“Ah, so am I. Most people are when they’ve little to do and less to get. Poet, Sir?”

“My friend Mr. Snodgrass has a strong poetic turn,” said Mr. Pickwick.

“So have I,” said the stranger. “Epic poem⁠—ten thousand lines⁠—revolution of July⁠—composed it on the spot⁠—Mars by day, Apollo by night⁠—bang the field-piece, twang the lyre.”

“You were present at that glorious scene, sir?” said Mr. Snodgrass.