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54
THE GREAT STONE FACE.
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 medi-
tated much upon his character, until he deemed nothing
SO desirable as to meet this man, whose untaught wis-
dom walked hand in hand with the noble simplicity of
his life. One summer morning, therefore, he took pas-
sage 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
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"ocrText": "54\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nThe songs of this poet found their way to Ernest. He\nread them after his customary toil, seated on the bench\nbefore his cottage-door, where for such a length of time\nhe had filled his repose with thought, by gazing at the\nGreat Stone Face. And now as he read stanzas that\ncaused the soul to thrill within him, he lifted his eyes\nto the vast countenance beaming on him SO benignantly.\n\"O majestic friend,\" he murmured, addressing the\nGreat Stone Face, is not this man worthy to resemble\nthee\nThe Face seemed to smile, but answered not a word.\nNow it happened that the poet, though he dwelt SO\nfar away, had not only heard of Ernest, but had medi-\ntated much upon his character, until he deemed nothing\nSO desirable as to meet this man, whose untaught wis-\ndom walked hand in hand with the noble simplicity of\nhis life. One summer morning, therefore, he took pas-\nsage by the railroad, and, in the decline of the afternoon,\nalighted from the cars at no great distance from Ernest's\ncottage. The great hotel, which had formerly been the\npalace of Mr. Gathergold, was close at hand, but the poet,\nwith his carpet-bag on his arm, inquired at once where\nErnest dwelt, and was resolved to be accepted as his\nguest.\nApproaching the door, he there found the good old\nman, holding a volume in his hand, which alternately he\nread, and then, with a finger between the leaves, looked\nlovingly at the Great Stone Face.\n\" Good evening,\" said the poet. 'Can you give a\ntraveller a night's lodging?\"\n\" Willingly,\" answered Ernest; and then he added,\nsmiling, Methinks I never saw the Great Stone Face\nlook SO hospitably at a stranger.\"\nThe poet sat down on the bench beside him, and he"
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