Having feasted our eyes on the unveiled grandeur of the stupendous Knight, we begged permission of his keeper to get into the Imperial bed and embrace the gigantic feet. We begged in vain. Let us then grasp that autocratic right hand, which reminds us so touchingly of the dear, fat, fried-cake hands Bridget used to mould for us in our infancy. Our request was declined with emphasis. May we not breathe an affectionate word into that dexter ear, which seems placed far down towards his shoulder as if on purpose to receive our tender message? "He's deaf," said the heartless man with the pole. Let us at least give him one-- just one--kiss for his mother. "He never had no mother," responded the inexorable valet, and we turned sadly away from the Kingly presence of the sweet, sleeping orphan. As we wended our homeward way we gave ourself up to meditation, while our companions gave themselves up to sandwiches and boiled eggs. We called to mind the striking resemblance in form and features, which the vast monarch bears to the Stoneman family, and we rejoiced that a gallant General of our army could trace his ancestry to one who stood so high in the community. From appearances we should judge the seraphic Emperor to be a man of property--worth at least fifty thousand dollars. Whether he were so or not, we certainly were petrified-- with astonishment. Yours for the right, THOMAS. DICK'S REPORT. There's no use talking; that fellow was once a living and breathing human being. In my opinion he walked these hills and valleys, just the same as we do, thousands and thousands of years ago. We read of the sons of Anak, but this chap was the father of Anak. It is beyond the art of man to carve so perfect a human being out of stone. Anybody who could sculp like that could have made his fortune, without hiding his work away and letting it be discovered by accident in after ages. And who ever saw a piece of statuary in such a position, and without hair on? The man that says that this petrified man is nothing but a graven image, proves that he is a little soft in the upper story. There is no shadow of doubt that this is a genuine petrifaction. I would take my oath of it. Dr. Boynton writes a long rigmarole to show that he is a statue made by the Jesuits; but in my opinion the Dr. is just laying low so that he can buy the curiosity and make his pile on him. Why, you can see the very cords in his legs, where the flesh has decayed off; and the matter running out of his right eye has turned to stone. Would the Jesuits have been likely to carve cords and tears? The idea is too absurd to be thought of. This is my report, and I don't care what anybody else says. RICHARD. HARRY'S REPORT.