d in tune.

then

When the heart of a man is depressed with fears,
The mist is dispelled when Miss Wackles appears,

which is his own variant of

If the heart of a man is depressed with care,
The mist is dispelled when a woman appears.

But at the party given by the Wackleses Dick finds he is cut
out by Mr. Cheggs, and so makes his escape saying, as he goes--

My boat is on the shore, and my bark is on the sea; but
before I pass this door, I will say farewell to thee,

and he subsequently adds--

Miss Wackles, I believed you true, and I was blessed
in so believing; but now I mourn that e'er I knew a
girl so fair, yet so deceiving.

The _denouement_ occurs some time after, when, in the course
of an interview with Quilp, he takes from his pocket

a small and very greasy parcel, slowly unfolding it,
and displaying a little slab of plum cake, extremely
indigestible in appearance and bordered with a paste
of sugar an inch and a half deep.

'What should you say this was?' demanded Mr. Swiveller.

'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 gon