The Children of the Mobility are distinguished by a remarkable circumstance, at their very birth, from those of the Nobility. The latter are said to enter the world with a certain silver implement in their mouths; at all events, they have one placed there so soon as almost to warrant the idea that it was really bestowed on them by Nature. The former, on the contrary, are endowed with no such thing; and if they were, it would infallibly be transferred, with all possible expedition, to the hands of a particular relative. In short, it would be made a means of procuring the nutriment which a less costly article would serve as effectually to insert. Further, the Children of the Nobility, justly compared in various poetical effusions to delicate plants and tender flowers, are, with great propriety, reared in a nursery. But the Children of the Mobility, who are the subjects of no effusions but those of indignation at their appetite or their cries, vegetate, many of them, like kitchen stuff, in the open air, and are never grown, if under shelter at all, in any place resembling a _hot_-house. It is, perhaps, to the supply of moisture which, in consequence of their exposure, they receive, that their preservation is owing; for we might otherwise reasonably question how they are induced to live. The Children of the Mobility are not, in early infancy, interesting creatures; they are invested with none of those angelic attributes so peculiar to the aristocratic babe. It will be well, therefore, to pass over this period of their lives, and to consider them as they exhibit themselves, at a somewhat more advanced age, in the streets.