The Great Stone Face: And Other Tales of the White Mountains

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Houghton Mifflin, 1889 - Cannon Mountain (N.H.) - 69 pages
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Page 24 - Behold ! behold ! Ernest is himself the likeness of the Great Stone Face !" Then all the people looked and saw that what the deepsighted poet said was true. The prophecy was fulfilled. But Ernest, having finished what he had to say, took the poet's arm and walked slowly homeward, still hoping that some wiser and better man than himself would by and by appear bearing a resemblance to the GREAT STONE FACE.
Page ii - O mother, dear mother!" cried Ernest, clapping his hands above his head, "I do hope that I shall live to see him!" His mother 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.
Page 15 - We must not forget to mention that there was a band of music, which made the echoes of the mountains ring and reverberate with the loud triumph of its strains ; so that airy and soul-thrilling melodies broke out among all the heights and hollows, as if every nook of his native valley had found a voice, to welcome the distinguished guest. But the grandest effect was when the far-off mountain precipice flung back the music ; for then the Great Stone Face itself seemed to be swelling the triumphant...
Page 16 - Then so much the worse for the Great Stone Face ! " answered his neighbor ; and again he set up a shout for Old Stony Phiz. But Ernest turned away, melancholy, and almost...
Page vi - ... 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 become so very rich that it would have taken him a hundred years 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...
Page 24 - The poet, as he listened, felt that the being and character of Ernest were a nobler strain of poetry than he had ever written. His eyes glistening with tears, he gazed reverentially at the venerable man, and said within himself that never was there an aspect so worthy of a prophet and a sage as that mild, sweet, thoughtful countenance, with the glory of white hair diffused about it. At a distance, but distinctly to be seen, high up in the golden light of the setting sun, appeared the Great Stone...

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