'Ah! I see - King in the palace one day, head chopped off the next. Are you a philosopher, Sir?'

'I like to study how people behave, Sir,' said Mr Pickwick.

'Ah, so do I. Most people do when they don't have much else to do. Are you also a poet, Sir?'

'My friend Mr Snodgrass likes poetry,' said Mr Pickwick.

'So do I,' said the stranger. 'I wrote a heroic poem once - it was ten thousand lines - about the revolution of July in France - I wrote it at the time - I was a soldier by day, a poet by night - fire the gun, then make gentle music.'

'You were present at that revolution, Sir?' said Mr Snodgrass.

'Present! I think I was; I fired a gun - then had an idea for a poem - I rushed into wine shop - wrote it down - came back again - fired my gun - had another idea - went back to the wine shop again - pen and ink - then a fight with a sword - it was a great time, Sir. Are you a hunter, Sir?' He suddenly turned and spoke to Mr Winkle.

'I do it a bit, Sir,' replied Mr Winkle.

'A fine hobby, sir - a fine hobby. - Do you keep dogs, Sir?'