Again，andstillmoreearnestlythanbefore，Ernestexaminedthe
poet’sfeatures；thenturnedtowardstheGreatStoneFace；then
back，withanuncertainaspect，tohisguest。Buthiscountenance
fell；heshookhishead，andsighed。
“Whereforeareyousad？”inquiredthepoet。
“Because，repliedErnest，“allthroughlifeIhaveawaitedthe
fulfilmentofaprophecy；and，whenIreadthesepoems，Ihopedthat
itmightbefulfilledinyou。”
“Youhoped。”answeredthepoet，faintlysmiling，“tofindinmethe
likenessoftheGreatStoneFace。Andyouaredisappointed，as
formerlywithMr。Gathergold，andOldBlood-and-Thunder，andOldStony
Phiz。Yes，Ernest，itismydoom。Youmustaddmynametothe
illustriousthree，andrecordanotherfailureofyourhopes。For-in
shameandsadnessdoIspeakit，Ernest-Iamnotworthytobe
typifiedbyyonderbenignandmajesticimage。”
“Andwhy？”askedErnest。Hepointedtothevolume-“Arenotthose
thoughtsdivine？”
“TheyhaveastrainoftheDivinity。”repliedthepoet。“Youcan
hearinthemthefar-offechoofaheavenlysong。Butmylife，dear
Ernest，hasnotcorrespondedwithmythought。Ihavehadgranddreams，
buttheyhavebeenonlydreams，becauseIhavelived-andthat，too，
byownchoice-amongpoorandmeanrealities。Sometimeseven-shall
Idaretosayit？-Ilackfaithinthegrandeur，thebeauty，andthe
goodness，whichmyownworksaresaidtohavemademoreevidentin
natureandinhumanlife。Why，then，pureseekerofthegoodandtrue，
shouldstthouhopetofindme，inyonderimageofthedivine！”
Thepoetspokesadly，andhiseyesweredimwithtears。So，
likewise，werethoseofErnest。
Atthehourofsunset，ashadlongbeenhisfrequentcustom，Ernest
wastodiscoursetoanassemblageoftheneighboringinhabitants，in
theopenair。Heandthepoet，arminarm，stilltalkingtogetheras
theywentalong，proceededtothespot。Itwasasmallnookamong
thehills，withagrayprecipicebehind，thesternfrontofwhich
wasrelievedbythepleasantfoliageofmanycreepingplants，that
madeatapestryforthenakedrock，byhangingtheirfestoonsfromall
itsruggedangles。Atasmallelevationabovetheground，setina
richframe-workofverdure，thereappearedaniche，spaciousenoughto
admitahumanfigure，withfreedomforsuchgesturesas
spontaneouslyaccompanyearnestthoughtandgenuineemotion。Intothis
naturalpulpitErnestascended，andthrewalookoffamiliar
kindnessarounduponhisaudience。Theystood，orsat，orreclined
uponthegrass，asseemedgoodtoeach，withthedepartingsunshine
fallingobliquelyoverthem，andminglingitssubduedcheerfulness
withthesolemnityofagroveofancienttrees，beneathandamidthe
boughsofwhichthegoldenrayswereconstrainedtopass。Inanother
directionwasseentheGreatStoneFace，withthesamecheer，combined
withthesamesolemnity，initsbenignantaspect。
Ernestbegantospeak，givingtothepeopleofwhatwasinhis
heartandmind。Hiswordshadpower，becausetheyaccordedwithhis
thoughts；andhisthoughtshadrealityanddepth，becausethey
harmonizedwiththelifewhichhehadalwayslived。Itwasnotmere
breaththatthispreacheruttered；theywerethewordsoflife，
becausealifeofgooddeedsandholylovewasmeltedintothem。
Pearls，pureandrich，hadbeendissolvedintothisprecious
draught。Thepoet，ashelistened，feltthatthebeingandcharacter
ofErnestwereanoblerstrainofpoetrythanhehadeverwritten。His
eyesglisteningwithtears，hegazedreverentiallyatthevenerable
man，andsaidwithinhimselfthatneverwasthereanaspectso
worthyofaprophetandasageasthatmild，sweet，thoughtful
countenance，withthegloryofwhitehairdiffusedaboutit。Ata
distance，butdistinctlytobeseen，highupinthegoldenlightof
thesettingsun，appearedtheGreatStoneFace，withhoarymists
aroundit，likethewhitehairsaroundthebrowofErnest。Itslookof
grandbeneficenceseemedtoembracetheworld。
Atthatmoment，insympathywithathoughtwhichhewasaboutto
utter，thefaceofErnestassumedagrandeurofexpression，so
imbuedwithbenevolence，thatthepoet，byanirresistibleimpulse，
threwhisarmsaloft，andshouted，“Behold！Behold！Ernestis
himselfthelikenessoftheGreatStoneFace！”
Thenallthepeoplelooked，andsawthatwhatthedeep-sightedpoet
saidwastrue。Theprophecywasfulfilled。ButErnest，havingfinished
whathehadtosay，tookthepoet’sarm，andwalkedslowlyhomeward，
stillhopingthatsomewiserandbettermanthanhimselfwouldby
andbyappear，bearingaresemblancetotheGREATSTONEFACE。
byNathanielHawthorne
INTHOSESTRANGEOLDTIMES，whenfantasticdreamsandmadmen’s
reverieswererealizedamongtheactualcircumstancesoflife，two
personsmettogetheratanappointedhourandplace。Onewasalady，
gracefulinformandfairoffeature，thoughpaleandtroubled，and
smittenwithanuntimelyblightinwhatshouldhavebeenthefullest
bloomofheryears；theotherwasanancientandmeanly-dressedwoman，
ofill-favoredaspect，andsowithered，shrunken，anddecrepit，that
eventhespacesinceshebegantodecaymusthaveexceededthe
ordinarytermofhumanexistence。Inthespotwherethey
encountered，nomortalcouldobservethem。Threelittlehillsstood
neareachother，anddowninthemidstofthemsunkahollowbasin，
almostmathematicallycircular，twoorthreehundredfeetin
breadth，andofsuchdepththatastatelycedarmightbutjustbe
visibleabovethesides。Dwarfpineswerenumerousuponthehills，and
partlyfringedtheoutervergeoftheintermediatehollow，within
whichtherewasnothingbutthebrowngrassofOctober，andhereand
thereatreetrunkthathadfallenlongago，andlaymoulderingwith
nogreensuccessorfromitsroots。Oneofthesemassesofdecaying
wood，formerlyamajesticoak，restedclosebesideapoolofgreenand
sluggishwateratthebottomofthebasin。Suchscenesasthisso
graytraditiontellswereoncetheresortofthePowerofEviland
hisplightedsubjects；andhere，atmidnightoronthedimvergeof
evening，theyweresaidtostandroundthemantlingpool，disturbing
itsputridwatersintheperformanceofanimpiousbaptismalrite。The
chillbeautyofanautumnalsunsetwasnowgildingthethree
hill-tops，whenceapalertintstoledowntheirsidesintothehollow。
“Hereisourpleasantmeetingcometopass。”saidtheagedcrone，
“accordingasthouhastdesired。Sayquicklywhatthouwouldsthaveof
me，forthereisbutashorthourthatwemaytarryhere。”
Astheoldwitheredwomanspoke，asmileglimmeredonher
countenance，likelamplightonthewallofasepulchre。Thelady
trembled，andcasthereyesupwardtothevergeofthebasin，asif
meditatingtoreturnwithherpurposeunaccomplished。Butitwasnot
soordained。
“Iamastrangerinthisland，asyouknow。”saidsheatlength。
“WhenceIcomeitmattersnot；butIhaveleftthosebehindmewith
whommyfatewasintimatelybound，andfromwhomIamcutoffforever。
ThereisaweightinmybosomthatIcannotawaywith，andIhavecome
hithertoinquireoftheirwelfare。”
“Andwhoistherebythisgreenpoolthatcanbringtheenews
fromtheendsoftheearth？”criedtheoldwoman，peeringintothe
lady’sface。“Notfrommylipsmaystthouhearthesetidings；yet，
bethoubold，andthedaylightshallnotpassawayfromyonder
hill-topbeforethywishbegranted。”
“IwilldoyourbiddingthoughIdie。”repliedthelady
desperately。
Theoldwomanseatedherselfonthetrunkofthefallentree，threw
asidethehoodthatshroudedhergraylocks，andbeckonedher
companiontodrawnear。
“Kneeldown。”shesaid，andlayyourforeheadonmyknees。”
Shehesitatedamoment，buttheanxietythathadlongbeenkindling
burnedfiercelyupwithinher。Asshekneltdown，theborderofher
garmentwasdippedintothepool；shelaidherforeheadontheold
woman’sknees，andthelatterdrewacloakaboutthelady’sface，so
thatshewasindarkness。Thensheheardthemutteredwordsofprayer，
inthemidstofwhichshestarted，andwouldhavearisen。
“Letmeflee-letmefleeandhidemyself，thattheymaynotlook
uponme！”shecried。But，withreturningrecollection，shehushed
herself，andwasstillasdeath。
Foritseemedasifothervoices-familiarininfancy，and
unforgottenthroughmanywanderings，andinallthevicissitudesof
herheartandfortune-wereminglingwiththeaccentsoftheprayer。
Atfirstthewordswerefaintandindistinct，notrenderedsoby
distance，butratherresemblingthedimpagesofabookwhichwe
strivetoreadbyanimperfectandgraduallybrighteninglight。In
suchamanner，astheprayerproceeded，didthosevoicesstrengthen
upontheear；tillatlengththepetitionended，andthe
conversationofanagedman，andofawomanbrokenanddecayedlike
himself，becamedistinctlyaudibletotheladyassheknelt。Butthose
strangersappearednottostandinthehollowdepthbetweenthe
threehills。Theirvoiceswereencompassedandreechoedbythewalls
ofachamber，thewindowsofwhichwererattlinginthebreeze；the
regularvibrationofaclock，thecracklingofafire，andthe
tinklingoftheembersastheyfellamongtheashes，renderedthe
scenealmostasvividasifpaintedtotheeye。Byamelancholyhearth
satthesetwooldpeople，themancalmlydespondent，thewoman
querulousandtearfullandtheirwordswereallofsorrow。They
spokeofadaughter，awanderertheyknewnotwhere，bearing
dishonoralongwithher，andleavingshameandafflictiontobring
theirgrayheadstothegrave。Theyalludedalsotootherandmore
recentwo，butinthemidstoftheirtalktheirvoicesseemedto
meltintothesoundofthewindsweepingmournfullyamongtheautumn
leaves；andwhentheladyliftedhereyes，therewasshekneelingin
thehollowbetweenthreehills。
“Awearyandlonesometimeyonderoldcouplehaveofit。”remarked
theoldwoman，smilinginthelady’sface。
“Anddidyoualsohearthem？”exclaimedshe，asenseofintolerable
humiliationtriumphingoverheragonyandfear。
“Yea；andwehaveyetmoretohear。”repliedtheoldwoman。
“Wherefore，coverthyfacequickly。”
Againthewitheredhagpouredforththemonotonouswordsofa
prayerthatwasnotmeanttobeacceptableinheaven；andsoon，inthe
pausesofherbreath，strangemurmuringsbegantothicken，gradually
increasingsoastodrownandoverpowerthecharmbywhichthey
grew。Shriekspiercedthroughtheobscurityofsound，andwere
succeededbythesingingofsweetfemalevoices，which，intheirturn，
gavewaytoawildroaroflaughter，brokensuddenlybygroanings
andsobs，formingaltogetheraghastlyconfusionofterrorand
mourningandmirth。Chainswererattling，fierceandsternvoices
utteredthreats，andthescourgeresoundedattheircommand。Allthese
noisesdeepenedandbecamesubstantialtothelistener’sear，tillshe
coulddistinguisheverysoftanddreamyaccentofthelovesongs
thatdiedcauselesslyintofuneralhymns。Sheshudderedatthe
unprovokedwrathwhichblazeduplikethespontaneouskindlingof
flame，andshegrewfaintatthefearfulmerrimentragingmiserably
aroundher。Inthemidstofthiswildscene，whereunboundpassions
jostledeachotherinadrunkencareer，therewasonesolemnvoice
ofaman，andamanlyandmelodiousvoiceitmightoncehavebeen。
Hewenttoandfrocontinually，andhisfeetsoundeduponthefloor。
Ineachmemberofthatfrenziedcompany，whoseownburningthoughts
hadbecometheirexclusiveworld，hesoughtanauditorforthestory
ofhisindividualwrong，andinterpretedtheirlaughterandtearsas
hisrewardofscornorpity。Hespokeofwoman’sperfidy，ofawife
whohadbrokenherholiestvows，ofahomeandheartmadedesolate。
Evenashewenton，theshout，thelaugh，theshriek，thesob，roseup
inunison，tilltheychangedintothehollow，fitful，andunevensound
ofthewind，asitfoughtamongthepine-treesonthosethreelonely
hills。Theladylookedup，andtherewasthewitheredwomansmilingin
herface。