Ask the Scholar

{
    "localId": "521044811",
    "label": "Picture Book by Robert E. Peary",
    "core": "doc",
    "dtoType": "document",
    "citationUrl": "https://catalog.archives.gov/id/521044811"
}

{
    "id": "521044811",
    "sourceUrl": "https://catalog.archives.gov/id/521044811",
    "contentType": "document",
    "title": "Picture Book by Robert E. Peary",
    "citationUrl": "https://catalog.archives.gov/id/521044811",
    "collections": [
        "Rear Admiral Robert E. Peary Family Collection",
        "Memorabilia"
    ],
    "iiifBase": "https://s3.dualstack.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/NARAprodstorage/lz/dc-metro/coll-xp/3457986/batch-0001/3457986-007-001-0001.tif",
    "thumbnailUrl": "https://s3.dualstack.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/NARAprodstorage/lz/dc-metro/coll-xp/3457986/batch-0001/3457986-007-001-0001.tif",
    "largeImageUrl": "https://s3.dualstack.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/NARAprodstorage/lz/dc-metro/coll-xp/3457986/batch-0001/3457986-007-001-0001.tif",
    "imageCount": 69,
    "hasImages": true,
    "source": "import",
    "hasTranscription": false
}

{
    "url": "https://catalog.archives.gov/id/521044811",
    "naId": 521044811,
    "levelOfDescription": "item",
    "productionDates": [
        {
            "logicalDate": "1881-01-01",
            "year": 1881
        }
    ],
    "recordType": "description",
    "ocrSource": "nara-archive"
}

{
    "seq": 69,
    "pageIndex": 0,
    "type": "document",
    "url": "https://s3.dualstack.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/NARAprodstorage/lz/dc-metro/coll-xp/3457986/batch-0001/3457986-007-001.pdf",
    "mediaId": "7b665047db6e0f4f",
    "ocrText": "IIMITED\nOF THE\nSTATES\nOF\nfor\n15\nRG 401\n1\n+\nTHE\nWORLD\n$\n8/29 1881\n} / / } } if 00 ? } ? 3 { 5 ? / } { .} } If 40\nus.\ngraw BAAM\n%\nmg\n& my my/mk mg I atrong RS hand mong / & munh & if 150 * mw 333 mg / BEF & Annann of\nAllenight All Hashington That night 00/28 hington\nThis 2 /mm/C g of & if 25 your mg\nNWO mmg x &\nhan\nis\nX\nMMS\n8\nR\n1\nwinds,\nAnd\nthe\nE\nheave\nAmmrow\nmay\nright\none\n\"\nPVa\n1\nI\nge.\nyou E. 15 A is Product 65. Co ? Prince\nder\nQuall\"\n\"\nGrüfte\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nNE afternoon, when the sun was going down, a\nmother and her little boy sat at the door of their\ncottage, talking about the Great Stone Face.\nThey had but to lift their eyes, and there it was plainly\nto be seen, though miles away, with the sunshine bright-\nening all its features.\nAnd what was the Great Stone Face ?\nEmbosomed amongst a family of lofty mountains, there\nwas a valley so spacious that it contained many thousand\ninhabitants. Some of these good people dwelt in log-\nhuts, with the black forest all around them, on the steep\nand difficult hillsides. Others had their homes in com-\nfortable farm-houses, and cultivated the rich soil on the\ngentle slopes or level surfaces of the valley. Others,\nagain, were congregated into populous villages, where\nsome wild, highland rivulet, tumbling down from its\nbirthplace in the upper mountain region, had been caught\nand tamed by human cunning, and compelled to turn the\nmachinery of cotton-factories. The inhabitants of this\nvalley, in short, were numerous, and of many modes of life.\nBut all of them, grown people and children, had a kind\nof familiarity with the Great Stone Face, although some\npossessed the gift of distinguishing this grand natural\nphenomenon more perfectly than many of their neighbors.\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n35\nThe Great Stone Face, then, was a work of Nature in\nher mood of majestic playfulness, formed on the perpen-\ndicular side of a mountain by some immense rocks, which\nhad been thrown together in such a position as, when\nviewed at a proper distance, precisely to resemble the\nfeatures of the human countenance. It seemed as if an\nenormous giant, or a Titan, had sculptured his own like-\nness on the precipice. There was the broad arch of the\nforehead, a hundred feet in height; the nose, with its long\nbridge; and the vast lips, which, if they could have spoken,\nwould have rolled their thunder accents from one end of\nthe valley to the other. True it is, that if the spectator\napproached too near, he lost the outline of the gigantic\nvisage, and could discern only a heap of ponderous and\ngigantic rocks, piled in chaotic ruin one upon another.\nRetracing his steps, however, the wondrous features\nwould again be seen; and the farther he withdrew from\nthem, the more like a human face, with all its original\ndivinity intact, did they appear; until, as it grew dim in\nthe distance, with the clouds and glorified vapor of the\nmountains clustering about it, the Great Stone Face\nseemed positively to be alive.\nIt was a happy lot for children to grow up to man-\nhood or womanhood with the Great Stone Face before\ntheir eyes, for all the features were noble, and the ex-\npression was at once grand and sweet, as if it were the\nglow of a vast, warm heart, that embraced all mankind in\nits affections, and had room for more. It was an education\nonly to look at it. According to the belief of many peo-\nple, the valley owed much of its fertility to this benign\naspect that was continually beaming over it, illuminat-\ning the clouds, and infusing its tenderness into the sun-\nshine.\nAs we began with saying, a mother and her little boy\n36\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nsat at their cottage-door, gazing at the Great Stone Face,\nand talking about it. The child's name was Ernest.\n\"Mother,\" said he, while the Titanic visage smiled on\nhim, \"I wish that it could speak, for it looks SO very\nkindly that its voice must needs be pleasant. If I\nwere to see a man with such a face, I should love him\ndearly.\"\nIf an old prophecy should come to pass,\" answered\nhis mother, we may see a man, some time or other, with\nexactly such a face as that.\"\n\" What prophecy do you mean, dear mother eagerly\ninquired Ernest. Pray tell me all about it\nSo his mother told him a story that her own mother\nhad told to her, when she herself was younger than little\nErnest; a story, not of things that were past, but of what\nwas yet to come; a story, nevertheless, SO very old, that\neven the Indians, who formerly inhabited this valley, had\nheard it from their forefathers, to whom, as they affirmed,\nit had been murmured by the mountain streams, and\nwhispered by the wind among the tree-tops. The pur-\nport was, that, at some future day, a child should be born\nhereabouts, who was destined to become the greatest and\nnoblest personage of his time, and whose countenance, in\nmanhood, should bear an exact resemblance to the Great\nStone Face. Not a few old-fashioned people, and young\nones likewise, in the ardor of their hopes, still cherished\nan enduring faith in this old prophecy. But others, who\nhad seen more of the world, had watched and waited till\nthey were weary, and had beheld no man with such a face,\nnor any man that proved to be much greater or nobler\nthan his neighbors, concluded it to be nothing but an idle\ntale. At all events, the great man of the prophecy had\nnot yet appeared.\n\"0 mother, dear mother cried Ernest, clapping his\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n37\nhands above his head, \"I do hope that I shall live to see\nhim\nHis mother was an affectionate and thoughtful woman,\nand felt that it was wisest not to discourage the generous\nhopes of her little boy. So she only said to him, \"Per-\nhaps you may.\"\nAnd Ernest never forgot the story that his mother told\nhim. It was always in his mind, whenever he looked\nupon the Great Stone Face. He spent his childhood in\nthe log-cottage where he was born, and was dutiful to\nhis mother, and helpful to her in many things, assisting\nher much with his little hands, and more with his loving\nheart. In this manner, from a happy yet often pensive\nchild, he grew up to be a mild, quiet, unobtrusive boy,\nand sun-browned with labor in the fields, but with more\nintelligence brightening his aspect than is seen in many\nlads who have been taught at famous schools. Yet\nErnest had had no teacher, save only that the Great\nStone Face became one to him. When the toil of the\nday was over, he would gaze at it for hours, until he\nbegan to imagine that those vast features recognized\nhim, and gave him a smile of kindness and encourage-\nment, responsive to his own look of veneration. We\nmust not take upon us to affirm that this was a mistake,\nalthough the Face may have looked no more kindly at\nErnest than at all the world besides. But the secret was,\nthat the boy's tender and confiding simplicity discerned\nwhat other people could not see; and thus the love, which\nwas meant for all, became his peculiar portion.\nAbout this time, there went a rumor throughout the\nvalley, that the great man, foretold from ages long ago,\nwho was to bear a resemblance to the Great Stone Face,\nhad appeared at last. It seems that, many years before,\na young man had migrated from the valley and settled at\n38\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\na distant seaport, where, after getting together a little\nmonéy, he had set up as a shopkeeper. His name - but\nI could never learn whether it was his real one, or a\nnickname that had grown out of his habits and success\nin life - was Gathergold. Being shrewd and active,\nand endowed by Providence with that inscrutable faculty\nwhich develops itself in what the world calls luck, he be-\ncame an exceedingly rich merchant, and owner of a whole\nfleet of bulky-bottomed ships. All the countries of the\nglobe appeared to join hands for the mere purpose of\nadding heap after heap to the mountainous accumulation\nof this one man's wealth. The cold regions of the north,\nalmost within the gloom and shadow of the Arctic Circle,\nsent him their tribute in the shape of furs; hot Africa\nsifted for him the golden sands of her rivers, and gathered\nup the ivory tusks of her great elephants out of the for-\nests; the East came bringing him the rich shawls, and\nspices, and teas, and the effulgence of diamonds, and the\ngleaming purity of large pearls. The ocean, not to be\nbehindhand with the earth, yielded up her mighty whales,\nthat Mr. Gathergold might sell their oil, and make a\nprofit on it. Be the original commodity what it might,\nit was gold within his grasp. It might be said of him,\nas of Midas in the fable, that whatever he touched with\nhis finger immediately glistened, and grew yellow, and\nwas changed at once into sterling metal, or, which suited\nhim still better, into piles of coin. And, when Mr. Gath-\nergold had become SO very rich that it would have taken\nhim a hundred years only to count his wealth, he be-\nthought himself of his native valley, and resolved to go\nback thither, and end his days where he was born. With\nthis purpose in view, he sent a skilful architect to build\nhim such a palace as should be fit for a man of his vast\nwealth to live in.\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n39\nAs I have said above, it had already been rumored in\nthe valley that Mr. Gathergold had turned out to be the\nprophetic personage so long and vainly looked for, and\nthat his visage was the perfect and undeniable similitude\nof the Great Stone Face. People were the more ready\nto believe that this must needs be the fact, when they be-\nheld the splendid edifice that rose, as if by enchantment,\non the site of his father's old weather-beaten farm-house.\nThe exterior was of marble, SO dazzlingly white that it\nseemed as though the whole structure might melt away\nin the sunshine, like those humbler ones which Mr. Gath-\nergold, in his young play-days, before his fingers were\ngifted with the touch of transmutation, had been accus-\ntomed to build of snow. It had a richly ornamented\nportico, supported by tall pillars, beneath which was a\nlofty door, studded with silver knobs, and made of a kind\nof variegated wood that had been brought from beyond\nthe sea. The windows, from the floor to the ceiling of\neach stately apartment, were composed, respectively, of\nbut one enormous pane of glass, SO transparently pure\nthat it was said to be a finer medium than even the va-\ncant atmosphere. Hardly anybody had been permitted\nto see the interior of this palace; but it was reported,\nand with good semblance of truth, to be far more gor-\ngeous than the outside, insomuch that whatever was iron\nor brass in other houses was silver or gold in this; and\nMr. Gathergold's bedchamber, especially, made such a\nglittering appearance that no ordinary man would have\nbeen able to close his eyes there. But, on the other\nhand, Mr. Gathergold was now so inured to wealth, that\nperhaps he could not have closed his eyes unless where\nthe gleam of it was certain to find its way beneath his\neyelids.\nIn due time, the mansion was finished; next came the\n40\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nupholsterers, with magnificent furniture; then, a whole\ntroop of black and white servants, the harbingers of Mr.\nGathergold, who, in his own majestic person, was ex-\npected to arrive at sunset. Our friend Ernest, mean-\nwhile, had been deeply stirred by the idea that the great\nman, the noble man, the man of prophecy, after so many\nages of delay, was at length to be made manifest to his\nnative valley. He knew, boy as he was, that there were\na thousand ways in which Mr. Gathergold, with his vast\nwealth, might transform himself into an angel of benefi-\ncence, and assume a control over human affairs as wide\nand benignant as the smile of the Great Stone Face.\nFull of faith and hope, Ernest doubted not that what the\npeople said was true, and that now he was to behold the\nliving likeness of those wondrous features on the moun-\ntain-side. While the boy was still gazing up the valley,\nand fancying, as he always did, that the Great Stone\nFace returned his gaze and looked kindly at him, the\nrumbling of wheels was heard, approaching swiftly along\nthe winding road.\nHere he comes cried a group of people who were\nassembled to witness the arrival. \" Here comes the\ngreat Mr. Gathergold!\nA carriage, drawn by four horses, dashed round the\nturn of the road. Within it, thrust partly out of the\nwindow, appeared the physiognomy of a little old man,\nwith a skin as yellow as if his own Midas-hand had\ntransmuted it. He had a low forehead, small, sharp\neyes, puckered about with innumerable wrinkles, and very\nthin lips, which he made still thinner by pressing them\nforcibly together.\nThe very image of the Great Stone Face shouted\nthe people. \"Sure enough, the old prophecy is true;\nand here we have the great man come, at last!\"\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n41\nAnd, what greatly perplexed Ernest, they seemed act-\nually to believe that here was the likeness which they\nspoke of. By the roadside there chanced to be an old\nbeggar-woman and two little beggar-children, stragglers\nfrom some far-off region, who, as the carriage rolled on-\nward, held out their hands and lifted up their doleful\nvoices, most piteously beseeching charity. A yellow\nclaw - the very same that had clawed together SO much\nwealth - poked itself out of the coach-window, and\ndropt some copper coins upon the ground; so that,\nthough the great man's name seems to have been Gath-\nergold, he might just as suitably have been nicknamed\nScattercopper. Still, nevertheless, with an earnest shout,\nand evidently with as much good faith as ever, the peo-\nple bellowed, -\nHe is the very image of the Great Stone Face!'\nBut Ernest turned sadly from the wrinkled shrewd-\nness of that sordid visage, and gazed up the valley,\nwhere, amid a gathering mist, gilded by the last sun-\nbeams, he could still distinguish those glorious features\nwhich had impressed themselves into his soul. Their\naspect cheered him. What did the benign lips seem to\nsay?\n\"He will come! Fear not, Ernest; the man will\ncome!\"\nThe years went on, and Ernest ceased to be a boy.\nHe had grown to be a young man now. He attracted\nlittle notice from the other inhabitants of the valley; for\nthey saw nothing remarkable in his way of life, save\nthat, when the labor of the day was over, he still loved\nto go apart and gaze and meditate upon the Great Stone\nFace. According to their idea of the matter, it was a\nfolly, indeed, but pardonable, inasmuch as Ernest was\nindustrious, kind, and neighborly, and neglected no duty\n42\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nfor the sake of indulging this idle habit. They knew not\nthat the Great Stone Face had become a teacher to him,\nand that the sentiment which was expressed in it would\nenlarge the young man's heart, and fill it with wider and\ndeeper sympathies than other hearts. They knew not\nthat thence would come a better wisdom than could be\nlearned from books, and a better life than could be\nmoulded on the defaced example of other human lives.\nNeither did Ernest know that the thoughts and affec-\ntions which came to him SO naturally, in the fields and\nat the fireside, and wherever he communed with himself,\nwere of a higher tone than those which all men shared\nwith him. A simple soul, — simple as when his mother\nfirst taught him the old prophecy, - he beheld the mar-\nvellous features beaming adown the valley, and still\nwondered that their human counterpart was SO long in\nmaking his appearance.\nBy this time poor Mr. Gathergold was dead and bur-\nied; and the oddest part of the matter was, that his\nwealth, which was the body and spirit of his existence,\nhad disappeared before his death, leaving nothing of him\nbut a living skeleton, covered over with a wrinkled, yel-\nlow skin. Since the melting away of his gold, it had\nbeen very generally conceded that there was no such\nstriking resemblance, after all, betwixt the ignoble fea-\ntures of the ruined merchant and that majestic face upon\nthe mountain-side. So the people ceased to honor him\nduring his lifetime, and quietly consigned him to forget-\nfulness after his decease. Once in a while, it is true,\nhis memory was brought up in connection with the mag-\nnificent palace which he had built, and which had long\nago been turned into a hotel for the accommodation of\nstrangers, multitudes of whom came, every summer, to\nvisit that famous natural curiosity, the Great Stone Face.\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n43\nThus, Mr. Gathergold being discredited and thrown into\nthe shade, the man of prophecy was yet to come.\nIt so happened that a native-born son of the valley,\nmany years before, had enlisted as a soldier, and, after\na great deal of hard fighting, had now become an illus-\ntrious commander. Whatever he may be called in his-\ntory, he was known in camps and on the battle-field\nunder the nickname of Old Blood-and-Thunder. This\nwar-worn veteran, being now infirm with age and\nwounds, and weary of the turmoil of a military life,\nand of the roll of the drum and the clangor of the\ntrumpet, that had so long been ringing in his ears,\nhad lately signified a purpose of returning to his na-\ntive valley, hoping to find repose where he remembered\nto have left it. The inhabitants, his old neighbors and\ntheir grown-up children, were resolved to welcome the\nrenowned warrior with a salute of cannon and a public\ndinner; and all the more enthusiastically, it being af-\nfirmed that now, at last, the likeness of the Great\nStone Face had actually appeared. An aid-de-camp of\nOld Blood-and-Thunder, travelling through the valley,\nwas said to have been struck with the resemblance.\nMoreover the schoolmates and early acquaintances of\nthe general were ready to testify, on oath, that, to the\nbest of their recollection, the aforesaid general had been\nexceedingly like the majestic image, even when a boy,\nonly that the idea had never occurred to them at that\nperiod. Great, therefore, was the excitement through-\nout the valley; and many people, who had never once\nthought of glancing at the Great Stone Face for years\nbefore, now spent their time in gazing at it, for the sake\nof knowing exactly how General Blood-and-Thunder\nlooked.\nOn the day of the great festival, Ernest, with all the\n44\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nother people of the valley, left their work, and proceeded\nto the spot where the sylvan banquet was prepared.\nAs he approached, the loud voice of the Rev. Dr.\nBattleblast was heard, beseeching a blessing on the good\nthings set before them, and on the distinguished friend\nof peace in whose honor they were assembled. The\ntables were arranged in a cleared space of the woods,\nshut in by the surrounding trees, except where a vista\nopened eastward, and afforded a distant view of the\nGreat Stone Face. Over the general's chair, which\nwas a relic from the home of Washington, there was\nan arch of verdant boughs, with the laurel profusely\nintermixed, and surmounted by his country's banner,\nbeneath which he had won his victories. Our friend\nErnest raised himself on his tiptoes, in hopes to get a\nglimpse of the celebrated guest; but there was a mighty\ncrowd about the tables anxious to hear the toasts and\nspeeches, and to catch any word that might fall from the\ngeneral in reply; and a volunteer company, doing duty\nas a guard, pricked ruthlessly with their bayonets at any\nparticularly quiet person among the throng. So Ernest,\nbeing of an unobtrusive character, was thrust quite into\nthe background, where he could see no more of Old\nBlood-and-Thunder's physiognomy than if it had been\nstill blazing on the battle-field. To console himself, he\nturned towards the Great Stone Face, which, like a\nfaithful and long-remembered friend, looked back and\nsmiled upon him through the vista of the forest. Mean-\ntime, however, he could overhear the remarks of various\nindividuals, who were comparing the features of the hero\nwith the face on the distant mountain-side.\n\"T is the same face, to a hair!\" cried one man,\ncutting a caper for joy.\n\"Wonderfully like, that 's a fact responded another.\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n45\nLike ! why, I call it Old Blood-and-Thunder him-\nself, in a monstrous looking-glass cried a third.\nAnd why not ? He's the greatest man of this or any\nother age, beyond a doubt.\"\nAnd then all three of the speakers gave a great shout,\nwhich communicated electricity to the crowd, and called\nforth a roar from a thousand voices, that went reverber-\nating for miles among the mountains, until you might\nhave supposed that the Great Stone Face had poured its\nthunder-breath into the cry. All these comments, and\nthis vast enthusiasm, served the more to interest our\nfriend; nor did he think of questioning that now, at\nlength, the mountain-visage had found its human coun-\nterpart. It is true, Ernest had imagined that this long-\nlooked-for personage would appear in the character of\na man of peace, uttering wisdom, and doing good, and\nmaking people happy. But, taking an habitual breadth\nof view, with all his simplicity, he contended that Provi-\ndence should choose its own method of blessing man-\nkind, and could conceive that this great end might be\neffected even by a warrior and a bloody sword, should\ninscrutable wisdom see fit to order matters so.\n\"The general! the general! was now the cry.\n\"Hush ! silence Old Blood-and-Thunder's going to\nmake a speech.\"\nEven so; for, the cloth being removed, the general's\nhealth had been drunk amid shouts of applause, and he\nnow stood upon his feet to thank the company. Ernest\nsaw him. There he was, over the shoulders of the crowd,\nfrom the two glittering epaulets and embroidered col-\nlar upward, beneath the arch of green boughs with in-\ntertwined laurel, and the banner drooping as if to shade\nhis brow ! And there, too, visible in the same glance,\nthrough the vista of the forest, appeared the Great Stone\n46\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nFace! And was there, indeed, such a resemblance as\nthe crowd had testified? Alas, Ernest could not recog-\nnize it! He beheld a war-worn and weather-beaten\ncountenance, full of energy, and expressive of an iron\nwill; but the gentle wisdom, the deep, broad, tender\nsympathies, were altogether wanting in Old Blood-and-\nThunder's visage; and even if the Great Stone Face had\nassumed his look of stern command, the milder traits\nwould still have tempered it.\n\"This is not the man of prophecy,\" sighed Ernest, to\nhimself, as he made his way out of the throng. \"And\nmust the world wait longer yet?\nThe mists had congregated about the distant moun-\ntain-side, and there were seen the grand and awful\nfeatures of the Great Stone Face, awful but benignant,\nas if a mighty angel were sitting among the hills, and\nenrobing himself in a cloud-vesture of gold and purple.\nAs' he looked, Ernest could hardly believe but that a\nsmile beamed over the whole visage, with a radiance\nstill brightening, although without motion of the lips.\nIt was probably the effect of the western sunshine, melt-\ning through the thinly diffused vapors that had swept\nbetween him and the object that he gazed at. But-\nas it always did - the aspect of his marvellous friend\nmade Ernest as hopeful as if he had never hoped in\nvain.\n\"Fear not, Ernest,\" said his heart, even as if the\nGreat Face were whispering him, - \"fear not, Ernest;\nhe will come.\"\nMore years sped swiftly and tranquilly away. Ernest\nstill dwelt in his native valley, and was now a man of\nmiddle age. By imperceptible degrees, he had become\nknown among the people. Now, as heretofore, he la-\nbored for his bread, and was the same simple-hearted\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n47\nman that he had always been. But he had thought and\nfelt SO much, he had given so many of the best hours of\nhis life to unworldly hopes for some great good to man-\nkind, that it seemed as though he had been talking with\nthe angéls, and had imbibed a portion of their wisdom\nunawares. It was visible in the calm and well-consid-\nered beneficence of his daily life, the quiet stream of\nwhich had made a wide green margin all along its\ncourse. Not a day passed by, that the world was not\nthe better because this man, humble as he was, had\nlived. He never stepped aside from his own path, yet\nwould always reach a blessing to his neighbor. Almost\ninvoluntarily, too, he had become a preacher. The pure\nand high simplicity of his thought, which, as one of\nits manifestations, took shape in the good deeds that\ndropped silently from his hand, flowed also forth in\nspeech. He uttered truths that wrought upon and\nmoulded the lives of those who heard him. His audi-\ntors, it may be, never suspected that Ernest, their own\nneighbor and familiar friend, was more than an ordinary\nman; least of all did Ernest himself suspect it; but, in-\nevitably as the murmur of a rivulet, came thoughts out\nof his mouth that no other human lips had spoken.\nWhen the people's minds had had a little time to cool,\nthey were ready enough to acknowledge their mistake in\nimagining a similarity between General Blood-and-Thun-\nder's truculent physiognomy and the benign visage on\nthe mountain-side. But now, again, there were reports\nand many paragraphs in the newspapers, affirming that\nthe likeness of the Great Stone Face had appeared upon\nthe broad shoulders of a certain eminent statesman. He,\nlike Mr. Gathergold and Old Blood-and-Thunder, was a\nnative of the valley, but had left it in his early days,\nand taken up the trades of law and politics. Instead of\n48\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nthe rich man's wealth and the warrior's sword, he had\nbut a tongue, and it was mightier than both together.\nSo wonderfully eloquent was he, that whatever be might\nchoose to say, his auditors had no choice but to believe\nhim; wrong looked like right, and right like wrong;\nfor when it pleased him, he could make a kind of illu-\nminated fog with his mere breath, and obscure the nat-\nural daylight with it. His tongue, indeed, was a magic\ninstrument: sometimes it rumbled like the thunder;\nsometimes it warbled like the sweetest music. It was\nthe blast of war, — the song of peace; and it seemed to\nhave a heart in it, when there was no such matter. In\ngood truth, he was a wondrous man; and when his\ntongue had acquired him all other imagiuable success,\n-when it had been heard in halls of state, and in the\ncourts of princes and potentates, - after it had made\nhim known all over the world, even as a voice crying\nfrom shore to shore, it finally persuaded his country-\nmen to select him for the Presidency. Before this time,\n-indeed, as soon as he began to grow celebrated, —\nhis admirers had found out the resemblance between him\nand the Great Stone Face; and SO much were they\nstruck by it, that throughout the country this distin-\nguished gentleman was known by the name of Old\nStony Phiz. The phrase was considered as giving a\nhighly favorable aspect to his political prospects; for,\nas is likewise the case with the Popedom, nobody ever\nbecomes President without taking a name other than his\nown.\nWhile his friends were doing their best to make him\nPresident, Old Stony Phiz, as he was called, set out on a\nvisit to the valley where he was born. Of course, he had\nno other object that to shake hands with his fellow-citi-\nzens, and neither thought nor cared about any effect\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n49\nwhich his progress through the country might have upon\nthe election. Magnificent preparations were made to\nreceive the illustrious statesman; a cavalcade of horse-\nmen set forth to meet him at the boundary line of the\nState, and all the people left their business and gathered\nalong the wayside to see him pass. Among these was\nErnest. Though more than once disappointed, as we\nhave seen, he had such a hopeful and confiding nature,\nthat he was always ready to believe in whatever seemed\nbeautiful and good. He kept his heart continually open,\nand thus was sure to catch the blessing from on high,\nwhen it should come. So now again, as buoyantly as\never, he went forth to behold the likeness of the Great\nStone Face.\nThe cavalcade came prancing along the road, with a\ngreat clattering of hoofs and a mighty cloud of dust,\nwhich rose up so dense and high that the visage of the\nmountain-side was completely hidden from Ernest's eyes.\nAll the great men of the neighborhood were there on\nhorseback: militia officers, in uniform; the member of\nCongress; the sheriff of the county the editors of news-\npapers and many a farmer, too, had mounted his pa-\ntient steed, with his Sunday coat upon his back. It\nreally was a very brilliant spectacle, especially as there\nwere numerous banners flaunting over the cavalcade, on\nsome of which were gorgeous portraits of the illustrious\nstatesman and the Great Stone Face, smiling familiarly\nat one another, like two brothers. If the pictures were\nto be trusted, the mutual resemblance, it must be con-\nfessed, was marvellous. We must not forget to mem-\ntion that there was a band of music, which made the\nechoes of the mountains ring and reverberate with the\nloud triumph of its strains; SO that airy and soul-thrilling\nmelodies broke out among all the heights and hollows,\n3\nD\n50\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nas if every nook of his native valley had found a voice,\nto welcome the distinguished guest. But the grandest\neffect was when the far-off mountain precipice flung\nback the music; for then the Great Stone Face itself\nseemed to be swelling the triumphant chorus, in ac-\nknowledgment that, at length, the man of prophecy was\ncome.\nAll this while the people were throwing up their hats\nand shouting, with enthusiasm so contagious that the\nheart of Ernest kindled up, and he likewise threw up\nhis hat, and shouted, as loudly as the loudest, Huzza\nfor the great man! Huzza for Old Stony Phiz?\" But\nas yet he had not seen him.\n\" Here he is, now!\" cried those who stood near Er-\nnest. \"There! There! Look at Old Stony Phiz and\nthen at the Old Man of the Mountain, and see if they\nare not as like as two twin-brothers!\"\nIn the midst of all this gallant array, came an open\nbaronche, drawn by four white horses; and in the ba-\nrouche, with his massive head uncovered, sat the illus-\ntrious statesman, Old Stony Phiz himself.\n'Confess it,\" said one of Ernest's neighbors to him,\nthe Great Stone Face has met its match at last!\"\nNow, it must be owned that, at his first glimpse of the\ncountenance which was bowing and smiling from the\nbarouche, Ernest did fancy that there was a resemblance\nbetween it and the old familiar face upon the mountain-\nside. The brow, with its massive depth and loftiness,\nand all the other features, indeed, were boldly and strong-\nly hewn, as if in emulation of a more than heroic, of a\nTitanic model. But the sublimity and stateliness, the\ngrand expression of a divine sympathy, that illuminated\nthe mountain visage, and etherealized its ponderous\ngranite substance into spirit, might here be sought in\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n51\nvain. Something had been originally left out, or had\ndeparted. And therefore the marvellously gifted states-\nman had always a weary gloom in the deep caverns of\nhis eyes, as of a child that has outgrown its playthings,\nor a man of mighty faculties and little aims, whose life,\nwith all its high performances, was vague and empty,\nbecause no high purpose had endowed it with reality.\nStill, Ernest's neighbor was thrusting his elbow into\nhis side, and pressing him for an answer.\n'Confess confess ! Is not he the very picture of your\nOld Man of the Mountain\n\"No!\" said Ernest, bluntly, \"I see little or no like-\nness.\"\n\"Then so much the worse for the Great Stone Face\nanswered his neighbor; and again he set up a shout for\nOld Stony Phiz.\nBut Ernest turned away, melancholy, and almost\ndespondent: for this was the saddest of his disappoint-\nments, to behold a man who might have fulfilled the\nprophecy, and had not willed to do so. Meantime, the\ncavalcade, the banners, the music, and the barouches\nswept past him, with the vociferous crowd in the rear,\nleaving the dust to settle down, and the Great Stone\nFace to be revealed again, with the grandeur that it had\nworn for untold centuries.\n\"Lo, here I am, Ernest the benign lips seemed to\nsay. \"I have waited longer than thou, and am not yet\nweary. Fear not; the man will come.\"\nThe years hurried onward, treading in their haste on\none another's heels. And now they began to bring white\nhairs, and scatter them over the head of Ernest; they\nmade reverend wrinkles across his forehead, and furrows\nin his cheeks. He was an aged man. But not in vain\nhad he grown old: more than the white hairs on his head\n52\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nwere the sage thoughts in his mind; his wrinkles and\nfurrows were inscriptions that Time had graved, and in\nwhich he had written legends of wisdom that had been\ntested by the tenor of a life. And Ernest had ceased to\nbe obscure. Unsought for, undesired, had come the fame\nwhich SO many seek, and made him known in the great\nworld, beyond the limits of the valley in which he had\ndwelt SO quietly. College professors, and even the active\nmen of cities, came from far to see and converse with\nErnest; for the report had gone abroad that this simple\nhusbandman had ideas unlike those of other men, not\ngained from books, but of a higher tone, - a tranquil\nand familiar majesty, as if he had been talking with the\nangels as his daily friends. Whether it were sage,\nstatesman, or philanthropist, Ernest received these visit-\nors with the gentle sincerity that had characterized him\nfrom boyhood, and spoke freely with them of whatever\ncame uppermost, or lay deepest in his heart or their own.\nWhile they talked together, his face would kindle, un-\nawares, and shine upon them, as with a mild evening\nlight. Pensive with the fulness of such discourse, his\nguests took leave and went their way; and passing up\nthe valley, paused to look at the Great Stone Face, im-\nagining that they had seen its likeness in a human coun-\ntenance, but could not remember where.\nWhile Ernest had been growing up and growing old,\na bountiful Providence had granted a new poet to this\nearth. He, likewise, was a native of the valley, but had\nspent the greater part of his life at a distance from that\nromantic region, pouring out his sweet music amid the\nbustle and din of cities. Often, however, did the moun-\ntains which had been familiar to him in his childhood\nlift their snowy peaks into the clear atmosphere of his\npoetry. Neither was the Great Stone Face forgotten,\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n53\nfor the poet had celebrated it in an ode, which was grand\nenough to have been uttered by its own majestic lips.\nThis man of genius, we may say, had come down from\nheaven with wonderful endowments. If he sang of a\nmountain; the eyes of all mankind beheld a mightier\ngrandeur reposing on its breast, or soaring to its summit,\nthan had before been seen there. If his theme were a\nlovely lake, a celestial smile had now been thrown over\nit, to gleam forever on its surface. If it were the vast\nold sea, even the deep immensity of its dread bosom\nseemed to swell the higher, as if moved by the emotions\nof the song. Thus the world assumed another and a\nbetter aspect from the hour that the poet blessed it with\nhis happy eyes. The Creator had bestowed him, as the\nlast best touch to his own handiwork. Creation was\nnot finished till the poet came to interpret, and so com-\nplete it.\nThe effect was no less high and beautiful, when his\nhuman brethren were the subject of his verse. The man\nor woman, sordid with the common dust of life, who\ncrossed his daily path, and the little child who played in\nit, were glorified if he beheld them in his mood of poetic\nfaith. He showed the golden links of the great chain\nthat intertwined them with an angelic kindred ; he\nbrought out the hidden traits of a celestial birth that\nmade them worthy of such kin. Some, indeed, there\nwere, who thought to show the soundness of their judg-\nment by affirming that all the beauty and dignity of the\nnatural world existed only in the poet's fancy. Let such\nmen speak for themselves, who undoubted!y appear to\nhave been spawned forth by Nature with a contemptuous\nbitterness ; she having plastered them up out of her\nrefuse stuff, after all the swine were made. As respects\nall things clse, the poet's ideal was the truest truth.\n54\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\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n55\nand Ernest talked together. Often had the poet held\nintercourse with the wittiest and the wisest, but never\nbefore with a man like Ernest, whose thoughts and feel-\nings gushed up with such a natural freedom, and who\nmade great truths so familiar by his simple utterance of\nthem. Angels, as had been SO often said, seemed to\nhave wrought with him at his labor in the fields angels\nseemed to have sat with him by the fireside; and, dwell-\ning with angels as friend with friends, he had imbibed\nthe sublimity of their ideas, and imbued it with the sweet\nand lowly charm of household words. So thought the\npoet. And Ernest, on the other hand, was moved and\nagitated by the living images which the poet flung out\nof his mind, and which peopled all the air about the\ncottage-door with shapes of beauty, both gay and pensive.\nThe sympathies of these two men instructed them with\na profounder sense than either could have attained alone.\nTheir minds accorded into one strain, and made delight-\nful music which neither of them could have claimed as all\nhis own, nor distinguished his own share from the other's.\nThey led one another, as it were, into a high pavilion of\ntheir thoughts, SO remote, and hitherto SO dim, that they\nhad never entered it before, and so beautiful that they\ndesired to be there always.\nAs Ernest listéned to the poet, he imagined that the\nGreat Stone Face was bending forward to listen too. Ile\ngazed earnestly into the poet's glowing eyes.\nWho are you, my strangely gifted guest he\nsaid.\nThe poet laid his finger on the volume that Ernest\nhad been reading.\n\" You have read these poems,\" said he. You know\nme, then, - for I wrote them.\"\nAgain, and still more earnestly than before, Ernest\n56\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nexamined the poet's features; then turned towards the\nGreat Stone Face; then back, with an uncertain aspect,\nto his guest. But his countenance fell; he shook his\nhead, and sighed.\n\" Wherefore are you sad inquired the poet.\n\"Because,\" replied Ernest, \"all through life I have\nawaited the fulfilment of a prophecy; and, when I read\nthese poems, I hoped that it might be fulfilled in you.\"\nYou hoped,\" answered the poet, faintly smiling, to\nfind in me the likeness of the Great Stone Face. And\nyou are disappointed, as formerly with Mr. Gathergold,\nand Old Blood-and-Thunder, and Old Stony Phiz. Yes,\nErnest, it is my doom. You must add my name to the\nillustrious three, and record another failure of your\nhopes. For - in shame and sadness do I speak it, Er-\nnest - I am not worthy to be typified by yonder benign\nand majestic image.\"\n\" And why asked Ernest. He pointed to the vol-\nume. \" Are not those thoughts divine ?\"\n\"They have a strain of the Divinity,\" replied the\npoet. You can hear in them the far-off echo of a heav-\nenly song. But my life, dear Ernest, has not corre-\nsponded with my thought. I have had grand dreams,\nbut they have been only dreams, because I have lived\nand that, too, by my own choice - among poor and\nmean realities. Sometimes even - shall I dare to say\nit ?- I lack faith in the grandeur, the beauty, and the\ngoodness, which my own works are said to have made\nmore evident in nature and in human life. Why, then,\npure seeker of the good and true, shouldst thou hope to\nfind me, in yonder image of the divine\nThe poet spoke sadly, and his eyes were dim with\ntears. So, likewise, were those of Ernest.\nAt the hour of sunset, as had long been his frequent\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\n57\ncustom, Ernest was to discourse to an assemblage of the\nneighboring inhabitants in the open air. He and the\npoet, arm in arm, still talking together as they went\nalong, proceeded to the spot. It was a small nook among\nthe hills, with a gray precipice behind, the stern front\nof which was relieved by the pleasant foliage of many\ncreeping plants, that made a tapestry for the naked\nrock, by hanging their festoons from all its rugged\nangles. At a small elevation above the ground, set in\na rich framework of verdure, there appeared a niche,\nspacious enough to admit a human figure, with freedom\nfor such gestures as spontaneously accompany earnest\nthought and genuine emotion. Into this natural pulpit\nErnest ascended, and threw a look of familiar kindness\naround upon his audience. They stood, or sat, or re-\nclined upon the grass, as seemed good to each, with the\ndeparting sunshine falling obliquely over them, and\nmingling its subdued cheerfulness with the solemnity of\na grove of ancient trees, beneath and amid the boughs\nof which the golden rays were constrained to pass. In\nanother direction was seen the Great Stone Face, with\nthe same cheer, combined with the same solemnity, in\nits benignant aspect.\nErnest began to speak, giving to the people of what\nwas in his heart and mind. His words had power, be-\ncause they accorded with his thoughts; and his thoughts\nhad reality and depth, because they harmonized with the\nlife which he had always lived. It was not mere breath\nthat this preacher uttered; they were the words of life,\nbecause a life of good deeds and holy. love was melted\ninto them. Pearls, pure and rich, had been dissolved\ninto this precious draught. The poet, as he listened,\nfelt that the being and character of Ernest were a nobler\nstrain of poetry than he had ever written. His eyes\n3\n58\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nglistening with tears, he gazed reverentially at the vener-\nable man, and said within himself that never was there\nan aspect SO worthy of a prophet and a sage as that\nmild, sweet, thoughtful countenance, with the glory of\nwhite hair diffused about it. At a distance, but dis-\ntinctly to be seen, high up in the golden light of the\nsetting sun, appeared the Great Stone Face, with hoary\nmists around it, like the white hairs around the brow of\nErnest. Its look of grand beneficence seemed to em-\nbrace the world.\nAt that moment, in sympathy with a thought which\nhe was about to utter, the face of Ernest assumed a\ngrandeur of expression, SO imbued with benevolence, that\nthe poet, by an irresistible impulse, threw his arms aloft,\nand shouted,\n\"Behold ! Behold ! Ernest is himself the likeness of\nthe Great Stone Face\nThen all the people looked, and saw that what the deep-\nsighted poet said was true. The prophecy was fulfilled.\nBut Ernest, having finished what he had to say, took\nthe poet's arm, and walked slowly homeward, still hoping\nthat some wiser and better man than himself would by\nand by appear, bearing a resemblance to the GREAT\nSTONE FACE.\nHill\n& if -MMO & mg mmP & more into 10mg 3\nlighs\n-An\nLONG STRENTARY\nSOLNE. THE CONWAY NOTHER THAT DACO Ford INNOK\nTHE LEDGES, NORTH CONWAY.\n3 26\nI\n20\"\n5\nCONWAY MEADOWS.\nKEARSARGE IN WINTER.\nCLAIMS STATES FROM THORES FILL\nthe 1\n\" ahe I' also 1 ARUM are are gray on 2 Your wags below, \"\nThe 24. X 1 the Shall & 3rah\nMOAT MOUNTAIN, FROM THE WILDCAT, NEAR JACKSON.\nCARTER NOTCH, FROM THORN HILL.\nCRYSTAL CASCADE.\nTO TUCKERMAN'S RAVINE.\n26\nThe\nthe\nOne / & & 3r & & in & /\nshare,\nINDON\nADAMS AND GREAT\nGULF.\nM\nMOUNT WASHINGTON, FROM SHELDURNE.\n\" 3 This\n7 E 3 it E of they you & y & This\nVIEW FROM ETHAN CRAWFORD'S, JEFFERSON.\n',\nhall 2 shalls\"\nn/s\n1\nCOMMUNITY STATES MOUNT\nINNON\nFROM\nWillkim\n4.WOLF\nELEPHANT'S HEAD, WHITE MOUNTAIN NOT\nMONTH\nTHE THE\nMOUNT WILLARD, FROM LEDGE OF WILLEY BROOK.\nCASCADES OF MOUNT WEBSTER, FROM MOUNT WILLARD,\nhow are 3, L are daris of X & Insury ,,\n\"23\" ID The 133 you hials Inc 3\nMOUNT LAFAYETTE, FROM BETHLEHEM.\nFRANCONIA NOTCH, FROM THORNTON.\nECHO LAKE AND EAGLE CLIFF.\nCLIFF\nMOUNT CANNON, FROM EAGLE\nSHOULD\nTHE PROPER BOAD,\nNo\nof\n? x ? corr.\n& time\nis 1/15 Was X lear\nspace: bad.\nw when all\na\nTHE BASIN.\nDO\nExp\nof aiach, 8 savid the the\nDO\n\" a 10 a same, muw\nTHE FLUME.\nPASSACONAWAY, FROM BEAR-CAMP RIVER.\nTHE\n& or rayal\nST and are & or 51 day $ f Co mg\nwelf This presoga in that me mill, have\nmg \"I\nand E the 1 \"I\"\nof mg El by x Co E' $ & & Xr.88 The a Co the and ports of is at And 35\nof\n.75 munt cc 39 mg of 1 3 3 the E Mutrer / EX\nof\nis!\nTHE"
}