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with the common dust of life； who crossed his daily path； and the
little child who played in it； were glorified if he beheld them
in his mood of poetic faith。 He showed the golden links of the
great chain that intertwined them with an angelic kindred； he
brought out the hidden traits of a celestial birth that made them
worthy of such kin。 Some； indeed； there were； who thought to show
the soundness of their judgment by affirming that all the beauty
and dignity of the natural world existed only in the poet's
fancy。 Let such men speak for themselves； who undoubtedly appear
to have been spawned forth by Nature with a contemptuous
bitterness； she having plastered them up out of her refuse stuff；
after all the swine were made。 As respects all things else； the
poet's ideal was the truest truth。
The songs of this poet found their way to Ernest。 He read them
after his customary toil； seated on the bench before his
cottage…door； where for such a length of time he had filled his
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 an