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One afternoon, when the sun was going down, a mother and her little boy sat at the door of their cottage, talking about the Great Stone Face. They had but to lift their eyes, and there it was plainly to be seen, though miles away, with the sunshine brightening 5 all its features.

And what was the Great Stone Face?

Embosomed amongst a family of lofty mountains, there was a valley so spacious that it contained many thousand inhabitants.

Some of these good people dwelt in log-huts, with the black forest 10 all around them, on the steep and difficult hillsides. Others had

their homes in comfortable farmhouses, and cultivated the rich soil on the gentle slopes or level surfaces of the valley. Others. again, were congregated into populous villages, where some wild,

highland rivulet, tumbling down from its birthplace in the upper 15 mountain region, had been caught and tamed by human cunning,

and compelled to turn the machinery of cotton factories. The inhabitants of this valley, in short, were numerous, and of many modes of life. But all of them, grown people and children, had a

kind of familiarity with the Great Stone Face, although some 20 possessed the gift of distinguishing this grand natural phenomenon more perfectly than many of their neighbors.

The Great Stone Face, then, was a work of Nature in her mood of majestic playfulness, formed on the perpendicular side of a

mountain by some immense rocks, which had been thrown together 25 in such a position as, when viewed at a proper distarice, precisely

to resemble the features of the human countenance. It seemed as if an enormous giant, or a Titan, had sculptured his own likeness on the precipice. There was the broad arch of the forehead,

a hundred feet in height; the nose, with its long bridge; and the 30 vast lips, which, if they could have spoken, would have rolled their

thunder accents from one end of the valley to the other. True it is, that if the spectator approached too near, he lost the outline of the gigantic visage, and could discern only a heap of ponderous

and gigantic rocks piled in chaotic ruin one upon another. Re35 tracing his steps, however, the wondrous features would again


be seen; and the further he withdrew from them, the more like a human face, with all its original divinity intact, did they appear; until, as it grew, dim in the distance, with the clouds and glorified vapor of the mountains clustering about it, the Great Stone Face seemed positively to be alive.

It was a happy lot for children to grow up to manhood or womanhood with the Great Stone Face before their eyes, for all the features were noble, and the expression was at once grand and

sweet, as if it were the glow of a vast, warm heart, that embraced 10 all mankind in its affections, and had room for more. It was an

education only to look at it. According to the belief of many people, the valley owed much of its fertility to this benign aspect that was continually beaming over it, illuminating the clouds, and

infusing its tenderness into the sunshine. 15 As we began with saying, a mother and her little boy sat at their

cottage door, gazing at the Great Stone Face, and talking about it. The child's name was Ernest.

“Mother,” said he, while the Titanic visage smiled on him, “I wish that it could speak, for it looks so very kindly that its voice 20 must needs be pleasant. If I were to see a man with such a face, I should love him dearly."

If an old prophecy should come to pass,” answered his mother, we may see a man, some time or other, with exactly such a face

as that." 25 “What prophecy do you mean, dear mother?” eagerly inquired Ernest. “Pray tell me all about it.”

So his mother told him a story that her own mother had told to her, when she herself was younger than little Ernest; a story, not

of things that were past, but of what was yet to come; a story, 30 nevertheless, so very old, that even the Indians, who formerly in

habited this valley, had heard it from their forefathers, to whom, as they affirmed, it had been murmured by the mountain streams, and whispered by the wind among the tree-tops. The purport was,

that, at some future day, a child should be born hereabouts, who 35 was destined to become the greatest and noblest personage of his

time, and whose countenance, in manhood, should bear an exact resemblance to the Great Stone Face. Not a few old-fashioned people, and young ones likewise, in the ardor of their hopes, still

cherished an enduring faith in this old prophecy. But others, 40 who had seen more of the world, had watched and waited till they

were weary, and had beheld no man with such a face, nor any man that proved to be much greater or nobler than his neighbors, con

cluded it to be nothing but an idle tale. At all events, the great man of the prophecy had not yet appeared.

O mother, dear mother!” cried Ernest, clapping his hands above his head, “I do hope I shall live to see him.” His mother 5 was an affectionate and thoughtful woman, and felt that it was wisest not to discourage the generous hopes of her little boy. So she only said to him, "Perhaps you may.”

And Ernest never forgot the story that his mother told him. It was always in his mind, whenever he looked upon the Great Stone 10 Face. He spent his childhood in the log-cottage where he was

born, and was dutiful to his mother, and helpful to her in many things, assisting her much with his little hands, and more with his loving heart. In this manner, from a happy, yet often pensive

child, he grew up to be a mild, quiet, unobtrusive boy, and sun15 browned with labor in the fields, but with more intelligence bright

ening his aspect than is seen in many lads who have been taught at famous schools. Yet Ernest had had no teacher, save only that the Great Stone Face became one to him. When the toil of the

day was over, he would gaze at it for hours, until he began to im20 agine that those vast features recognized him, and gave him a smile

of kindness and encouragement, responsive to his own look of veneration. We must not take upon us to affirm that this was a mistake, although the Face may have looked no more kindly at

Ernest than at all the world besides. But the secret was, that 25 the boy's tender and confiding simplicity discerned what other

people could not see; and thus the love, which was meant for all, became his peculiar portion.

About this time there went a rumor throughout the valley that the great man, foretold from ages long ago, who was to bear a 30 resemblance to the Great Stone Face had appeared at last. It

seems that, many years before, a young man had migrated from the valley and settled at a distant seaport, where, after getting together a little money, he had set up as a shopkeeper. His name

but I could never learn whether it was his real one, or a nick35 name that had grown out of his habits and success in life

Gathergold. Being shrewd and active, and endowed by Providence with that inscrutable faculty which develops itself in what the world calls luck, he became an exceedingly rich merchant,

and owner of a whole fleet of bulky-bottomed ships. All the 40 countries of the globe appeared to join hands for the mere purpose

of adding heap after heap to the mountainous accumulation of this one man's wealth. The cold regions of the north, almost



within the gloom and shadow of the Arctic Circle, sent him their tribute in the shape of furs; hot Africa sifted for him the golden sands of her rivers, and gathered up the ivory tusks of her great elephants out of the forests; the East came bringing him the rich 5 shawls, and spices, and teas, and the effulgence of diamonds, and the gleaming purity of large pearls. The ocean, not to be behindhand with the earth, yielded up her mighty whales, that Mr. Gathergold might sell their oil, and make a profit on it. Be the

original commodity what it might, it was gold within his grasp. 10 It might be said of him, as of Midas in the fable, that whatever he

touched with his finger immediately glistened, and grew yellow, and was changed at once into sterling metal, or, which suited him still better, into piles of coin. And when Mr. Gathergold had be

come so very rich that it would have taken him a hundred years 15 only to count his wealth, he bethought himself of his native valley,

and resolved to go back thither, and end his days where he was born. With this purpose in view, he sent a skilful architect to build him such a palace as should be fit for a man of his vast wealth to live in.

As I have said above, it had already been rumored in the valley that Mr. Gathergold had turned out to be the prophetic personage so long and vainly looked for, and that his visage was the perfect and undeniable similitude of the Great Stone Face. People were

the more ready to believe that this must needs be the fact, when 25 they beheld the splendid edifice that rose, as if by enchant

ment, on the site of his father's old weather-beaten farm-house. The exterior was of marble, so dazzlingly white that it seemed as though the whole structure might melt away in the sunshine, like

those humbler ones which Mr. Gathergold, in his young play-days, 30 before his fingers were gifted with the touch of transmutation,

had been accustomed to build of snow. It had a richly ornamented portico, supported by tall pillars, beneath which was a lofty door, studded with silver knobs, and made of a kind of variegated wood

that had been brought from beyond the sea. The windows, from 35 the floor to the ceiling of each stately apartment, were composed,

respectively, of but one enormous pane of glass, so transparently pure that it was said to be a finer medium than even the vacant atmosphere. Hardly anybody had been permitted to see the

interior of this palace; but it was reported, and with good sem40 blance of truth, to be far more gorgeous than the outside, insomuch

that whatever was iron or brass in other houses was silver or gold in this; and Mr. Gathergold's bedchamber, especially, made such a glittering appearance that no ordinary man would have been able to close his eyes there. But, on the other hand, Mr. Gathergold was now so inured to wealth, that perhaps he could not have closed his eyes unless where the gleam of it was certain to 5 find its way beneath his eyelids.

'In due time the mansion was finished; next came the upholsterers, with magnificent furniture; then a whole troop of black and white servants, the harbingers of Mr. Gathergold, who, in his

own majestic person, was expected to arrive at sunset. Our friend 10 Ernest, meanwhile, had been deeply stirred by the idea that the

great man, the noble man, the man of prophecy, after so many ages of delay, was at length to be made manifest to his native valley. He knew, boy as he was, that there were a thousand ways

in which Mr. Gathergold, with his vast wealth, might transform 15 himself into an angel of beneficence, and assume a control over

human affairs as wide and benignant as the smile of the Great Stone Face. Full of faith and hope, Ernest doubted not that what the people said was true, and that now he was to behold the living

likeness of those wondrous features on the mountain-side. While 20 the boy was still gazing up the valley, and fancying, as he always

did, that the Great Stone Face returned his gaze and looked kindly at him, the rumbling of wheels was heard, approaching swiftly along the winding road.

“Here he comes!” cried a group of people who were assembled 25 to witness the arrival. “Here comes the great Mr. Gathergold!”

A carriage, drawn by four horses, dashed round the turn of the road. Within it, thrust partly out of the window, appeared the physiognomy of a little old man, with a skin as yellow as if

his own Midas-hand had transmuted it. He had a low forehead, 30 small, sharp eyes, puckered about with innumerable wrinkles, and

very thin lips, which he made still thinner by pressing them forcibly together.

"The very image of the Great Stone Face!" shouted the people. “Sure enough, the old prophecy is true; and here we have the 35 great man, come at last!”

And, what greatly perplexed Ernest, they seemed actually to believe that here was the likeness which they spoke of. By the roadside there chanced to be an old beggar-woman and two little

beggar-children, stragglers from some far-off region, who, as the 40 carriage rolled onward, held out their hands and lifted up their

doleful voices, most piteously beseeching charity. A yellow claw - the very same that had clawed together so much wealth

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