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。　For…　in
  shame　and　sadness　do　I　speak　it；　Ernest…　I　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　lived…　and　that；　too；
  by　own　choice…　among　poor　and　mean　realities。　Sometimes　even…　shall
  I　dare　to　say　it？…　I　lack　faith　in　the　grandeur；　the　beauty；　and　the
  goodness；　which　my　own　works　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　frame…work　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。
  THE　END
  。