This creature mounts some sorry screw and parades the Boulevard and the Champs Elysees, frowning dismally upon the world in general, and twirling his moustache with the one hand, whilst he holds on to the saddle with the other.

His sword is of the longest, his waist is of the tightest, and his boots are of the brightest.

His like is only to be seen in England when the _Battle of Waterloo_ is played at Astley's, but his seat is not as good as that of the equestrian warriors of that establishment.

As he slowly paces along he gazes slyly to see how many people are looking at him, and it must be owned that those who do see him, vastly admire him.

What manner of beings these admirers are may be imagined from their idol.