It so happened that a native-born son of the valley, many years before,
had enlisted as a soldier, and, after a great deal of hard fighting, had
now become an illustrious commander. Whatever he may be called in
history, he was known in camps and on the battlefield under the nickname
of Old Blood-and-Thunder. This war-worn veteran, being now weary of a
military life, and of the roll of the drum and the clangor of the
trumpet that had so long been ringing in his ears, had lately signified
a purpose of returning to his native valley, hoping to find repose where
he remembered to have left it. The inhabitants, his old neighbors and
their grown-up children, were resolved to welcome the [v]renowned
warrior with a salute of cannon and a public dinner; and all the more
enthusiastically because it was believed that at last the likeness of
the Great Stone Face had actually appeared. A friend of Old
Blood-and-Thunder, traveling through the valley, was said to have been
struck with the resemblance. Moreover, the schoolmates and early
acquaintances of the general were ready to testify, on oath, that, to
the best of their recollection, the general had been exceedingly like
the majestic image, even when a boy, only that the idea had never
occurred to them at that period. Great, therefore, was the excitement
throughout the valley; and many people, who had never once thought of
glancing at the Great Stone Face for years before, now spent their time
in gazing at it, for the sake of knowing exactly how General
Blood-and-Thunder looked.
On the day of the great festival, Ernest, and all the other people of
the valley, left their work and proceeded to the spot where the banquet
was prepared. As he approached, the loud voice of the Rev. Dr.
Battleblast was heard, beseeching a blessing on the good things set
before them, and on the distinguished friend of peace in whose honor
they were assembled. The tables were arranged in a cleared space of the
woods, shut in by the surrounding trees, except where a vista opened
eastward, and afforded a distant view of the Great Stone Face. Over the
general's chair, which was a relic from the home of Washington, there
was an arch of green boughs and laurel surmounted by his country's
banner, beneath which he had won his victories. Our friend Ernest
raised himself on his tiptoes, in hopes to get a glimpse of the
celebrated guest; but there was a mighty crowd about the tables anxious
to hear the toasts and speeches, and to catch any word that might fall
from the general in reply; and a volunteer company, doing duty as a
guard, pricked with their bayonets at any particularly quiet person
among the throng. So Ernest, being of a modest character, was thrust
quite into the background, where he could see no more of Old
Blood-and-Thunder's face than if it had been still blazing on the
battlefield. To console himself he turned toward the Great Stone Face,
which, like a faithful and long-remembered friend, looked back and
smiled upon him through the forest. Meantime, however, he could overhear
the remarks of various individuals who were comparing the features of
the hero with the face on the distant mountain side.
"'Tis the same face, to a hair!" cried one man, cutting a caper for joy.
"Wonderfully like, that's a fact!" responded another.
"Like! Why, I call it Old Blood-and-Thunder himself, in a monstrous
looking-glass!" cried a third. "And why not? He's the greatest man of
this or any other age, beyond a doubt."
"The general! The general!" was now the cry. "Hush! Silence! Old
Blood-and-Thunder's going to make a speech."
Even so; for, the cloth being removed, the general's health had been
drunk amid shouts of applause, and he now stood upon his feet to thank
the company. Ernest saw him. There he was, over the shoulders of the
crowd, from the two glittering epaulets and embroidered collar upward,
beneath the arch of green boughs with intertwined laurel, and the banner
drooping as if to shade his brow! And there, too, visible in the same
glance, appeared the Great Stone Face! And was there, indeed, such a
resemblance as the crowd had testified? Alas, Ernest could not recognize
it! He beheld a war-worn and weather-beaten countenance, full of energy,
and expressive of an iron will; but the gentle wisdom, the deep, broad,
tender sympathies were altogether wanting in Old Blood-and-Thunder's
visage.
"This is not the man of prophecy," sighed Ernest to himself, as he made
his way out of the throng. "And must the world wait longer yet?"
The mists had gathered about the distant mountain side, and there were
seen the grand and awful features of the Great Stone Face, awful but
benignant, as if a mighty angel were sitting among the hills and
enrobing himself in a cloud vesture of gold and purple. As he looked,
Ernest could hardly believe but that a smile beamed over the whole
visage, with a radiance still brightening, although without motion of
the lips. It was probably the effect of the western sunshine, melting
the thin vapors that had swept between him and the object that he had
gazed at. But--as it always did--the aspect of his marvelous friend made
Ernest as hopeful as if he had never hoped in vain.
"Fear not, Ernest," said his heart, even as if the Great Face were
whispering him--"fear not, Ernest."