On Mr Pickwick's right sat Mr Tracy Tupman. This Mr Tupman had the wisdom and experience of mature years but added to this was the enthusiasm and strong emotions of a boy, because Mr Tupman suffered from the most interesting and pardonable of human weaknesses - love.

Time and feeding had expanded his once romantic body; the black silk waistcoat had become larger and larger; inch by inch the gold watch-chain beneath that waistcoat had disappeared from Mr Tupman's sight; and gradually his chin had grown until it hid the white tie around his neck. But the soul of Tupman was completely unchanged - admiration of the fair sex was still the most important thing for him.

On the left of his great leader sat Mr Snodgrass the poet, and next to Snodgrass was Mr Winkle; the sportsman. The former was poetically wrapped in a mysterious blue cloak with a dogskin collar, and the latter was making his a new green shooting-coat look even more splendid. He also wore a plaid neckerchief.