Ah! I see - ruling in the palace one day, head chopped off the next. Are you a philosopher, Sir?'
 
'An observer of human nature, Sir,' said Mr Pickwick.
 
'Ah, so am I. Most people are when they don't have much to do. Are you also a poet, Sir?'
 
'My friend Mr Snodgrass has a liking for poetry,' said Mr Pickwick.

'So have I,' said the stranger. 'I wrote an epic poem- ten thousand lines - about the Revolution of July in France - composed it on the spot - I was a soldier by day, a poet by night - bang the musket, twang the lyre.'
 
'You were present at that glorious affair, Sir?' said Mr Snodgrass.

'Present! I think I was; I fired a musket - then was fired with an idea - I rushed into wine shop - wrote it down - came back again - whiz, bang - had another idea - back to the wine shop again - pen and ink - then fight with a sword - it was a noble time, Sir. Are you a sportsman, Sir?' He suddenly turned and spoke to Mr Winkle.
'A little, Sir,' replied Mr Winkle.
'A fine pursuit, Sir - a fine pursuit. - Do you keep dogs, Sir?'