tc. These very words must Forster have used.
It may be thought that Boz would not be so daring as to introduce his
friend into his stories, "under his very nose" as it were, submitting
the proofs, etc., with the certainty that the portrait would be
recognised. But this, as we know, is the last thing that could have
occurred, or the last thing that would have occurred to Forster. It
was like enough someone else, but not he.

"Mr. Podsnap was well to do, and stood very high in Mr. Podsnap's
opinion." "He 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 with himself." "Mr. Podsnap settled that whatever he
put behind him he put out of existence." "I don't want to know about
it. I don't desire to discover it." "He had, however, acquired a
peculiar flourish of his right arm in the clearing the world of its
difficulties." "As so eminently respectable a man, Mr. Podsnap was
sensible of its being required of him to take Providence under his
protection. Consequently he always knew exactly what Providence
intended."

These touches any friend of Forster's would recognise. He could be
very engaging, and was at his best when enjoying what he called a
shoemaker's holiday--that is, when away from town at some
watering-place, with friends. He was then really delightful, because
happy, having left all his solemnities and ways in London.

Forster was a man of many gifts, an admirable hard-working official,
thoroughly business-like and industrious. I recall him through all the
stages of his connection with the Lunacy Department, as Secretary and
Commissioner and Retired Commissioner, when he would arrive on
"melting days" as it were. But it was as a cultured critic that he was
unsurpassed. He was ever "correct," and delivered a judgment that
commended itself on the instant; it was given with such weight and
persuasion. This correctness of judgment extended to most things,
politics, character, literature, and was pleasant to listen to. He was
one of the old well-read school, and was never without his edition of
Shakespeare, the Globe one, which he took with him on his journeys. He
had a way of lightly emphasising the beauty of a special passage of
the Bard's.

Once, travelling round with Boz, on one of his reading tours, we came
to Belfast, where the huge Ulster Hall was filled to the