repose　with　thought；　by　gazing　at　the　Great　Stone　Face。　And　now
  as　he　read　stanzas　that　caused　the　soul　to　thrill　within　him；　he
  lifted　his　eyes　to　the　vast　countenance　beaming　on　him　so
  benignantly。
  〃O　majestic　friend；〃　he　murmured；　addressing　the　Great　Stone
  Face；　〃is　not　this　man　worthy　to　resemble　thee？〃
  The　Face　seemed　to　smile；　but　answered　not　a　word。
  Now　it　happened　that　the　poet；　though　he　dwelt　so　far　away；　had
  not　only　heard　of　Ernest；　but　had　meditated　much　upon　his
  character；　until　he　deemed　nothing　so　desirable　as　to　meet　this
  man；　whose　untaught　wisdom　walked　hand　in　hand　with　the　noble
  simplicity　of　his　life。　One　summer　morning；　therefore；　he　took
  passage　by　the　railroad；　and；　in　the　decline　of　the　afternoon；
  alighted　from　the　cars　at　no　great　distance　from　Ernest's
  cottage。　The　great　hotel；　which　had　formerly　been　the　palace　of
  Mr。　Gathergold；　was　close　at　hand；　but　the　poet；　with　his
  carpet…bag　on　his　arm；　inquired　at　once　where　Ernest　dwelt；　and
  was　resolved　to　be　accepted　as　his　guest。
  Approaching　the　door；　he　there　found　the　good　old　man；　holding　a
  volume　in　his　hand；　which　alternately　he　read；　and　then；　with　a
  finger　between　the　leaves；　looked　lovingly　at　the　Great　Stone
  Face。
  〃Good　evening；〃　said　the　poet。　〃Can　you　give　a　traveller　a
  night's　lodging？〃
  〃Willingly；〃　answered　Ernest；　and　then　he　added；　smiling；
  〃Methinks　I　never　saw　the　Great　Stone　Face　look　so　hospitably　at
  a　stranger。〃
  The　poet　sat　down　on　the　bench　beside　him；　and　he　and　Ernest
  talked　together。　Often　had　the　poet　held　intercourse　with　the
  wittiest　and　the　wisest；　but　never　before　with　a　man　like　Ernest；
  whose　thoughts　and　feelings　gushed　up　with　such　a　natural
  freedom；　and　who　made　great　truths　so　familiar　by　his　simple
  utterance　of　them。　Angels；　as　had　been　so　often　said；　seemed　to
  have　wrought　with　him　at　his　labor　in　the　fields；　angels　seemed
  to　have　sat　with　him　by　the　fireside；　and；　dwelling　with　angels
  as　friend　with　friends；　he　had　imbibed　the　sublimity　of　their
  ideas；　and　imbued　it　with　the　sweet　and　lowly　charm　of　household
  words。　So　thought　the　poet。　And　Ernest；　on　the　other　hand；　was
  moved　and　agitated　by　the　living　images　which　the　poet　flung　out
  of　his　mind；　and　which　peopled　all　the　air　about　the　cottage…door
  with　shapes　of　beauty；　both　gay　and　pensive。　The　sympathies　of
  these　two　men　instructed　them　with　a　profounder　sense　than　either
  could　have　attained　alone。　Their　minds　accorded　into　one　strain；
  and　made　delightful　music　which　neither　of　them　could　have
  claimed　as　all　his　own；　nor　distinguished　his　own　share　from　the
  other's。　They　led　one　another；　as　it　were；　into　a　high　pavilion
  of　their　thoughts；　so　remote；　and　hitherto　so　dim；　that　they　had
  never　entered　it　before；　and　so　beautiful　that　they　desired　to　be
  there　always。
  As　Ernest　listened　to　the　poet；　he　imagined　that　the　Great　Stone
  Face　was　bending　forward　to　listen　too。　He　gazed　earnestly　into
  the　poet's　glowing　eyes。
  〃Who　are　you；　my　strangely　gifted　guest？〃　he　said。
  The　poet　laid　his　finger　on　the　volume　that　Ernest　had　been
  reading。
  〃You　have　read　these　poems；〃　said　he。　〃You　know　me；　then；for　I
  wrote　them。〃
  Again；　and　still　more　earnestly　than　before；　Ernest　examined　the
  poet's　features；　then　turned　towards　the　Great　Stone　Face；　then
  back；　with　an　uncertain　aspect；　to　his　guest。　But　his　countenance
  fell；　he　shook　his　head；　and　sighed。
  〃Wherefore　are　you　sad？〃　inquired　the　poet。
  〃Because；〃　replied　Ernest；　〃all　through　life　I　have　awaited　the
  fulfilment　of　a　prophecy；　and；　when　I　read　these　poems；　I　hoped
  that　it　might　be　fulfilled　in　you。〃
  〃You　hoped；〃　answered　the　poet；　faintly　smiling；　〃to　find　in　me
  the　likeness　of　the　Great　Stone　Face。　And　you　are　disappointed；
  as　formerly　with　Mr。　Gathergold；　and　Old　Blood…and…Thunder；　and
  Old　Stony　Phiz。　Yes；　Ernest；　it　is　my　doom。　You　must　add　my　name
  to　the　illustrious　three；　and　record　another　failure　of　your
  hopes。　Forin　shame　and　sadness　do　I　speak　it；　ErnestI　am　not
  worthy　to　be　typified　by　yonder　benign　and　majestic　image。〃
  〃And　why？〃　asked　Ernest。　He　pointed　to　the　volume。　〃Are　not　those
  thoughts　divine？〃
  〃They　have　a　strain　of　the　Divinity；〃　replied　the　poet。　〃You　can
  hear　in　them　the　far…off　echo　of　a　heavenly　song。　But　my　life；
  dear　Ernest；　has　not　corresponded　with　my　thought。　I　have　had
  grand　dreams；　but　they　have　been　only　dreams；　because　I　have
  livedand　that；　too；　by　my　own　choiceamong　poor　and　mean
  realities。　Sometimes　evenshall　I　dare　to　say　it？I　lack　faith
  in　the　grandeur；　the　beauty；　and　the　goodness；　which　my　own　words
  are　said　to　have　made　more　evident　in　nature　and　in　human　life。
  Why；　then；　pure　seeker　of　the　good　and　true；　shouldst　thou　hope
  to　find　me；　in　yonder　image　of　the　divine？〃
  The　poet　spoke　sadly；　and　his　eyes　were　dim　with　tears。　So；
  likewise；　were　those　of　Ernest。
  At　the　hour　of　sunset；　as　had　long　been　his　frequent　custom；
  Ernest　was　to　discourse　to　an　assemblage　of　the　neighboring
  inhabitants　in　the　open　air。　He　and　the　poet；　arm　in　arm；　still
  talking　together　as　they　went　along；　proceeded　to　the　spot。　It
  was　a　small　nook　among　the　hills；　with　a　gray　precipice　behind；
  the　stern　front　of　which　was　relieved　by　the　pleasant　foliage　of
  many　creeping　plants　that　made　a　tapestry　for　the　naked　rock；　by
  hanging　their　festoons　from　all　its　rugged　angles。　At　a　small
  elevation　above　the　ground；　set　in　a　rich　framework　of　verdure；
  there　appeared　a　niche；　spacious　enough　to　admit　a　human　figure；
  with　freedom　for　such　gestures　as　spontaneously　accompany　earnest
  thought　and　genuine　emotion。　Into　this　natural　pulpit　Ernest
  ascended；　and　threw　a　look　of　familiar　kindness　around　upon　his
  audience。　They　stood；　or　sat；　or　reclined　upon　the　grass；　as
  seemed　good　to　each；　with　the　departing　sunshine　falling
  obliquely　over　them；　and　mingling　its　subdued　cheerfulness　with
  the　solemnity　of　a　grove　of　ancient　trees；　beneath　and　amid　the
  boughs　of　which　the　golden　rays　were　constrained　to　pass。　In
  another　direction　was　seen　the　Great　Stone　Face；　with　the　same
  cheer；　combined　with　the　same　solemnity；　in　its　benignant　aspect。
  Ernest　began　to　speak；　giving　to　the　people　of　what　was　in　his
  heart　and　mind。　His　words　had　power；　because　they　accorded　with
  his　thoughts；　and　his　thoughts　had　reality　and　depth；　because
  they　harmonized　with　the　life　which　he　had　always　lived。　It　was
  not　mere　breath　that　this　preacher　uttered；　they　were　the　words
  of　life；　because　a　life　of　good　deeds　and　holy　love　was　melted
  into　them。　Pearls；　pure　and　rich；　had　been　dissolved　into　this
  precious　draught。　The　poet；　as　he　listened；　felt　that　the　being
  and　character　of　Ernest　were　a　nobler　strain　of　poetry　than　he
  had　ever　written。　His　eyes　glistening　with　tears；　he　gazed
  reverentially　at　the　venerable　man；　and　said　within　himself　that
  never　was　there　an　aspect　so　worthy　of　a　prophet　and　a　sage　as
  that　mild；　sweet；　thoughtful　countenance；　with　the　glory　of　white
  hair　diffused　about　it。　At　a　distance；　but　distinctly　to　be　seen；
  high　up　in　the　golden　light　of　the　setting　sun；　appeared　the
  Great　Stone　Face；　with　hoary　mists　around　it；　like　the　white
  hairs　around　the　brow　of　Ernest。　Its　look　of　grand　beneficence
  seemed　to　embrace　the　world。
  At　that　moment；　in　sympathy　with　a　thought　which　he　was　about　to
  utter；　the　face　of　Ernest　assumed　a　grandeur　of　expression；　so
  imbued　with　benevolence；　that　the　poet；　by　an　irresistible
  impulse；　threw　his　arms　aloft　and　shouted；〃Behold！　Behold！　Ernest
  is　himself　the　likeness　of　the　Great　Stone　Face！〃
  Then　all　the　people　looked；　and　saw　that　what　the　deep…sighted
  poet　said　was　true。　The　prophecy　was　fulfilled。　But　Ernest；
  having　finished　what　he　had　to　say；　took　the　poet's　arm；　and
  walked　slowly　homeward；　still　hoping　that　some　wiser　and　better
  man　than　himself　would　by　and　by　appear；　bearing　a　resemblance　to
  the　GREAT　STONE　FACE。