At home he would run through the countries of Europe, the States of the Union, the chief cities of our Indian Empire, the provinces of France, the Prime Ministers of England, or the chief writers and artists of any given century; striking off puns, admirable, endurable, and execrable, but all irresistibly laughable, which followed each other in showers like sparks from flint.

Capping verses was a game of which he never tired.

"In the spring of 1829," says his cousin Mrs.
Conybeare, "we were staying in Ormond Street.

My chief recollection of your uncle during that visit is on the evenings when we capped verses.
All the family were quick at it, but his astounding memory made him supereminent.

When the time came for him to be off to bed at his chambers, he would rush out of the room after uttering some long-sought line, and would be pursued to the top of the stairs by one of the others who had contrived to recall a verse which served the purpose, in order that he might not leave the house victorious; but he, with the hall-door open in his hand, would shriek back a crowning effort, and go off triumphant." Nothing of all this can be traced in his letters before the year 1830.
Up to that period he corresponded regularly with no one but his father, between whom and himself there existed a strong regard, but scanty sympathy or similarity of pursuits.