birds, are not very active in feeding their young. Their building propensities, however, are just as remarkable. Humble as they are, it cannot be denied that they have much to do in the raising of the noblest houses; and if any part of the Mobility may lay claim to heraldic honours, these, as well as the proudest landlords, are entitled to bear the "Bricklayers' Arms." Their children display a peculiarly imperfect state of costume, owing to a practice, too common among their parents, of devoting the family revenues to the purchase of a certain spirituous liquor, and of converting, for this purpose, their wardrobes into ready money; conduct highly reprehensible, since, if oppressed by ennui, or incommoded by the calls of appetite, they ought to have recourse to the consolations of philosophy.

The Flinns, the O'Shaughnessys, and the Donovans are, as we have hinted, of Hibernian extraction. Miss Margaret Flinn was born January 10, 1824, and is now consequently in her eighteenth year. Her brother, Master Gregory Flinn, is in his ninth; his birth took place on December 28, 1832. They are the sole remaining issue of Cornelius and Mary Flinn, the remainder of whose family, amounting to ten, all died in their infancy, with the exception of their sixth son, Michael Flinn, whose afflicting death at the age of five, in St. Bartholomew's Hospital, in consequence of his clothes catching fire, was lately recorded in the journals. Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy (born June 10, 1834) is the eldest of the seven children, the remainder of whom are males, of Judith and Terence O'Shaughnessy. It will be recollected that the late Mr. O'Shaughnessy was killed in scaling a chimney. Master Patrick Donovan is virtually an orphan, his parents, Jane and Peter Donovan, being necessitated, from some mistake with respect to property, to pass their existence in exile. He was born March 18, 1830.

The sensitive mind is condemned to meet with some things in this sublunary scene which are cruelly harrowing to its delicate susceptibilities. We intimated, a little above, that the Children of the Mobility, generally, have no pretensions to beauty; there is no rule, however, without an exception, and Miss Margaret Flinn is an exception here. Her mild dewy eyes, of a bright lustrous grey, softly shaded by her dark and pencilled brows; her small and exquisitely-formed nose; her sweet lips, well-turned chin, graceful neck, lovely complexion, and almost perfect figure, form a tout ensemble decidedly prepossessing. Now is it not distressing to see such charms in so uncultivated a state? Who does not breathe an anxious wish that a wreath of roses should encircle that brow,—that gems should deck those petites oreilles,—that the gentle coercion of the corset should add the one thing wanting to that admirable but untutored waist? And then those feet—now so disgraced!—Would we could see thee, fair Child of the Mobility, arrayed in hues of beauty by the hand of Fashion, and irradiating with the beams of thy loveliness the circles of Ton! But it may not be! the decrees of Destiny are inscrutable, and we weep in

There are few, we apprehend, to whom the following beautiful lines are not familiar:—

Now, girding on, or putting on their fathers' things, appears to be a national peculiarity of the Minstrel boy's young countrymen. So, at least, it would seem from the coat of Master Gregory Flinn; though it is very possible that the said vestment may properly belong to some other young gentleman's papa. Our readers may, perhaps, have read of a set of people called Socialists, whose chief characteristic is a community of property, and of almost everything else; and who, besides, live huddled together in colonies, and are not very scrupulous in their behaviour. This description applies so closely to the Rookery, that we cannot but think that it is actually one of these people's establishments. Its inhabitants evidently possess their clothes in common; no private individual having any of his own, but putting on, as occasion may require, the first thing that he finds lying about. Hence it happens that, as the pairs of shoes, for instance, in the settlement, do not nearly equal the number of wearers, some are obliged to go without any shoes at all, and others, as in the case of Master Gregory Flinn, to be content with one. In this latter predicament, also, is Master Patrick Donovan; while in the former is Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy. The excellence of the Social system is further exemplified by this interesting group, not only in respect of their apparel, but also in what they exhibit of the domestic economy of their connexions. The loaf which Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy is carrying is the family loaf, and the tankard at her lips contains the family beverage, of which, in the simvainplicity of innocence, she is taking her little share. Master Patrick Donovan has just obtained possession of a herring—probably on Social principles, and is conveying it, with the kettle, which the fire of some neighbouring Socialist has warmed, homewards for breakfast. He is a youth of a lively turn, and the jest that hangs on his lip is called forth by the contemplative look,—(oh that such eyes should rest on such an object!) with which Miss Margaret Flinn is regarding his finny prize. He is facetiously inquiring whether she would like a soldier; that term being, in the language of the Mobility, applied to the delicacy in question.

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Master Gregory Flinn, to whom Master Patrick Donovan's sally seems to have given great amusement, is provided, it will be observed, with a hoop. It is fit that the superior classes, who are so apt to be guilty of misplaced charity, an amiable but fatal weakness, should know, that the Children of the Mobility are in many instances possessed of the superfluity of toys; which, of course, if they were really hungry, they would dispose of, and get something to eat. We certainly think that the country should not be saddled with the expense of maintaining those Children of the Mobility who can afford to keep hoops.

There is one circumstance which, in considering the Children of the Mobility in general, and particularly this part of them, strikes us very forcibly indeed. We mean, the style of their chevelure. How easy it would be to part Master Gregory Flinn's hair in the middle, or to bid waving ringlets to stray down the shoulders of Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy, instead of allowing elf-locks to dangle about her ears! and what an improvement would thereby be effected in the personal appearance of both! To require farther attentions to this department of the toilet on the part of such persons as the Mobility, may perhaps appear a little unreasonable; but we must say, that did we belong to that description of persons, we would decidedly debar ourselves of the common necessaries of life, as long as Nature would permit us so to do, in order to procure those (to us) indispensable articles on which the gloss and brilliancy of the hair depend.

Another little improvement, and one unattended by the slightest expense, might so easily be made in the condition of the Children of the Mobility, that we wonder that no benevolent individual has hitherto endeavoured to effect it. A glance at the group now under consideration must convince the most tasteless observer that the youthful personages therein depicted are supporting themselves on their feet in the most ungraceful posture imaginable. Whoever looks at the portraits of the Children of the Nobility, will see that some are represented as standing in the first; others in the second position;