The juvenile personages above enumerated are represented as they appeared in the Hampstead Road, when, on a late occasion, they honoured the performance of the young Italian instrumentalist, Carlo Denticci, with their presence. So deeply were their infant minds absorbed in the harmonious entertainment, that mute attention, during its continuance, rested, almost without interruption, on their lips; a situation where it does not usually love to dwell. Miss Moody was occasionally heard to address a few words, or rather syllables, but only a few, to her infant sister; and even Master Dummer, to whom the attire and personal appearance of the tuneful stranger seemed almost as interesting as his art, once only murmured, in an under tone, as he contemplated his hat, "My eye, what a rummy tile!" The performance, which occupied upwards of half an hour, included several of the airs most fashionable at the Mobility's concerts. The well-known gem from "Jack Sheppard" was productive of its customary effect; even the younger of the Misses Moody was seen to beat time, unequivocally, to the air. The ever new American melodies elicited smiles of universal approbation; and the little party appeared to be much delighted with the Caledonian March, "The Campbells are coming," although they had previously had the advantage of hearing this piece performed on a somewhat perhaps more appropriate instrument. But what made amusement bliss and converted interest into ecstacy,--what opened not the ears only, but also the mouth of Master George Dummer, and lighted the glow-worm fire of enthusiasm in the eyes of Miss Ann Grigg, was the beautiful, the mellifluous, the voluptuous "Cachucha." Oh! had they heard it in a brighter scene, where Rank and Fashion melt at Music's breath, where mingled sighs and perfumes load the air;--that atmosphere of Love and rose-water;--in short, at Her Majesty's Theatre; and had they there seen the graceful Fanny! But whither are we borne away? No! Such rapture--almost too intense for the ethereal spirits of the Children of the Nobility,--could not have been felt by them. During the piece of music last-mentioned, a Terpsichorean impulse seized on a small boy, who was standing at some little distance from our group. Cracking a couple of bits of slate together in imitation of castanets, he went through a succession of eccentric movements which we should imagine must have really been what is termed the Sailor's Hornpipe. This exhibition appeared greatly to divert the surrounding Mobility, who are much better judges, it would seem, of the humour, than they are of the poetry, of motion; and whose bosoms would not be very likely to heave the sigh, even at the pathos of Taglioni.