bases his system, generally, upon the hunting style of horsemanship. We have seen some very bad riders among British cavalry officers, brought up in the old-school method of seat and band. Indeed, some satirical writer or another has said there are two professional classes to whom it is impossible to impart the art of horsemanship--sailors and cavalry officers: but that was going a trifle too far, as we have seen specimens of both the one and the other capable of acquitting themselves very well 'across country,' which is the test, _par excellence_, of good riding. That was in later days, however, and since the reforms of the riding master. * * * * * In spite of some repulsive features, we insert the accompanying picture. The subject chosen is not of that character which the highest genius loves to depict; yet it is vigorously drawn, and doubtless true to nature. At the present time it may be useful as a fair representation of many specimens of the boasted Southern cavalier.--F. P. S. THE SOUTHERN COLONEL. Strolling, one morning in 1847, into a Virginia barroom, I accosted a little, puffy-looking man with "Major, can you"--whereupon, drawing up like a bantam, he snapped out, "You're mistaken; I am a colonel;" the colonel being in those days as peculiar to Southern society as the cross to southern constellations. I proceeded to anatomize this representative specimen. Where he obtained his title no one knew. Some thought it hereditary, his grandfather having been a colonel in the Revolution; others supposed it to have been won by conducting the Mexican campaign in the columns of the _Warrior_, after the manner of modern editors; and a few ignorant souls believed he had been born with it in his mouth, instead of a silver spoon. As to the man himself, his great-great-grandmother was a Huguenot; his grandissimo-grandfather came over with Lafayette, and when he made affirmation on "my stars and garters," he was supposed to have reference to certain insignia of nobility, heirlooms in the family from the time of Charlemagne. He had not stature enough for tallness, nor bulk enough for breadth, in his figure resembled the wooden soldiers in the panorama of Bunker Hill, who ran down hill at every fire without moving their legs, and, like a kangaroo, had small feet and head in proportion. He made his front hair into a curl, hanging over his nose, like an index finger, and signed his initials with astonishing flourish, G. B. A., usually rendered by the boys "Great Big Ayres." He spent the winter dormant, like a polar bear, and, in summer, like chaste Diana, followed the hunt, took his morals from Tom Paine, and was, as he said of himself, neither a good Christian nor a bad infidel. He entered Government service in his youth, got drunk, and had been in that condition ever since, varied by occasionally getting gloriously drunk. The only difference between him and a sot was drinking his liquors