'It looks like bride-cake,' replied the dwarf, grinning. 'And whose should you say it was?' inquired Mr. Swiveller, rubbing the pastry against his nose with dreadful calmness. 'Whose?' 'Not--' 'Yes,' said Dick, 'the same. You needn't mention her name. There's no such name now. Her name is Cheggs now, Sophy Cheggs. Yet loved I as man never loved that hadn't wooden legs, and my heart, my heart is breaking for the love of Sophy Cheggs.' With this extemporary adaptation of a popular ballad to the distressing circumstances of his own case, Mr. Swiveller folded up the parcel again, beat it very flat upon the palms of his hands, thrust it into his breast, buttoned his coat over it, and folded his arms upon the whole. And then he signifies his grief by pinning a piece of crape on his hat, saying as he did so, 'Twas ever thus: from childhood's hour I've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower But 'twas the first to fade away; I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to marry a market gardener. He is full of song when entertaining the Marchioness. 'Do they often go where glory waits 'em?' he asks, on hearing that Sampson and Sally Brass have gone out for the evening. He accepts the statement that Miss Brass thinks him a 'funny chap' by affirming that 'Old King Cole was a merry old soul'; and on taking his leave of the little slavey he says, 'Good night, Marchioness. Fare thee well, and if for ever then for ever fare thee well--and put up the chain, Marchioness, in case of accidents. Since life like a river is flowing, I care not how fast it rolls on, ma'am, While such purl on the bank still is growing, And such eyes light the waves as they run.' On a later occasion, after enjoying some games of cards he retires to rest in a deeply contemplative mood. 'These rubbers,' said Mr. Swiveller, putting on his nightcap in exactly the same style as he wore his hat, 'remind me of the matrimonial fireside. Cheggs's wife plays cribbage; all-fours likewise. She rings the changes on 'em now. From sport to sport they hurry her, to banish her regrets; and when they win a smile from her they think that she forgets--but she don't.' Many of Mr. Swiveller's quotations are from Moore's _Irish Melodies_, though he has certainly omitted one which, coming from him, would not have been out of place, viz. 'The time I've lost in wooing'! On another occasion Swiveller recalls some well-known lines when talking to Kit. 'An excellent woman, that mother of yours, Christopher,' said Mr. Swiveller; '"Who ran to catch me when I fell, and kissed the place to make it well? My mother."'