minute!—sensible to th’ last minute!’” “Oh, get out with thy profanities!” said Betty, going out, and pulling the door after her smartly; not even staying to hear how Molly Ayre went at last. The whole Woodburn family could not help laughing heartily at this picture of human nature, though they were afraid it might reach Betty’s indignant ears. “As to the Quakers, however,” continued Mr. Woodburn, “I must assert that though they are devoted to getting money, some of them make a very good use of it. The Heritages are extremely benevolent, and expend large sums every year in adding to the comforts and in promoting education amongst the poor, both in Woodburn and in the far greater field of Castleborough.” “Ay, and they gather in plenty to do it with,” said Thorsby. “Why, Mr. Heritage’s gold may go out by pecksfull, but it flows in by bushelsfull.” “That may be,” said Mr. Woodburn, “but it does not alter my position. Look, then, at Mr. Dell. Now, he is a man who is not in their Society, but he goes to their meeting, and associates with them, from his sense of their more thoroughly moral character than that of most other people. There is a man who is always planning some good for the people. He has himself built and endowed a free school for the poor; and has worked actively in creating public gardens and public walks in all directions.” “And that intelligent and liberal man,” said Thorsby, “can go and sit two mortal hours, on a Sunday morning, in their meetings, where not a word is uttered! Wonderful!” “Well,” said Mr. Woodburn, “that is rather wonderful; but then he tells me that he takes the Bible in his pocket, and reads a chapter or two, and meditates on it.” “He might do that at home,” said Thorsby. “He might,” said Mr. Woodburn, “and we might and may leave people to their peculiar notions of what suits them best,” quietly proceeding with his pea-shelling. “And look, again, at that brave old man, William Fairfax, the eminent grocer and hop-dealer. Did you ever see a picture of the great law reformer, Jeremy Bentham? or of Benjamin Franklin?” “Of Franklin, of course,” said Thorsby. “Well,” continued Mr. Woodburn, “there is a great general resemblance in the persons of these three great men, for I place Mr. Fairfax in the scale of great men. They were, and he is, of middle height and strong build. They had, and Mr. Fairfax has, a style of countenance with strong features, somewhat prominent nose, and their hair hanging in abundance on their shoulders. Mr. Fairfax dresses, as you know, in plain drab, with waistcoat long and with flaps; and he may often be seen going about the town without his hat, and looking very abstracted, and with one hand thrust into his waistcoat about half-way down.