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There appeared to be no line of demarcation between the young perso 's excess ive innocence and another person's guiltiest knowledge. Take Mr. Podsnap's word for it, and the soberest tints of drab, white, lilac, and gray, were all flam. ing red to this troublesome bull of a young person. Miss Podsnap's life had been, from her first appearance on this planet, altogether of a shady order; for Mr. Podsnap's young person was likely to get little good out of association with other young persons, and had therefore been restricted to companionship with not very congenial older persons, and with massive furniture. Miss Podsuap's early views of life being principally derived from the reflections of it in her father's boots and in the walnut and rosewood tables of the dim drawing. rooms, and in their swarthy giants of looking-glasses, were of a sombre cast; and it was not wonderful, that now, when she was on most days solemnly tooled through the park by the side of her mother in a great tall custard-colored phaeton, she showed above the apron of that vehicle like a dejected young per son sitting up in bed to take a startled look at things in general, and very strongly desiring to get her head under the counterpane again.

Podsnap, Mr. John. Her father; a member of "society," and a pompous, self-satisfied man, swelling with patronage of his friends and acquaintances. (Bk. I, ch. ii, x, xi, xvii; Bk. II, ch. iii-v, xvi; Bk. III, ch. i, xvii; Bk. IV, ch. xvii.)

Mr. Podsnap was well to do, and stood very high in Mr. Podsnap's opinion. Beginning with a good inheritance, he had married a good inheritance, and had thriven exceedingly in the marine insurance way, and was quite satisfied. He never could make out why everybody was not quite satisfied, and he felt conscious that he set a brilliant social example in being particularly well satisfied with most things, and, above all other things, with himself.

Thus happily acquainted with his own merit and importance, Mr. Podsnap settled, that, whatever he put behind him, he put out of existence. There was a dignified conclusiveness, not to add a grand convenience, in this way of getting rid of disagreeables, which had done much towards establishing Mr. Podsnap in his lofty place in Mr. Podsnap's satisfaction. "I don't want to know about it; I don't choose to discuss it; I don't admit it!" Mr. Podsnap had even acquired a peculiar flourish of his right arm in often clearing the world of its most difficult problems by sweeping them behind him (and consequently sheer away) with those words and a flushed face; for they affronted him.

Mr. Podsnap's world was not a very large world morally, no, nor even geographically; seeing, that, although his business was sustained upon commerce with other countries, he considered other countries, with that important reservation, a mistake: and of their manners and customs would conclusively observe, "Not English!" when PRESTO! with a flourish of the arm and a flush of the face, they were swept away. Elsewise, the world got up at eight, shaved close at a quarter-past, breakfasted at nine, went to the city at ten, came home at half-past five, and dined at seven. Mr. Podsnap's notions of the arts in their integrity might have been stated thus. Literature: large print, respectfully descriptive of getting up at eight. shaving close at a quarter-past, reakfasting at nine, going to the city at ten, coming home at half-past five, and dining at seven. Painting and sculpture: models and portraits, represent ing professors of getting up at eight, shaving close at a quarter-past, breakfasting at nine, going to the city at ten, coming home at half-past five, and dining at seven. Music: a respectable performance (without vacations) on

stringed and wind instruments, sedately expressive of getting up at eight shaving close at a quarter-past, breakfasting at nine, going to the city at ten coming home at half-past five, and dining at seven. Nothing else to be per mitted to those same vagrants the arts, on pain of excommunication. Noth ing else to be- anywhere!

As a so eminently respectable man, Mr. Podsnap was sensible of its being required of him to take Providence under his protection: consequently he always knew exactly what Providence meant. Inferior and less respectable men might fall short of that mark; but Mr. Podsnap was always up to it. And it was very remarkable (and must have been very comfortable) that what Providence meant was invariably what Mr. Podsnap meant.

These may be said to have been the articles of faith of a school which the present chapter takes the liberty of calling, after its representative man, Podsnappery. They were confined within close bounds, as Mr. Podsnap's own head was confined by his shirt-collar; and they were enunciated with a sounding pomp that smacked of the creaking of Mr. Podsnap's own boots.

Podsnap, Mrs. His wife; a "fine woman for Professor Owen, quantity of bone, neck and nostrils like a rocking-horse, hard features," and a majestic presence. (Bk. I, ch. ii, x, xi, xvii ; Bk. II, ch. iii, iv; Bk. III, ch. i, xvii; Bk. IV, ch. xvii.)

Poddles. The pet name of a little girl in Mrs. Betty Higden's "minding-school." (Bk. I, ch. xvi.)

Potterson, Miss Abbey. Sole proprietor and manager of a well-kept tavern called the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters; a woman of great dignity and firmness, tall, upright, and well-favored, though severe of countenance, and having more the air of a schoolmistress than mistress of a public-house. (Bk. I, ch. vi, xiii; Bk. III, ch. ii, iii; Bk. IV, ch. xii.)

The Six Jolly Fellowship Porters, . . . as a tavern of a dropsical ap pearance, had long settled down into a state of hale infirmity. In its whole constitution it had not a straight floor, and hardly a straight line; but it had outlasted, and clearly would yet outlast, many a better-trimmed building, many a sprucer public-house. Externally, it was a narrow, lopsided, wooden Jumble of corpulent windows heaped one upon another, as you might heap as many toppling oranges, with a crazy wooden veranda impending over the water: indeed, the whole house, inclusive of the complaining flagstaff on the roof, impended over the water, but seemed to have got into the ccndition of a faint-hearted diver, who has paused so long on the brink, that he will never go in it at all.

This description applies to the river-frontage of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters. The back of the establishment, though the chief entrance was there, so contracted that it merely represented, in its connection with the front, the handle of a flat-iron set upright on its broadest end. This handle stood at the Sottom of a wilderness of court and alley, which wilderness pressed so hard and close upon the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters as to leave the hostlery not an inch of ground beyond its door. ...

The bar of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters was a bar to soften the humar breast. The available space in it was not much larger than a hackney-coach

but no one could have wished the bar bigger, that space was so girt in by cor. pulent little casks, and by cordial-bottles radiant with fictitious grapes in bunches, and by lemons in nets, and by biscuits in baskets, and by the polite beer-pulls that made low bows when customers were served with beer, and by the cheese in a snug corner, and by the landlady's own small table in a snugger Corner near the fire, with the cloth everlastingly laid. This haven was divided from the rough world by a glass partition and a half-door with a leaden sill upon it for the convenience of resting your liquor; but over this half-door the bar's snugness so gushed forth, that, albeit customers drank there, standing in a dark and draughty passage, where they were shouldered by other customers passing in and out, they always appeared to drink under an enchanting delu. sion that they were in the bar itself.

For the rest, both the tap and parlor of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters gave upon the river, and had red curtains, matching the noses of the regular customers.

Potterson, Job. Her brother; steward of the ship in which John Harmon is a passenger. (Bk. I. ch. iii; Bk. II, ch. xiii; Bk. IV, ch. xii.) Pubsey and Co. The name of a fictitious firm of money-brokers in Saint Mary-Axe, used by "Fascination" Fledgeby to conceal his sharp practice in "shaving" notes.

Riah, Mr. An aged Jew. of venerable aspect and a generous and noble nature, who befriends Lizzie Hexam, and obtains employment for her. He is the agent of "Fascination " Fledgeby, who directs all his proceedings, while keeping himself in the background. (Bk. II, ch. v, xv; Bk. III, ch. i, ii, x, xii, xiii; Bk. IV, ch. viii, ix, xvi.)

Fascination Fledgeby took another scratch at his intellectual head with his hat [and said], " Who but you and I ever heard of a poor Jew?"

"The Jews," said the old man, raising his eyes from the ground with his former smile. "They hear of poor Jews often, and are very good to them." "Bother that!" returned Fledgeby. "You know what I mean. You'd persuade me, if you could, that you are a poor Jew. I wish you'd confess how much you really did make out of my late governor. I should have a better opirion of you."

The old man only bent his head, and stretched out his hands as before. "Don't go on posturing like a deaf-and-dumb school," said the ingenious Fledgeby," but express yourself like a Christian,— -or as nearly as you can." "I had had sickness and misfortunes, and was so poor," said the old man, "as hopelessly to owe the father principal and interest. The son inheriting was so merciful as to forgive me both, and place me here."

He made a little gesture as though he kissed the hem of an imaginary garment worn by the noble youth before him. It was humbly done, but picturesquely, and was not abasing to the doer.

"You won't say more, I see," said Fledgeby, looking at him as if he would like to try the effect of extricating a double-tooth or two, "and so it's of no

use my putting it to you. But confess this, Riah: who believes you to be poor now?"