whether you are a Dustman or a Duke? That's the modern way of looking
at it--and I keep up with the modern way. The Ablewhites lived in a fine
house and grounds, a little out of Frizinghall. Very worthy people, and
greatly respected in the neighbourhood. We shall not be much troubled
with them in these pages--excepting Mr. Godfrey, who was Mr. Ablewhite's
second son, and who must take his proper place here, if you please, for
Miss Rachel's sake.

With all his brightness and cleverness and general good qualities, Mr.
Franklin's chance of topping Mr. Godfrey in our young lady's estimation
was, in my opinion, a very poor chance indeed.

In the first place, Mr. Godfrey was, in point of size, the finest man by
far of the two. He stood over six feet high; he had a beautiful red and
white colour; a smooth round face, shaved as bare as your hand; and a
head of lovely long flaxen hair, falling negligently over the poll of
his neck. But why do I try to give you this personal description of
him? If you ever subscribed to a Ladies' Charity in London, you know Mr.
Godfrey Ablewhite as well as I do. He was a barrister by profession;
a ladies' man by temperament; and a good Samaritan by choice. Female
benevolence and female destitution could do nothing without him.
Maternal societies for confining poor women; Magdalen societies for
rescuing poor women; strong-minded societies for putting poor women into
poor men's places, and leaving the men to shift for themselves;--he was
vice-president, manager, referee to them all. Wherever there was a table
with a committee of ladies sitting round it in council there was Mr.
Godfrey at the bottom of the board, keeping the temper of the committee,
and leading the dear creatures along the thorny ways of business, hat in
hand. I do suppose this was the most accomplished philanthropist (on
a small independence) that England ever produced. As a speaker at