That most gay, gallant and airy body of horsemen known as the "Brooklyn Dutch Light Cavalry," are much indebted to the projectors of the Knightly meeting which took place recently at Prospect Park, for an opportunity to display those equestrian graces which a few cross-grained critics have been disposed to deny them. The general public never had any doubts upon the subject, but it is well enough to silence those who took much credit to themselves in detecting faults where others could not discover them. The result shows how completely such mendacity can be exposed. Of the numerous prizes awarded, two-thirds fell to the members of Brooklyn's Teutonic Cavalry. They were especially admired for the firmness with which they kept their saddles, under circumstances enough to unhorse a Centaur. We noted, particularly, one cavalier, known in the lists as the Knight of RUDESHEIMER. He keeps a pork store in Fulton Avenue, and turned a Fairbanks Scale, but two days before the tourney, at 275 lbs. This gallant rode a very sprightly steed, which struggled under the double calamity of being slightly spavined and quite blind in the left eye. One of the effects of the latter misfortune was to keep the animal constantly in the belief that somebody meditated foul play upon its unguarded flank, and at the slightest stir in the crowd it would wheel violently around, to the great consternation its rider, and the evident alarm of contiguous Knights. PUNCHINELLO, who was very conspicuous in the throng, and was mounted upon a highly mettled Ukraine steed, observed the cavorting of the Knight of RUDESHEIMER, and cantered gaily towards him. In attempting to pass, his spur touched the side of the blind steed,--which kicked at PUNCHINELLO'S fiery Ukraine in a very ungracious manner. Our animal would take a kick from no other animal calmly, and so, without waiting to weigh consequences, it gave RUDESHEIMER'S Rosinante a severe "chuck" in the ribs with its hind feet. In an instant horse and rider were spinning around like a top. A space was immediately cleared, and the crowd awaited in breathless silence the fate of the Knight. His swayings were fearful, until PUNCHINELLO, anticipating an apoplectic fit from such a terrific revolution, dashed in, and seizing the frightened steed by the bridle, brought him to bay. The Knight's face was livid with rage and, instead of thanking PUNCHINELLO, he roared at the pitch of his voice. "Dunder und blitzen! Du bist ein tam phool. Vat for you not sees I ish tied to mein saddle?" The pride of horsemanship could go no further, and so PUNCHINELLO left. SONG OF THE RED CLOUD. [Supposed to have been uttered on the occasion of a conference of Savages at Washington with a view to the settlement of our Indian difficulties.]