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a very brilliant spectacle； especially as there were numerous
banners flaunting over the cavalcade； on some of which were
gorgeous portraits of the illustrious statesman and the Great
Stone Face； smiling familiarly at one another； like two brothers。
If the pictures were to be trusted； the mutual resemblance； it
must be confessed； was marvellous。 We must not forget to mention
that there was a band of music； which made the echoes of the
mountains ring and reverberate with the loud triumph of its
strains； so that airy and soul…thrilling melodies broke out among
all the heights and hollows； as if every nook of his native
valley had found a voice； to welcome the distinguished guest。 But
the grandest effect was when the far…off mountain precipice flung
back the music； for then the Great Stone Face itself seemed to be
swelling the triumphant chorus； in acknowledgment that； at
length； the man of prophecy was come。
All this while the people were throwing up their hats and
shouting with enthusiasm so contagious that the heart of Ernest
kindled up； and he likewise threw up his hat； and shouted； as
loudly as the loudest； 〃Huzza for the great man！ Huzza for Old
Stony Phiz！〃 But as yet he had not seen him。
〃Here he is； now！〃 cried those who stood near Ernest。 〃There！
There！ Look at Old Stony Phiz and then at the Old Man of the
Mountain； and see if they are not as like as two twin…brothers！〃
In the midst of all this gallant array came an open barouche；
drawn by four white horses； and in the barouche； with his massive
head uncovered； sat the illustrious statesman； Old Stony Phiz
himself。
〃Confess it；〃 said one of Ernest's neighbors to him； 〃the Great
Stone Face has met its match at last！〃
Now； it must be owned that； at his first glimpse of the
countenance which was bowing and smiling from the barouche；
Ernest did fancy that there was a resemblance between it and the
old familiar face upon the mountain…side。 The brow； with its
massive depth and loftiness； and all the other features； indeed；
were boldly and strongly hewn； as if in emulation of a more than
heroic； of a Titanic model。 But the sublimity and stateliness；
the grand expression of a divine sympathy； that illuminated the
mountain visage and etherealized its ponderous granite substance
into spirit； might here be sought in vain。 Something had been
originally left out； or had departed。 And therefore the
marvellously gifted statesman had always a weary gloom in the
deep caverns of his eyes； as of a child that has outgrown its
playthings or a man of mighty faculties and little aims； whose
life； with all its high performances； was vague and empty；
because no high purpose had endowed it with reality。
Still； Ernest's neighbor was thrusting his elbow into his side；
and pressing him for an answer。
〃Confess！ confess！ Is not he the very picture of your Old Man of
the Mountain？〃
〃No！〃 said Ernest bluntly； 〃I see little or no likeness。〃
〃Then so much the worse for the Great Stone Face！〃 answered his
neighbor； and again he set up a shout for Old Stony Phiz。
But Ernest turned away； melancholy； and almost despondent： for
this was the saddest of his disappointments； to behold a man who
might have fulfilled the prophecy； and had not willed to do so。
Meantime； the cavalcade； the banners； the music； and the
barouches swept past him； with the vociferous crowd in the rear；
leaving the dust to settle down； and the Great Stone Face to be
revealed again； with the grandeur that it had worn for untold
centuries。
〃Lo； here I am； Ernest！〃 the benign lips seemed to say。 〃I have
waited longer than thou； and am not yet weary。 Fear not； the man
will come。〃
The years hurried onward； treading in their haste on one
another's heels。 And now they began to bring white hairs； and
scatter them over the head of Ernest； they made reverend wrinkles
across his forehead； and furrows in his cheeks。 He was an aged
man。 But not in vain had he grown old： more than the white hairs
on his head were the sage thoughts in his mind； his wrinkles and
furrows were inscriptions that Time had graved； and in which he
had written legends of wisdom that had been tested by the tenor
of a life。 And Ernest had ceased to be obscure。 Unsought for；
undesired； had come the fame which so many seek； and made him
known in the great world； beyond the limits of the valley in
which he had dwelt so quietly。 College professors； and even the
active men of cities； came from far to see and converse with
Ernest； for the report had gone abroad that this simple
husbandman had ideas unlike those of other men； not gained from
books； but of a higher tone；a tranquil and familiar majesty； as
if he had been talking with the angels as his daily friends。
Whether it were sage； statesman； or philanthropist； Ernest
received these visitors with the gentle sincerity that had
characterized him from boyhood； and spoke freely with them of
whatever came uppermost； or lay deepest in his heart or their
own。 While they talked together； his face would kindle； unawares；
and shine upon them； as with a mild evening light。 Pensive with
the fulness of such discourse； his guests took leave and went
their way； and passing up the valley； paused to look at the Great
Stone Face； imagining that they had seen its likeness in a human
countenance； but could not remember where。
While Ernest had been growing up and growing old； a bountiful
Providence had granted a new poet to this earth。 He likewise； was
a native of the valley； but had spent the greater part of his
life at a distance from that romantic region； pouring out his
sweet music amid the bustle and din of cities。 Often； however；
did the mountains which had been familiar to him in his childhood
lift their snowy peaks into the clear atmosphere of his poetry。
Neither was the Great Stone Face forgotten； for the poet had
celebrated it in an ode； which was grand enough to have been
uttered by its own majestic lips。 This man of genius； we may say；
had come down from heaven with wonderful endowments。 If he sang
of a mountain； the eyes of all mankind beheld a mightier grandeur
reposing on its breast； or soaring to its summit； than had before
been seen there。 If his theme were a lovely lake； a celestial
smile had now been thrown over it； to gleam forever on its
surface。 If it were the vast old sea； even the deep immensity of
its dread bosom seemed to swell the higher； as if moved by the
emotions of the song。 Thus the world assumed another and a better
aspect from the hour that the poet blessed it with his happy
eyes。 The Creator had bestowed him； as the last best touch to his
own handiwork。 Creation was not finished till the poet came to
interpret； and so complete it。
The effect was no less high and beautiful； when his human
brethren were the subject of his verse。 The man or woman； sordid
with the common dust of life； who crossed his daily path； and the
little chil