less ease and freedom,
display, in the different quality of their fruit-stains, a pleasing
indication of the progress of the seasons. The nose of this vulgar
little boy turns up at the end. I have noticed this in several other
vulgar little boys, although it is by no means improbable that youthful
vulgarity may be present without this facial peculiarity. Indeed, I
am inclined to the belief that it is rather the result of early
inquisitiveness--of furtive pressures against window-panes, and
of looking over fences, or of the habit of biting large apples
hastily--than an indication of scorn or juvenile superciliousness. The
vulgar little boy is more remarkable for his obtrusive familiarity. It
is my experience of his predisposition to this quality which has induced
me to write this article.

My acquaintance with him began in a moment of weakness. I have an
unfortunate predilection to cultivate originality in people, even when
accompanied by objectionable character. But, as I lack the firmness and
skilfulness which usually accompany this taste in others, and enable
them to drop acquaintances when troublesome, I have surrounded myself
with divers unprofitable friends, among whom I count the vulgar little
boy. The manner in which he first attracted my attention was purely
accidental. He was playing in the street, and the driver of a passing
vehicle cut at him, sportively, with his whip. The vulgar little boy
rose to his feet and hurled after his tormentor a single sentence of
invective. I refrain from repeating it, for I feel that I could not do
justice to it here. If I remember rightly, it conveyed, in a very few
words, a reflection on the legitimacy of the driver's birth; it hinted
a suspicion of his father's integrity, and impugned the fair fame of
his mother; it suggested incompetency in his present position, personal
uncleanliness, and evinced a sceptical doubt of his future salvation. As
his youthful lips closed over the last syllable, the eyes of the vulgar
little boy met mine. Something in my look emboldened him to wink. I did
not repel the action nor the complicity it implied. From that moment I
fell into the power of the vulgar little boy, and he has never left me
since.

He haunts me in the streets and by-ways. He accosts me, when in the
company of friends, with repulsive freedom. He lingers about the gate
of my dwelling to waylay me as I issue forth to business. Distance
he overcomes by main strength of lungs, a