By this time they had reached the end of St. James's Street; it was therefore proposed by Sparkle that they should separate, particularly as it was growing late, or rather early in the morning; and, as they had been in some degree baffled in their attempt to take a minute survey of the proceedings in Pall Mall, they had no decided object in view. Accordingly they parted, Tom and Bob pursuing their way along Piccadilly, while Sparkle, Merrywell, and Mortimer, proceeded down Bond Street. “I am by no means satisfied,” said Tom, “with this evening's ramble, nor exactly pleased to find our friend Sparkle is getting so sentimental.” “He is, at least,” said Tallyho, “very communicative and instructive--I should feel less embarrassment at a future visit to one of those places, though, I can assure you, I should carefully avoid the chance of becoming a pigeon; but to know these things is certainly useful.” “We must lay our plans better for the future,” said Tom--“example is better than precept; and, as for Sparkle, I strongly suspect he is studying a part in All for Love, or the World well lost. That kind of study is too laborious for me, I can't bear to be fettered; or if it be true that it is what we must all come to, my time is not yet arrived. Though I confess Miss Mortimer has many attractions not to be overlooked by an attentive observer; at the same time I perceive this Mr. Merrywell is equally assiduous to obtain the young lady's favours.” By this time they had arrived at home, where, after partaking of refreshment, they retired to rest.~210~~ CHAPTER XV “Cataracts of declamation thunder here, There, forests of no meaning spread the page, In which all comprehension wanders, lost, While fields of pleasantry amuse us there With many descants on a nation's woes. The rest appears a wilderness of strange, But gay confusion--roses for the cheeks, And lilies for the brows of faded age; Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald, Heav'n, earth, and ocean, plunder'd of their sweets; Nectareous essences, Olympian dews, Sermons and City feasts, and fav'rite airs, Ethereal journeys, submarine exploits, And Katerfelto with his hair on end, At his own wonders wond'ring for his bread.” “WELL,” said Tom, “it must be confessed that a Newspaper is a most convenient and agreeable companion to the breakfast-table,” laying down the _Times_ as he spoke: “it is a sort of literary hotch-potch, calculated to afford amusement suited to all tastes, rank-, and degrees; it contains “Tales of love and maids mistaken, Of battles fought, and captives taken.” “Then, I presume,” said Bob, “you have been gratified and interested in the perusal?”