Neither did Ernest know that the thoughts and affections which came tohim so naturally, in the fields and at the fireside, and wherever hecommuned with himself, were of a higher tone than those which allmen shared with him. A simple soul- simple as when his mother firsttaught him the old prophecy- he beheld the marvellous features beamingadown the valley, and still wondered that their human counterpartwas so long in making his appearance.
By this time poor Mr. Gathergold was dead and buried; and theoddest part of the matter was, that his wealth, which was the body andspirit of his existence, had disappeared before his death, leavingnothing of him but a living skeleton, covered over with a wrinkled,yellow skin. Since the melting away of his gold, it had been verygenerally conceded that there was no such striking resemblance,after all, betwixt the ignoble features of the ruined merchant andthat majestic face upon the mountain-side. So the people ceased tohonor him during his lifetime, and quietly consigned him toforgetfulness after his decease. Once in a while, it is true, hismemory was brought up in connection with the magnificent palacewhich he had built, and which had long ago been turned into a hotelfor the accommodation of strangers, multitudes of whom came, everysummer, to visit that famous natural curiosity, the Great StoneFace. Thus, Mr. Gathergold being discredited and thrown into theshade, the man of prophecy was yet to come.
It so happened that a native-born son of the valley, many yearsbefore, had enlisted as a soldier, and, after a great deal of hardfighting, had now become an illustrious commander. Whatever he maybe called in history, he was known in camps and on the battle-fieldunder the nickname of Old Blood-and-Thunder. This war-worn veteran,being now infirm with age and wounds, and weary of the turmoil of amilitary life, and of the roll of the drum and the clangor of thetrumpet, that had so long been ringing in his ears, had latelysignified a purpose of returning to his native valley, hoping tofind repose where he remembered to have left it. The inhabitants,his old neighbors and their grown-up children, were resolved towelcome the renowned warrior with a salute of cannon and a publicdinner; and all the more enthusiastically, it being affirmed that now,at last, the likeness of the Great Stone Face had actually appeared.
An aid-de-camp of Old Blood-and-Thunder, travelling through thevalley, was said to have been struck with the resemblance. Moreover,the schoolmates and early acquaintances of the general were ready totestify, on oath, that, to the best of their recollection, theaforesaid general had been exceedingly like the majestic image, evenwhen a boy, only that the idea had never occurred to them at thatperiod. Great, therefore, was the excitement throughout the valley;and many people, who had never once thought of glancing at the GreatStone Face for years before, now spent their time in gazing at it, forthe sake of knowing exactly how General Blood-and-Thunder looked.
On the day of the great festival, Ernest, with all the other peopleof the valley, left their work, and proceeded to the spot where thesylvan banquet was prepared. As he approached, the loud voice of theReverend Doctor Battleblast was heard, beseeching a blessing on thegood things set before them, and on the distinguished friend ofpeace in whose honor they were assembled. The tables were arrangedin a cleared space of the woods, shut in by the surrounding trees,except where a vista opened eastward, and afforded a distant view ofthe Great Stone Face. Over the general's chair, which was a relic fromthe home of Washington, there was an arch of verdant boughs, withthe laurel profusely intermixed, and surmounted by his country'sbanner, beneath which he had won his victories. Our friend Ernestraised himself on his tip-toes, in hopes to get a glimpse of thecelebrated guest; but there was a mighty crowd about the tablesanxious to hear the toasts and speeches, and to catch any word thatmight fall from the general in reply; and a volunteer company, doingduty as a guard, pricked ruthlessly with their bayonets at anyparticularly quiet person among the throng. So Ernest, being of anunobtrusive character, was thrust quite into the background, wherehe could see no more of Old Blood-and-Thunder's physiognomy than if ithad been still blazing on the battle-field. To console himself, heturned towards the Great Stone Face, which, like a faithful andlong-remembered friend, looked back and smiled upon him through thevista of the forest. Meantime, however, he could over-hear the remarksof various individuals, who were comparing the features of the herowith the face on the distant mountain-side.
" 'Tis the same face, to a hair!" cried one man, cutting a caperfor joy.
"Wonderfully like, that's a fact!" responded another.
"Like! why, I call it Old Blood-and-Thunder himself, in a monstrouslooking-glass!" cried a third. "And why not! He's the greatest manof this or any other age, beyond a doubt."And then all three of the speakers gave a great shout, whichcommunicated electricity to the crowd, and called forth a roar froma thousand voices, that went reverberating for miles among themountains, until you might have supposed that the Great Stone Face hadpoured its thunder-breath into the cry. All these comments, and thisvast enthusiasm, served the more to interest our friend; nor did hethink of questioning that now, at length, the mountain-visage hadfound its human counterpart. It is true, Ernest had imagined that thislong-looked-for personage would appear in the character of a man ofpeace, uttering wisdom, and doing good, and making people happy.
