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, and he hails me from the next street.  He met me at the theatre the other evening, and demanded my check with the air of a young foot-pad.  I foolishly gave it to him, but re-entering some time after, and comfortably seating myself in the parquet, I was electrified by hearing my name called from the gallery with the addition of a playful adjective.  It was the vulgar little boy.  During the performance he projected spirally-twisted playbills in my direction, and indulged in a running commentary on the supernumeraries as they entered.