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The Great Stone Face And Other Tales Of The White Mountains ................................................................1

Nathaniel Hawthorne...............................................................................................................................1

INTRODUCTION...................................................................................................................................1

THE GREAT STONE FACE..................................................................................................................1

THE AMBITIOUS GUEST ...................................................................................................................12

THE GREAT CARBUNCLE: A MYSTERY OF THE WHITE MOUNTAINS.................................16

SKETCHES FROM MEMORY ............................................................................................................24

THE first three numbers in this collection are tales of the White Hills in New Hampshire. The passages from

Sketches from Memory show that Hawthorne had visited the mountains in one of his occasional rambles

from home, but there are no entries in his Note Books which give accounts of such a visit. There is, however,

among these notes the following interesting paragraph, written in 1840 and clearly foreshadowing The Great

'The semblance of a human face to be formed on the side of a mountain, or in the fracture of a small stone, by

a lusus naturae [freak of nature]. The face is an object of curiosity for years or centuries, and by and by a boy

is born whose features gradually assume the aspect of that portrait. At some critical juncture the resemblance

It is not impossible that this conceit occurred to Hawthorne before he had himself seen the Old Man of the

Mountain, or the Profile, in the Franconia Notch which is generally associated in the minds of readers with

In The Ambitious Guest he has made use of the incident still told to travellers through the Notch, of the

destruction of the Willey family in August, 1826. The house occupied by the family was on the slope of a

mountain, and after a long drought there was a terrible tempest which not only raised the river to a great

height but loosened the surface of the mountain so that a great landslide took place. The house was in the

track of the slide, and the family rushed out of doors. Had they remained within they would have been safe,

for a ledge above the house parted the avalanche so that it was diverted into two paths and swept past the

house on either side. Mr. and Mrs. Willey, their five children, and two hired men were crushed under the

In the Sketches from Memory Hawthorne gives an intimation of the tale which he might write and did

afterward write of The Great Carbuncle. The paper is interesting as showing what were the actual experiences

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 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 con tained many thousand

inhabitants. Some of these good people dwelt in loghuts, with the black forest all around them, on the steep

and difficult hillsides. Others had their homes in comfortable farm houses, 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 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 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 majestie playfulness, formed on the

perpendicular side of a mountain by some immense rocks, which had been thrown together in such a position

as, when viewed at a proper distance, 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 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. Retracing his steps, however,

the wondrous features would again be seen; and the farther 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 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

As we began with saying, a mother and her little boy sat at their cottagedoor, gazing at the Great Stone

'Mother,' said he, while the Titanic visage miled on him, 'I wish that it could speak, for it looks so very kindly

that its voice 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 for other, with

exactly such a face as that.' '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,

nevertheless, so very old, that even the Indians, who formerly inhabited 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 treetops. The purport was, that, at some future day, a child should be born hereabouts, who

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 oldfashioned people, and young ones

likewise, in the ardor of their hopes, still cherished an enduring faith in this old prophecy. But others, 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, concluded 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 that I shall live to see

His mother was an affectionate and thoughtful woman, and felt that it was wisest not to discourage the

And Ernest never forgot the story that his mother told him. It was always in his mind, whenever he looked

upon the Great Stone Face. He spent his childhood in the logcottage 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 sunbrowned with labor in the fields, but with more intelligence brightening 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 imagine 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 the boy's tender and confiding simplicity discerned what other people could not see; and thus

About this time there went a rumor throughout the valley, that the great man, foretold from ages long ago,

who was to bear a 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 nickname that had grown out of his habits and success in lifewas 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

bulkybottomed ships. All the 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 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. 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 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 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 they beheld the splendid edifice that rose, as if by enchantment, on the site of his father's old

weatherbeaten farmhouse. 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 playdays, 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 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 semblance 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

In due time, the mansion was finished; next came the upholsterers, with magnificent furniture; then, a whole

troop of black and white servants, the haringers of Mr. Gathergold, who, in his own majestic person, was

expected to arrive at sunset. Our friend 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 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 mountainside. While 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

'Here he comes!' cried a group of people who were assembled to witness the arrival. 'Here comes the great

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 the old man, with a skin as yellow as if his own Midashand had

transmuted it. He had a low forehead, small, sharp eyes, puckered about with innumerable wrinkles, and very

The very image or the Great Stone Face!' shouted the people. 'Sure enough, the old prophecy is true; and here

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 beggarchildren, stragglers

from some faroff region, who, as the 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 dawed together so much

wealth poked itself out of the coach window, and dropt some copper coins upon the ground; so that,

though the great man's name seems to have been Gathergold, he might just as suitably have been nicknamed

Scattercopper. Still, nevertheless, with an earnest shout, and evidently with as much good faith as ever, the

people bellowed 'He is the very image of the Great Stone Face!' But Ernest turned sadly from the wrinkled

shrewdness of that sordid visage, and gazed up the valley, where, amid a gathering mist, gilded by the last

sunbeams, he could still distinguish those glorious features which had impressed themselves into his soul.

The years went on, and Ernest ceased to be a boy. He had grown to be a young man now. He attracted little

notice from the other inhabitants of the valley; for they saw nothing remarkable in his way of life, save that,

when the labor of the day was over, he still loved to go apart and gaze and meditate upon the Great Stone

Face. According to their idea of the matter, it was a folly, indeed, but pardonable, inasmuch as Ernest was

industrious, kind, and neighborly, and neglected no duty for the sake of indulging this idle habit. They knew

not that the Great Stone Face had become a teacher to him, and that the sentiment which was expressed in it

would enlarge the young man's heart, and fill it with wider and deeper sympathies than other hearts. They

knew not that thence would come a better wisdom than could be learned from books, and a better life than

could be moulded on the defaced example of other human lives. Neither did Ernest know that the thoughts

and affections which came to him so naturally, in the fields and at the fireside, and wherever he communed

with himself, were of a higher tone than those which all men shared with him. A simple soul simple as

when his mother first taught him the old prophecy he beheld the marvellous features beaming adown the

valley, and still wondered that their human counterpart was so long in making his appearance.

By this time poor Mr. Gathergold was dead and buried; and the oddest part of the matter was, that his wealth,

which was the body and spirit of his existence, had disappeared before his death, leaving nothing of him but a

living skeleton, covered over with a wrinkled, yellow skin. Since the melting away of his gold, it had been

very generally conceded that there was no such striking resemblance, after all, betwixt the ignoble features of

the ruined merchant and that majestic face upon the mountainside. So the people ceased to honor him during

his lifetime, and quietly consigned him to forgetfulness after his decease. Once in a while, it is true, his

memory was brought up in connection with the magnificent palace which he had built, and which had long

ago been turned into a hotel for the accommodation of strangers, multitudes of whom came, every summer, to

visit that famous natural curiosity, the Great Stone Face. Thus, Mr. Gathergold being discredited and thrown

It so happened that a nativeborn 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 BloodandThunder. This war

worn veteran, being now infirm with age and wounds, and weary of the turmoil 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 grownup children, were resolved to welcome the renowned warrior

with a salute of cannon and a public dinner; and all the more enthusiastically, it being affirmed that now, at

last, the likeness of the Great Stone Face had actually appeared. An aidde camp of Old

BloodandThunder, travelling 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 aforesaid 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

On the day of the great festival, Ernest, with all the other people of the valley, left their work, and proceeded

to the spot where the sylvan 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 verdant boughs, with the laurel profusely intermixed, and 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 ruthlessly with their bayonets at any particularly quiet person among the throng. So

Ernest, being of an unobtrusive character, was thrust quite into the background, where he could see no more

of Old BloodandThunder's physiognomy than if it had been still blazing on the battlefield. To console

himself, he turned towards the Great Stone Face, which, like a faithful and longremembered friend, looked

back and smiled upon him through the vista of 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

'Like! why, I call it Old BloodandThunder himself, in a monstrous lookingglass!' cried a third.

And then all three of the speakers gave a great shout, which communicated electricity to the crowd, and

called forth a roar from a thousand voices, that went reverberating for miles among the mountains, until you

might have supposed that the Great Stone Face had poured its thunderbreath into the cry. All these

comments, and this vast enthusiasm, served the more to interest our friend; nor did he think of questioning

that now, at length, the mountainvisage had found its human counterpart. It is true, Ernest had imagined that

this longlookedfor personage would appear in the character of a man of peace, uttering wisdom, and doing

good, and making people happy. But, taking an habitual breadth of view, with all his simplicity, he contended

that providence should choose its own method of blessing mankind, and could conceive that this great end

might be effected even by a warrior and a bloody sword, should inscrutable wisdom see fit to order matters

'The general! the general!' was now the cry. ' Hush! silence! Old BloodandThunder's going to make a

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, through the vista of the forest, 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

weatherbeaten countenance, full of energy, and expressive of an iron will; but the gentle wisdom, the deep,

broad, tender sympathies, were altogether wanting in Old BloodandThunder's visage; and even if the Great

Stone Face had assumed his look of stern command, the milder traits would still have tempered it.

' This is not the man of prophecy,' sighed Ernest to himself, as he made his way out of the throng. 'And must

The mists had congregated about the distant mountainside, 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 cloudvesture 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 through the thinly diffused vapors that had swept

between him and the object that he gazed at. But as it always did the aspect of his marvellous friend made

'Fear not, Ernest,' said his heart, even as if the Great Face were whispering him 'fear not, Ernest; he will

More years sped swiftly and tranquilly away. Ernest still dwelt in his native valley, and was now a man of

middle age. By imperceptible degrees, he had become known among the people. Now, as heretofore, he

labored for his bread, and was the same simplehearted man that he had always been. But he had thought and

felt so much, he had given so many of the best hours of his life to unworldly hopes for some great good to

mankind, that it seemed as though he had been talking with the angels, and had imbibed a portion of their

wisdom unawares. It was visible in the calm and wellconsidered beneficence of his daily life, the quiet

stream of which had made a wide green margin all along its course. Not a day passed by, that the world was

not the better because this man, humble as he was, had lived. He never stepped aside from his own path, yet

would always reach a blessing to his neighbor. Almost involuntarily, too, he had become a preacher. The pure

and high simplicity of his thought, which, as one of its manifestations, took shape in the good deeds that

dropped silently from his hand, flowed also forth in speech. He uttered truths that wrought upon and moulded

the lives of those who heard him. His auditors, it may be, never suspected that Ernest, their own neighbor and

familiar friend, was more than an ordinary man; least of all did Ernest himself suspect it; but, inevitably as

the murmur of a rivulet, came thoughts out of his mouth that no other human lips had spoken.

When the people's minds had had a little time to cool, they were ready enough to acknowledge their mistake

in imagining a similarity between General BloodandThunder's truculent physiognomy and the benign

visage on the mountainside. But now, again, there were reports and many paragraphs in the newspapers,

affirming that the likeness of the Great Stone Face had appeared upon the broad shoulders of a certain

eminent statesman. He, like Mr. Gathergold and old BloodandThunder, was a native of the valley, but had

left it in his early days, and taken up the trades of law and politics. Instead of the rich man's wealth and the

warrior's sword, he had but a tongue, and it was mightier than both together. So wonderfully eloquent was he,

that whatever he might choose to say, his auditors had no choice but to believe him; wrong looked like right,

and right like wrong; for when it pleased him, he could make a kind of illuminated fog with his mere breath,

and obscure the natural daylight with it. His tongue, indeed, was a magic instrument: sometimes it rumbled

like the thunder; sometimes it warbled like the sweetest music. It was the blast of war the song of peace;

and it seemed to have a heart in it, when there was no such matter. In good truth, he was a wondrous man;

and when his tongue had acquired him all other imaginable success when it had been heard in halls of state,

and in the courts of princes and potentatesafter it had made him known all over the world, even as a voice

crying from shore to shoreit finally per suaded his countrymen to select him for the Presidency. Before

this time indeed, as soon as he began to grow celebratedhis admirers had found out the resemblance

between him and the Great Stone Face; and so much were they struck by it, that throughout the country this

distinguished gentleman was known by the name of Old Stony Phiz. The phrase was considered as giving a

highly favorable aspect to his political prospects; for, as is likewise the case with the Popedom, nobody ever

While his friends were doing their best to make him President, Old Stony Phiz, as he was called, set out on a

visit to the valley where he was born. Of course, he had no other object than to shake hands with his

fellowcitizens, and neither thought nor cared about any effect which his progress through the country might

have upon the election. Magnificent preparations were made to receive the illustrious statesman; a cavalcade

of horsemen set forth to meet him at the boundary line of the State, and all the people left their business and

gathered along the wayside to see him pass. Among these was Ernest. Though more than once disappointed,

as we have seen, he had such a hopeful and confiding nature, that he was always ready to believe in whatever

He kept his heart continually open, and thus was sure to catch the blessing from on high when it should come.

So now again, as buoyantly as ever, he went forth to behold the likeness of the Great Stone Face.

The cavalcade came prancing along the road, with a great clattering of hoofs and a mighty cloud of dust,

which rose up so dense and high that the visage of the mountainside was completely hidden from Ernest's

eyes. All the great men of the neighborhood were there on horseback; militia officers, in uniform; the

member of Congress; the sheriff of the county; the editors of newspapers; and many a farmer, too, had

mounted his patient steed, with his Sunday coat upon his back. It really was a very brilliant spectacle,

especially as there were numerous banners flaunting over the cavalcade, on some of which were gorgeous

portraits of the illustrious statesman and the Great Stone Face, smiling familiarly at one another, like two

brothers. If the pictures were to be trusted, the mutual resemblance, it must be confessed, was marvellous. 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 soulthrilling 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 faroff mountain precipice flung back the music; for then the

Great Stone Face itself seemed to be swelling the triumphant chorus, in acknowledgment, that, at length, the

All this while the people were throwing up their hats and shouting, with enthusiasm so contagious that the

heart of Ernest kindled up, and he likewise threw up his hat, and shouted, as loudly as the loudest, 'Huzza for

'Here he is, now!' cried those who stood near Ernest. 'There! There! Look at Old Stony Phiz and then at the

In the midst of all this gallant array came an open barouche, drawn by four white horses; and in the barouche,

with his massive head uncovered, sat the illustrious statesman, Old Stony Phiz himself.

'Confess it,' said one of Ernest's neighbors to him, 'the Great Stone Face has met its match at last!'

Now, it must be owned that, at his first glimpse of the countenance which was bowing and smiling from the

barouche, Ernest did fancy that there was a resemblance between it and the old familiar face upon the

mountainside. The brow, with its massive depth and loftiness, and all the other features, indeed, were boldly

and strongly hewn, as if in emulation of a more than heroic, of a Titanic model. But the sublimity and

stateliness, the grand expression of a divine sympathy, that illuminated the mountain visage and etherealized

its ponderous granite substance into spirit, might here be sought in vain. Something had been originally left

out, or had departed. And therefore the marvellously gifted statesman had always a weary gloom in the deep

caverns of his eyes, as of a child that has outgrown its playthings or a man of mighty faculties and little aims,

whose life, with all its high performances, was vague and empty, because no high purpose had endowed it

Still, Ernest's neighbor was thrusting his elbow into his side, and pressing him for an answer.

'Then so much the worse for the Great Stone Face!' answered his neighbor; and again he set up a shout for

But Ernest turned away, melancholy, and almost despondent: for this was the saddest of his disappointments,

to behold a man who might have fulfilled the prophecy, and had not willed to do so. Meantime, the

cavalcade, the banners, the music, and the barouches swept past him, with the vociferous crowd in the rear,

leaving the dust to settle down, and the Great Stone Face to be revealed again, with the grandeur that it had

'Lo, here I am, Ernest!' the benign lips seemed to say. 'I have waited longer than thou, and am not yet weary.

The years hurried onward, treading in their haste on one another's heels. And now they began to bring white

hairs, and scatter them over the head of Ernest; they made reverend wrinkles across his forehead, and furrows

in his cheeks. He was an aged man. But not in vain had he grown old: more than the white hairs on his head

were the sage thoughts in his mind; his wrinkles and furrows were inscriptions that Time had graved, and in

which he had written legends of wisdom that had been tested by the tenor of a life. And Ernest had ceased to

be obscure. Unsought for, undesired, had come the fame which so many seek, and made him known in the

great world, beyond the limits of the valley in which he had dwelt so quietly. College professors, and even

the active men of cities, came from far to see and converse with Ernest; for the report had gone abroad that

this simple husbandman had ideas unlike those of other men, not gained from books, but of a higher tone a

tranquil and familiar majesty, as if he had been talking with the angels as his daily friends. Whether it were

sage, statesman, or philanthropist, Ernest received these visitors with the gentle sincerity that had

characterized him from boyhood, and spoke freely with them of whatever came uppermost, or lay deepest in

his heart or their own. While they talked together, his face would kindle, unawares, and shine upon them, as

with a mild evening light. Pensive with the fulness of such discourse, his guests took leave and went their

way; and passing up the valley, paused to look at the Great Stone Face, imagining that they had seen its

While Ernest had been growing up and growing old, a bountiful Providence had granted a new poet to this

earth. He, likewise, was a native of the valley, but had spent the greater part of his life at a distance from that

romantic region, pouring out his sweet music amid the bustle and din of cities. Often, however, did the

mountains which had been familiar to him in his childhood lift their snowy peaks into the clear atmosphere of

his poetry. Neither was the Great Stone Face forgotten, for the poet had celebrated it in an ode, which was

grand enough to have been uttered by its own majestic lips. This man of genius, we may say, had come down

from heaven with wonderful endowments. If he sang of a mountain, the eyes of all mankind beheld a

mightier grandeur reposing on its breast, or soaring to its summit, than had before been seen there. If his

theme were a lovely lake, a celestial smile had now been thrown over it, to gleam forever on its surface. If it

were the vast old sea, even the deep immensity of its dread bosom seemed to swell the higher, as if moved by

the emotions of the song. Thus the world assumed another and a better aspect from the hour that the poet

blessed it with his happy eyes. The Creator had bestowed him, as the last best touch to his own handiwork.

The effect was no less high and beautiful, when his human brethren were the subject of his verse. The man or

woman, sordid with the common dust of life, who crossed his daily path, and the little child who played in it,

were glorified if they beheld him in his mood of poetic faith. He showed the golden links of the great chain

that intertwined them with an angelic kindred; he brought out the hidden traits of a celestial birth that made

them worthy of such kin. Some, indeed, there were, who thought to show the soundness of their judg ment

by affirming that all the beauty and dignity of the natural world existed only in the poet's fancy. Let such men

speak for themselves, who undoubtedly appear to have been spawned forth by Nature with a contemptuous

bitterness; she plastered them up out of her refuse stuff, after all the swine were made. As respects all things

The songs of this poet found their way to Ernest. He read them after his customary toil, seated on the bench

before his cottagedoor, where for such a length of time he had filled his repose with thought, by gazing at

the Great Stone Face. And now as he read stanzas that caused the soul to thrill within him, he lifted his eyes

'O majestic friend,' he murmured, addressing the Great Stone Face, 'is not this man worthy to resemble thee?'

Now it happened that the poet, though he dwelt so far away, had not only heard of Ernest, but had meditated

much upon his character, until he deemed nothing so desirable as to meet this man, whose untaught wisdom

One summer morning, therefore, he took passage by the railroad, and, in the decline of the afternoon, alighted

from the cars at no great distance from Ernest's cottage. The great hotel, which had formerly been the palace

of Mr. Gathergold, was close at hand, but the poet, with his carpetbag on his arm, inquired at once where

Approaching the door, he there found the good old man, holding a volume in his hand, which alternately he

read, and then, with a finger between the leaves, looked lovingly at the Great Stone Face.

'Willingly,' answered Ernest; and then he added, smiling, 'Methinks I never saw the Great Stone Face look so

The poet sat down on"the bench beside him, and he and Ernest talked together. Often had the poet held

intercourse with the wittiest and the wisest, but never before with a man like Ernest, whose thoughts and

feelings gushed up with such a natural feeling, and who made great truths so familiar by his simple utterance

of them. Angels, as had been so often said, seemed to have wrought with him at his labor in the fields; angels

seemed to have sat with him by the fireside; and, dwelling with angels as friend with friends, he had imbibed

the sublimity of their ideas, and imbued it with the sweet and lowly charm of household words. So thought

the poet. And Ernest, on the other hand, was moved and agitated by the living images which the poet flung

out of his mind, and which peopled all the air about the cottagedoor with shapes of beauty, both gay and

pensive. The sympathies of these two men instructed them with a profounder sense than either could have

attained alone. Their minds accorded into one strain, and made delightful music which neither of them could

have claimed as all his own, nor distinguished his own share from the other's. They led one another, as it

were, into a high pavilion of their thoughts, so remote, and hitherto so dim, that they had never entered it

As Ernest listened to the poet, he imagined that the Great Stone Face was bending forward to listen too. He

Again, and still more earnestly than before, Ernest examined the poet's features; then turned towards the

Great Stone Face; then back, with an uncertain aspect, to his guest. But his countenance fell; he shook his

'Wherefore are you sad?' inquired the poet. 'Because,' replied Ernest, 'all through life I have awaited the

fulfilment of a prophecy; and, when I read these poems, I hoped that it might be fulfilled in you.'

'You hoped,' answered the poet, faintly smiling, 'to find in me the likeness of the Great Stone Face. And you

are disappointed, as formerly with Mr. Gathergold, and old BloodandThunder, and Old Stony Phiz. Yes,

You must add my name to the illustrious three, and record another failure of your hopes. For in shame and

sadness do I speak it, Ernest I am not worthy to be typified by yonder benign and majestic image.'

'And why?' asked Ernest. He pointed to the volume. 'Are not those thoughts divine?'

'They have a strain of the Divinity,' replied the poet. 'You can hear in them the faroff echo of a heavenly

song. But my life, dear Ernest, has not corresponded with my thought. I have had grand dreams, but they

have been only dreams, because I have lived and that, too, by my own choice among poor and mean

realities. Sometimes, even shall I dare to say it? I lack faith in the grandeur, the beauty, and the

goodness, which my own works are said to have made more evident in nature and in human life. Why, then,

pure seeker of the good and true, shouldst thou hope to find me, in yonder image of the divine?'

The poet spoke sadly, and his eyes were dim with tears. So, likewise, were those of Ernest.

At the hour of sunset, as had long been his frequent custom, Ernest was to discourse to an assemblage of the

neighboring inhabitants in the open air. He and the poet, arm in arm, still talking together as they went along,

proceeded to the spot. It was a small nook among the hills, with a gray precipice behind, the stern front of

which was relieved by the pleasant foliage of many creeping plants that made a tapestry for the naked rock,

by hanging their festoons from all its rugged angles. At a small elevation above the ground, set in a rich

framework of verdure, there appeared a niche, spacious enough to admit a human figure, with freedom for

such gestures as spontaneously accompany earnest thought and genuine emotion. Into this natural pulpit

Ernest ascended, and threw a look of familiar kindness around upon his audience. They stood, or sat, or

reclined upon the grass, as seemed good to each, with the departing sunshine falling obliquely over them, and

mingling its subdued cheerfulness with the solemnity of a grove of ancient trees, beneath and amid the

boughs of which the golden rays were constrained to pass. In another direction was seen the Great Stone

Face, with the same cheer, combined with the same solemnity, in its benignant aspect.

"Ernest began to speak, giving to the people of what was in his heart and mind. His words had power,

because they accorded with his thoughts; and his thoughts had reality and depth, because they harmonized

with the life which he had always lived. It was not mere breath that this preacher uttered; they were the words

of life, because a life of good deeds and holy love was melted into them. Pearls, pure and rich, had been

dissolved into this precious draught. The poet, as he listened, felt that the being and character of Ernest were

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 Face, with hoary mists around it, like the white hairs around .the brow'

At that moment, in sympathy with a thought which he was about to utter, the face of Ernest assumed a

grandeur of expression, so imbued with benevolence, that the poet, by an irresistible impulse, threw his arms

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

One September night a family had gathered round their hearth, and piled it high with the driftwood of

mountain streams, the dry cones of the pine, and the splintered ruins of great trees that had come crashing

down the precipice. Up the chimney roared the fire, and brightened the room with its broad blaze. The faces

of the father and mother had a sober gladness; the children laughed; the eldest daughter was the image of

Happiness at seventeen; and the aged grandmother who sat knitting in the warmest place, was the image of

Happiness grown old. They had found the 'herb, heart'sease,' in the bleakest spot of all New England. (This

family were situated in the Notch of the White Hills, where the wind was sharp throughout the year, and

pitilessly cold in the winter giving their cottage all its fresh inclemency before it descended on the valley of

the Saco) They dwelt in a cold spot and a dangerous one; for a mountain towered above their heads, so steep,

The daughter had just uttered some simple jest that filled them all with mirth, when the wind came through

the Notch and seemed to pause before their cottage rattling the door, with a sound of wailing and

lamentation, before it passed into the valley. For a moment it saddened them, though there was nothing

unusual in the tones. But the family were glad again when they perceived that the latch was lifted by some

traveller, whose footsteps had been unheard amid the dreary blast which heralded his approach, and wailed as

Though they dwelt {n such a solitude, these people held daily converse with the world. The romantic pass of

the Notch is a great artery, through which the lifeblood of internal commerce is continually throbbing

between Maine, on one side, and the Green Mountains and the shores of the St. Lawrence, on the other. The

stagecoach always drew up before the door of the cottage. The wayfarer, with no companion but his staff,

paused here to exchange a word, that the sense of loneliness might not utterly overcome him ere he could

pass through the cleft of the mountain, or reach the first house in the valley. And here the teamster, on his

way to Portland market, would put up for the night; and, if a bachelor, might sit an hour beyond the usual

bedtime, and steal a kiss from the mountain maid at parting. It was one of those primitive taverns where the

traveller pays only for food and lodging, but meets with a homely kindness beyond all price. When the

footsteps were heard, therefore, between the outer door and the inner one, the whole family rose up,

grandmother, children, and all, as if about to welcome some one who belonged to them, and whose fate was

The door was opened by a young man. His face at first wore the melancholy expression, almost despondency,

of one who travels a wild and bleak road, at nightfall and alone, but soon brightened up when he saw the

kindly warmth of his reception. He felt his heart spring forward to meet them all, from the old woman, who

wiped a chair with her apron, to the little child that held out its arms to him. One glance and smile placed the

stranger on a footing of innocent familiarity with the eldest daughter. 'Ah, this fire is the right thing!' cried he;

'especially when there is such a pleasant circle round it. I am quite benumbed; for the Notch is just like the

pipe of a great pair of bellows; it has blown a terrible blast in my face all the way from Bartlett.'

'Then you are going towards Vermont?' said the master of the house, as he helped to take a light knapsack off

'Yes; to Burlington, and far enough beyond,' replied he. 'I meant to have been at Ethan Crawford's tonight;

but a pedestrian lingers along such a road as this. It is no matter; for, when I saw this good fire, and all your

cheerful faces, I felt as if you had kindled it on purpose for me, and were waiting my arrival. So I shall sit

The frankhearted stranger had just drawn his chair to the fire when something like a heavy footstep was

heard without, rushing down the steep side of the mountain, as with long and rapid strides, and taking such a

leap in passing the cottage as to strike the opposite precipice. The family held their breath, because they knew

'The old mountain has thrown a stone at us, for fear we should forget him,' said the landlord, recovering

himself. 'He sometimes nods his head and threatens to come down; but we are old neighbors, and agree

together pretty well upon the whole. Besides we have a sure place of refuge hard by if he should be coming in

Let us now suppose the stranger to have finished his supper of bear's meat; and, by his natural felicity of

manner, to have placed himself on a footing of kindness with the whole family, so that they talked as freely

together as if he belonged to their mountain brood. He was of a proud, yet gentle spirit haughty and

reserved among the rich and great; but ever ready to stoop his head to the lowly cottage door, and be like a

brother or a son at the poor man's fireside. In the household of the Notch he found warmth and simplicity of

feeling, the pervading intelligence of New England, and a poetry of native growth, which they had gathered

when they little thought of it from the mountain peaks and chasms, and at the very threshold of their romantic

and dangerous abode. He had travelled far and alone; his whole life, indeed, had been a solitary path; for,

with the lofty caution of his nature, he had kept himself apart from those who might otherwise have been his

companions. The family, too, though so kind and hospitable, had that consciousness of unity among

themselves, and separation from the world at large, which, in every domestic circle, should still keep a holy

place where no stranger may intrude. But this evening a prophetic sympathy impelled the refined and

educated youth to pour out his heart before the simple mountaineers, and constrained them to answer him

with the same free confidence. And thus it should have been. Is not the kindred of a common fate a closer tie

The secret of the young man's character was a high and abstracted ambition. He could have borne to live an

undistinguished life, but not to be forgotten in the grave. Yearning desire had been transformed to hope; and

hope, long cherished, had become like certainty, that, obscurely as he journeyed now, a glory was to beam on

all his pathway though not, perhaps, while he was treading it. But when posterity should gaze back into the

gloom of what was now the present, they would trace the brightness of his footsteps, brightening as meaner

glories faded, and confess that a gifted one had passed from his cradle to his tomb with none to recognize

'As yet,' cried the stranger his cheek glowing and his eye flashing with enthusiasm 'as yet, I have done

nothing. Were I to vanish from the earth tomorrow, none would know so much of me as you: that a nameless

youth came up at nightfall from the valley of the Saco, and opened his heart to you in the evening, and passed

through the Notch by sunrise, and was seen no more. Not a soul would ask, 'Who was he? Whither did the

wanderer go?' But I cannot die till I have achieved my destiny. Then, let Death come! I shall have built my

There was a continual flow of natural emotion, gushing forth amid abstracted reverie, which enabled the

family to understand this young man's sentiments, though so foreign from their own. With quick sensibility of

'You laugh at me,' said he, taking the eldest daughter's hand, and laughing himself. 'You think my ambition as

nonsensical as if I were to freeze myself to death on the top of Mount Washington, only that people might spy

at me from the country round about. And, truly, that would be a noble pedestal for a man's statue!'

' It is better to sit here by this fire,' answered the girl, blushing, 'and be comfortable and contented, though

'I suppose,' Said her father, after a fit of musing, ' there is something natural in what the young man says; and

if my mind had been turned that way, I might have felt just the same. It is strange, wife, how his talk has set

'Perhaps they may,' observed the wife. 'Is the man thinking what he will do when he is a widower? '

'No, no!' cried he, repelling the idea with reproachful kindness. 'When I think of your death, Esther, I think of

mine, too. But I was wishing we had a good farm in Bartlett, or Bethlehem, or Littleton, or some other

township round the White Mountains; but not where they could tumble on our heads. I should want to stand

well with my neighbors and be called Squire, and sent to General Court for a term or two; for a plain, honest

man may do as much good there as a lawyer. And when I should be grown quite an old man, and you an old

woman, so as not to be long apart, I might die happy enough in my bed, and leave you all crying around me.

A slate gravestone would suit me as well as a marble one with just my name and age, and a verse of a

hymn, and something to let people know that I lived an honest man and died a Christian.'

'There now!' exclaimed the stranger; 'it is our nature to desire a monument, be it slate or marble, or a pillar of

'We're in a strange way, tonight,' said the wife, with tears in her eyes. 'They say it's a sign of something, when

They listened accordingly. The younger children had been put to bed in another room, but with an open door

between, so that they could be heard talking busily among themselves. One and all seemed to have caught the

infection from the fireside circle, and were outvying each other in wild wishes, and childish projects of what

they would do when they came to be men and women. At length a little boy, instead of addressing his

'I'll tell you what I wish, mother,' cried he. 'I want you and father and grandma'm, and all of us, and the

stranger too, to start right away, and go and take a drink out of the basin of the Flume!'

Nobody could help laughing at the child's notion of leaving a warm bed, and dragging them from a cheerful

fire, to visit the basin of the Flume a brook, which tumbles over the precipice, deep within the Notch. The

boy had hardly spoken "when a wagon rattled along the road, and stopped a moment before the door. It

appeared to contain two or three men, who were cheering their hearts with the rough chorus of a song, which

resounded, in broken notes, between the cliffs, while the singers hesitated whether to continue their journey

But the good man doubted whether they had really called him, and was unwilling to show himself too

solicitous of gain by inviting people to patronize his house. He therefore did not hurry to the door; and the

lash being soon applied, the travellers plunged into the Notch, still singing and laughing, though their music

'There, mother!' cried the boy, again. 'They'd have given us a ride to the Flume.'

Again they laughed at the child's pertinacious fancy for a night ramble. But it happened that a light cloud

passed over the daughter's spirit; she looked gravely into the fire, and drew a breath that was almost a sigh. It

forced its way, in spite of a little struggle to repress it. Then starting and blushing, she looked quickly round

the circle, as if they had caught a glimpse into her bosom. The stranger asked what she had been thinking of.

'Nothing,' answered she, with a downcast smile. 'Only I felt lonesome just then.'

'Oh, I have always had a gift of feeling what is in other people's hearts,' said he, half seriously. 'Shall I tell the

secrets of yours? For I know what to think when a young girl shivers by a warm hearth, and complains of

'They would not be a girl's feelings any longer if they could be put into words,' replied the mountain nymph,

All this was said apart. Perhaps a germ of love was springing in their hearts, so pure that it might blossom in

Paradise, since it could not be matured on earth; for women worship such gentle dignity as his; and the proud,

contemplative, yet kindly soul is oftenest captivated by simplicity like hers. But while they spoke softly, and

he was watching the happy sadness, the lightsome shadows, the shy yearnings of a maiden's nature, the wind

through the Notch took a deeper and drearier sound. It seemed, as the fanciful stranger said, like the choral

strain of the spirits of the blast, who in old Indian times had their dwelling among these mountains, and made

their heights and recesses a sacred region. There was a wail along the road, as if a funeral were passing. To

chase away the gloom, the family threw pine branches on their fire, till the dry leaves crackled and the flame

arose, discovering once again a scene of peace and humble happiness. The light hovered about them fondly,

and caressed them all. There were the little faces of the children, peeping from their bed apart, and here the

father's frame of strength, the mother's subdued and careful mien, the high browed youth, the budding girl,

and the good old grandam, still knitting in the warmest place. The aged woman looked up from her task, and,

'Old folks have their notions,' said she, 'as well as young ones. You've been wishing and planning; and letting

your heads run on one thing and another, till you've set my mind a wandering too. Now what should an old

woman wish for, when she can go but a step or two before she comes to her grave? Children, it will haunt me

Then the old woman, with an air of mystery which drew the circle closer round the fire, informed them that

she had provided her grave clothes some years before a nice linen shroud, a cap with a muslin ruff, and

everything of a finer sort than she had worn since her wedding day. But this evening an old superstition had

strangely recurred to her. It used to be said, in her younger days, that if anything were amiss with a corpse, if

only the ruff were not smooth, or the cap did not set right, the corpse in the coffin and beneath the clods

would strive to put up its cold hands and arrange it. The bare thought made her nervous.

'Now'continued the old woman, with singular earnestness, yet smiling strangely at her own folly'I want

one of you, my children when your mother is dressed and in the coffin I want one of you to hold a

lookingglass over my face. Who knows but I may take a glimpse at myself, and see whether all's right?'

'Old and young, we dream of graves and monuments,' murmured the stranger youth. 'I wonder how mariners

feel when the ship is sinking, and they, unknown and undistinguished, are to be buried together in the ocean

For a moment, the old woman's ghastly conception so engrossed the minds of her hearers that a sound abroad

in the night, rising like the roar of a blast, had grown broad, deep, and terrible, before the fated group were

conscious of it. The house and all within it trembled; the foundations of the earth seemed to be shaken, as if

this awful sound were the peal of the last trump. Young and old exchanged one wild glance, and remained an

instant, pale, affrighted, without utterance, or power to move. Then the same shriek burst simultaneously

The simplest words must intimate, but not portray, the unutterable horror of the catastrophe. The victims

rushed from their cottage, and sought refuge in what they deemed a safer spot where, in contemplation of

such an emergency, a sort of barrier had been reared. Alas! they had quitted their security, and fled right into

the pathway of destruction. Down came the whole side of the mountain, in a cataract of ruin. Just before it

reached the house, the stream broke into two branches shivered not a window there, but overwhelmed the

whole vicinity, blocked up the road, and annihilated everything in its dreadful course. Long ere the thunder of

the great Slide had ceased to roar among the mountains, the mortal agony had been endured, and the victims

The next morning, the light smoke was seen stealing from the cottage chimney up the mountain side. Within,

the fire was yet smouldering on the hearth, and the chairs in a circle round it, as if the inhabitants had but

gone forth to view the devastation of the Slide, and would shortly return, to thank Heaven for their

miraculous escape. All had left separate tokens, by which those who had known the family were made to

shed a tear for each. Who has not heard their name? (The story has been told far and wide, and Will forever

There were circumstances which led some to suppose that a stranger had been received into the cottage on

this awful night, and had shared the catastrophe of all its inmates. Others denied that there were sufficient

grounds for such a conjecture. Woe for the highsouled youth, with his dream of Earthly Immortality! His

name and person utterly unknown; his history, his way of life, his plans, a mystery never to be solved, his

death and his existence equally a doubt! Whose was the agony of that death moment?

(The Indian tradition, on which this somewhat extravagant tale is founded, is both too wild and too beautiful

to be adequately wrought up in prose. Sullivan, in his History of Maine, written since the Revolution,

remarks, that even then the existence of the Great Carbuncle was not entirely discredited.)

AT nightfall, once in the olden time, on the rugged side of one of the Crystal Hills, a party of adventurers

were refreshing themselves, after a toilsome and fruitless quest for the Great Carbuncle. They had come

thither, not as friends nor partners in the enterprise, but each, save one youthful pair, impelled by his own

selfish and solitary longing for this wondrous gem. Their feeling of brotherhood, however, was strong enough

to induce them to contribute a mutual aid in building a rude hut of branches, and kindling a great fire of

shattered pines, that had drifted down the headlong current of the Amonoosuck, on the lower bank of which

they were to pass the night. There was but one of their number, perhaps, who had become so estranged from

natural sympathies, by the absorbing spell of the pursuit, as to acknowledge no satisfaction at the sight of

human faces, in the remote and solitary region whither they had ascended. A vast extent of wilderness lay

between them and the nearest settlement, while scant a mile above their heads was that black verge where the

hills throw off their shaggy mantle of forest trees, and either robe themselves in clouds or tower naked into

the sky. The roar of the Amonoosuck would have been too awful for endurance if only a solitary man had

The adventurers, therefore, exchanged hospitable greetings, and welcomed one another to the hut, where each

man was the host, and all were the guests of the whole company. They spread their individual supplies of

food on the flat surface of a rock, and partook of a general repast; at the close of which, a sentiment of good

fellowship was perceptible among the party, though repressed by the idea, that the renewed search for the

Great Carbuncle must make them strangers again in the morning. Seven men and one young woman, they

warmed themselves together at the fire, which extended its bright wall along the whole front of their

wigwam. As they observed the various and contrasted figures that made up the assemblage, each man looking

like a caricature of himself, in the unsteady light that flickered over him, they came mutually to the

conclusion, that an odder society had never met, in city or wilderness, on mountain or plain.

The eldest of the group, a tall, lean, weatherbeaten man, some sixty years of age, was clad in the skins of

wild animals, whose fashion of dress he did well to imitate, since the deer, the wolf, and the bear, had long

been his most intimate companions. He was one of those ill fated mortals, such as the Indians told of,

whom, in their early youth, the Great Carbuncle smote with a peculiar madness, and became the passionate

dream of their existence. All who visited that region knew him as the Seeker and by no other name. As none

could remember when he first took up the search, there went a fable in the valley of the Saco, that for his

inordinate lust after the Great Carbuncle, he had been condemned to wander among the mountains till the end

of time, still with the same feverish hopes at sunrise the same despair at eve. Near this miserable Seeker sat

a little elderly personage, wearing a highcrowned hat, shaped somewhat like a crucible. He was from

beyond the sea, a Doctor Cacaphodel, who had wilted and dried himself into a mummy by continually

stooping over charcoal furnaces, and inhaling unwholesome fumes during his researches in chemistry and

alchemy. It was told of him, whether truly or not, that, at the commencement of his studies, he had drained

his body of all its richest blood, and wasted it, with other inestimable ingredients, in an unsuccessful

experiment and had never been a well man since. Another of the adventurers was Master bod Pigsnort, a

weighty merchant and selector Boston, and an elder of the famous Mr. Norton's church. His enemies had a

ridiculous story that Master Pigsnort was accustomed to spend a whole hour after prayer time, every morning

and evening, in wallowing naked among an immense quantity of pinetree shillings, which were the earliest

silver coinage of Massachusetts. The fourth whom we shall notice had no name that his companions knew of,

and was chiefly distinguished by a sneer that always contorted his thin visage, and by a prodigious pair of

spectacles, which were supposed to deform and discolor the whole face of nature, to this gentleman's

perception. The fifth adventurer likewise lacked a name, which was the greater pity, as he appeared to be a

poet. He was a brighteyed man, but woefully pined away, which was no more than natural, if, as some

people affirmed, his ordinary diet was fog, morning mist, and a slice of the densest cloud within his reach,

sauced with moonshine, whenever he could get it. Certain it is, that the poetry which flowed from him had a

smack of all these dainties. The sixth of the party was a young man of haughty mien, and sat somewhat apart

from the rest, wearing his plumed hat loftily among his elders, while the fire glittered on the rich embroidery

of his dress and gleamed intensely on the jewelled pommel of his sword. This was the Lord de Vere, who,

when at home, was said to spend much of his time in the burial vault of his dead progenitors, rummaging

their mouldy coffins in search of all the earthly pride and vainglory that was hidden among bones and dust; so

that, besides his own share, he had the collected haughtiness of his whole line of ancestry.

Lastly, there was a handsome youth in rustic garb, and by his side a blooming little person, in whom a

delicate shade of maiden reserve was just melting into the rich glow of a young wife's affection. Her name

was Hannah, and her husband's Matthew; two homely names, yet well enough adapted to the simple pair,

who seemed strangely out of place among the whimsical fraternity whose wits had been set agog by the Great

Beneath the shelter of one hut, in the bright blaze of the same fire, sat this varied group of adventurers, all so

intent upon a single object, that, of whatever else they began to speak, their closing words were sure to be

illuminated with the Great Carbuncle. Several related the circumstances that brought them thither. One had

listened to a traveller's tale of this marvellous stone in his own distant country, and had immediately been

seized with such a thirst for beholding it as could only, be quenched in its intensest lustre. Another, so long

ago as when the famous Captain Smith visited these coasts, had seen it blazing far at sea, and had felt no rest

in all the intervening years till now that he took up the search. A third, being camped on a hunting expedition

full forty miles south of the White Mountains, awoke at midnight, and beheld the Great Carbuncle gleaming

like a meteor, so that the shadows of the trees fell backward from it. They spoke of the innumerable attempts

which had been made to reach the spot, and of the singular fatality which had hitherto withheld success from

all adventurers, though it might seem so easy to follow to its source a light that overpowered the moon, and

almost matched the sun. It was observable that each smiled scornfully at the madness of every other in

anticipating better fortune than the past, yet nourished a scarcely hidden conviction that he would himself be

the favored one. As if to allay their too sanguine hopes, they recurred to the Indian traditions that a spirit kept

watch about the gem, and bewildered those who sought it either by removing it from peak to peak of the

higher hills, or by calling up a mist from the enchanted lake over which it hung. But these tales were deemed

unworthy of credit, all professing to believe that the search had been baffled by want of sagacity or

perseverance in the adventurers, or such other causes as might naturally obstruct the passage to any given

In a pause of the conversation the wearer of the prodigious spectacles looked round upon the party, making

each individual, in turn, the object of the sneer which invariably dwelt upon his countenance.

'So, fellowpilgrims,' said he, 'here we are, seven wise men, and one fair damsel who, doubtless, is as wise

as any graybeard of the company: here we are, I say, all bound on the same goodly enterprise. Methinks,

now, it were not amiss that each of us declare what he proposes to do with the Great Carbuncle, provided he

have the good hap to clutch it. What says our friend in the bear skin? How mean you, good sir, to enjoy the

prize which you have been seeking, the Lord knows how long, among the Crystal Hills?'

'How enjoy it!' exclaimed the aged Seeker, bitterly. 'I hope for no enjoyment from it; that folly has passed

long ago! I keep up the search for this accursed stone because the vain ambition of my youth has become a

fate upon me in old age. The pursuit alone is my strength the energy of my soul the warmth of my blood

and the pith and marrow of my bones! Were I to turn my back upon it I should fall down dead on the hither

side of the Notch, which is the gateway of this mountain region. Yet not to have my wasted lifetime back

again would I give up my hopes of the Great Carbuncle! Having found it, i shall bear it to a certain cavern

that I wot of, and there, grasping it in my arms, lie down and die, and keep it buried with me forever.'

'O wretch, regardless of the interests of science!' cried Doctor Cacaphodel, with philosophic indignation.

'Thou art not worthy to behold, even from afar off, the lustre of this most precious gem that ever was

concocted in the laboratory of Nature. Mine is the sole purpose for which a wise man may desire the

Immediately on obtaining it for I have a presentiment, good people, that the prize is reserved to crown my

scientific reputation I shall return to Europe, and employ my remaining years in reducing it to its first

elements. A portion of the stone will I grind to impalpable powder; other parts shall be dissolved in acids, or

whatever solvents will act upon so admirable a composition; and the remainder I design to melt in the

crucible, or set on fire with the blowpipe. By these various methods I shall gain an accurate analysis, and

'Excellent!' quoth the man with the spectacles. 'Nor need you hesitate, learned sir, on account of the necessary

destruction of the gem; since the perusal of your folio may teach every mother's son of us to concoct a Great

'But, verily,' said Master Ichabod Pigsnort, 'for mine own part I object to the making of these counterfeits, as

being calculated to reduce the marketable value of the true gem. I tell ye frankly, sirs, I have an interest in

keeping up the price. Here have I quitted my regular traffic, leaving my warehouse in the care of my clerks,

and putting my credit to great hazard, and, furthermore, have put myself in peril of death or captivity by the

accursed heathen savagesand all this without daring to ask the prayers of the congregation, because the

quest for the Great Carbuncle is deemed little better than a traffic with the Evil One. Now think ye that I

would have done this grievous wrong to my soul, body, reputation, and estate, without a reasonable chance of

' Not I, pious Master Pigsnort,' said the man with the spectacles. 'I never laid such a great folly to thy charge.'

'Truly, I hope not,' said the merchant. 'Now, as touching this Great Carbuncle, I am free to own that I have

never had a glimpse of it; but be it only the hundredth part so bright as people tell, it will surely outvalue the

Great Mogul's best diamond, which he holds at an incalculable sum. Wherefore, I am minded to put the Great

Carbuncle on shipboard, and voyage with it to England, France, Spain, Italy, or into Heathendom, if

Providence should send me thither, and, in a word, dispose of the gem to the best bidder among the potentates

of the earth, that he may place it among his crown jewels. If any of ye have a wiser plan, let him expound it.'

'That have I, thou sordid man!' exclaimed the poet. ' Dost thou desire nothing brighter than gold that thou

wouldst transmute all this ethereal lustre into such dross as thou wallowest in already? For myself, hiding the

jewel under my cloak, I shall hie me back to my attic chamber, in one of the darksome alleys of London.

There, night and day, will I gaze upon it; my soul shall drink its radiance; it shall be diffused throughout my

intellectual powers, and gleam brightly in every line of poesy that I indite. Thus, long ages after I am gone,

'Well said, Master Poet!' cried he of the spectacles. 'Hide it under thy cloak, sayest thou? Why, it will gleam

'To think!' ejaculated the Lord de Vere, rather to himself than his companions, the best of whom he held

utterly unworthy of his intercourse 'to think that a fellow in a tattered cloak should talk of conveying the

Great Carbuncle to a garret in Grub Street! Have not I resolved within myself that the whole earth contains no

fitter ornament for the great hall of my ancestral castle? There shall it flame for ages, making a noonday of

midnight, glittering on the suits of armor, the banners, and escutcheons, that hang around the wall, and

keeping bright the memory of heroes. Wherefore have all other adventurers sought the prize in vain but that I

might win it, and make it a symbol of the glories of our lofty line? And never, on the diadem of the White

Mountains, did the Great Carbuncle hold a place half so honored as is reserved for it in the hall of the De

'It is a noble thought,' said the Cynic, with an obsequious sneer. 'Yet, might I presume to say so, the gem

would make a rare sepulchral lamp, and would display the glories of your lordship's progenitors more truly in

'Nay, forsooth,' observed Matthew, the young rustic, who sat hand in hand with his bride, 'the gentleman has

bethought himself of a profitable use for this bright stone. Hannah here and I are seeking it for a like purpose.'

'How, fellow!' exclaimed his lordship, in surprise. 'What castle hall hast thou to hang it in?'

'No castle,' replied Matthew, 'but as neat a cottage as any within sight of the Crystal Hills. Ye must know,

friends, that Hannah and I, being wedded the last week, have taken up the search of the Great Carbuncle,

because we shall need its light in the long winter evenings; and it will be such a pretty thing to show the

neighbors when they visit us. It will shine through the house so that we may pick up a pin in any corner, and

will set all the windows aglowing as if there were a great fire of pine knots in the chimney. And then how

There was a general smile among the adventurers at the simplicity of the young couple's project in regard to

this wondrous and invaluable stone, with which the greatest monarch on earth might have been proud to

adorn his palace. Especially the man with spectacles, who had sneered at all the company in turn, now twisted

his visage into such an expression of illnatured mirth, that Matthew asked him, rather peevishly, what he

'The Great Carbuncle!' answered the Cynic, with ineffable scorn. 'Why, you blockhead, there is no such thing

in rerum natura. I have come three thousand miles, and am resolved to set my foot on every peak of these

mountains, and poke my head into every chasm, for the sole purpose of demonstrating to the satisfaction of

any man one whit less an ass than thyself that the Great Carbuncle is all a humbug!'

Vain and foolish were the motives that had brought most of the adventurers to the Crystal Hills; but none so

vain, so foolish, and so impious too, as that of the scoffer with the prodigious spectacles. He was one of those

wretched and evil men whose yearnings are downward to the darkness, instead of heavenward, and who,

could they but distinguish the lights which God hath kindled for us, would count the midnight gloom their

chiefest glory. As the Cynic spoke, several of the party were startled by a gleam of red splendor, that showed

the huge shapes of the surrounding mountains and the rock bestrewn bed of the turbulent river with an

illumination unlike that of their fire on the trunks and black boughs of the forest trees. They listened for the

roll of thunder, but heard nothing, and were glad that the tempest came not near them. The stars, those

dialpoints of heaven, now warned the adventurers to close their eyes on the blazing logs, and open them, in

The young married couple had taken their lodgings in the farthest corner of the wigwam, and were separated

from the rest of the party by a curtain of curiouslywoven twigs, such as might have hung, in deep festoons,

around the bridalbower of Eve. The modest little wife had wrought this piece of tapestry while the other

guests were talking. She and her husband fell asleep with hands tenderly clasped, and awoke from visions of

unearthly radiance to meet the more blessed light of one another's eyes. They awoke at the same instant, and

with one happy smile beaming over their two faces, which grew brighter with their consciousness of the

reality of life and love. But no sooner did she recollect where they were, than the bride peeped through the

interstices of the leafy curtain, and saw that the outer room of the hut was deserted.

'Up, dear Matthew!' cried she, in haste. 'The strange folk are all gone! Up, this very minute, or we shall loose

In truth, so little did these poor young people deserve the mighty prize which had lured them thither, that they

had slept peacefully all night, and till the summits of the hills were glittering with sunshine; while the other

adventurers had tossed their limbs in feverish wakefulness, or dreamed of climbing precipices, and set off to

realize their dreams with the earliest peep of dawn. But Matthew and Hannah, after their calm rest, were as

light as two young deer, and merely stopped to say their prayers and wash themselves in a cold pool of the

Amonoosuck, and then to taste a morsel of food, ere they turned their faces to the mountainside. It was a

sweet emblem of conjugal affection, as they toiled up the difficult ascent, gathering strength from the mutual

aid which they afforded. After several little accidents, such as a torn robe, a lost shoe, and the entanglement

of Hannah's hair in a bough, they reached the upper verge of the forest, and were now to pursue a more

adventurous course. The innumerable trunks and heavy foliage of the trees had hitherto shut in their thoughts,

which now shrank affrighted from the region of wind and cloud and naked rocks and desolate sunshine, that

rose immeasurably above them. They gazed back at the obscure wilderness which they had traversed, and

longed to be buried again in its depths rather than trust themselves to so vast and visible a solitude.

'Shall we go on?' said Matthew, throwing his arm round Hannah's waist, both to protect her and to comfort

But the little bride, simple as she was, had a woman's love of jewels, and could not forego the hope of

possessing the very brightest in the world, in spite of the perils with which it must be won.

'Let us climb a little higher,' whispered she, yet tremulously, as she turned her face upward to the lonely sky.

'Come, then,' said Matthew,mustering his manly courage and drawing her along with him, for she became

And upward, accordingly, went the pilgrims of the Great Carbuncle, now treading upon the tops and

thicklyinterwoven branches of dwarf pines, which, by the growth of centuries, though mossy with age, had

barely reached three feet in altitude. Next, they came to masses and fragments of naked rock heaped

confusedly together, like a cairn reared by giants in memory of a giant chief. In this bleak realm of upper air

nothing breathed, nothing grew; there was no life but what was concentrated in their two hearts; they had

climbed so high that Nature herself seemed no longer to keep them company. She lingered beneath them,

within the verge of the forest trees, and sent a farewell glance after her children as they strayed where her

own green footprints had never been. But soon they were to be hidden from her eye. Densely and dark the

mists began to gather below, casting black spots of shadow on the vast landscape, and sailing heavily to one

centre, as if the loftiest mountain peak had summoned a council of its kindred clouds. Finally, the vapors

welded themselves, as it were, into a mass, presenting the appearance of a pavement over which the

wanderers might have trodden, but where they would vainly have sought an avenue to the blessed earth

which they had lost. And the lovers yearned to behold that green earth again, more intensely, alas! than,

beneath a clouded sky, they had ever desired a glimpse of heaven. They even felt it a relief to their desolation

when the mists, creeping gradually up the mountain, concealed its lonely peak, and thus annihilated, at least

for them, the whole region of visible space. But they drew closely together, with a fond and melancholy gaze,

Still, perhaps, they would have been resolute to climb as far and as high, between earth and heaven, as they

could find foothold, if Hannah's strength had not begun to fail, and with that, her courage also. Her breath

grew short. She refused to burden her husband with her weight, but often tottered against his side, and

recovered herself each time by a feebler effort. At last, she sank down on one of the rocky steps of the

'We are lost, dear Matthew,' said she, mournfully. 'We shall never find our way to the earth again. And oh

'Dear heart! w we will yet be happy there,' answered Matthew. 'Look! In this direction, the sunshine

penetrates the dismal mist. By its aid, I can direct our course to the passage of the Notch. Let us go back,

'The sun cannot be yonder[ said Hannah, with despondence. 'By this time it must be noon. If there could ever

'But look!' repeated Matthew, in a somewhat altered tone. 'It is brightening every moment. If not sunshine,

Nor could the young bride any longer deny that a radiance was breaking through the mist, and changing its

dim hue to a dusky red, which continually grew more vivid, as if brilliant particles were interfused with the

gloom. Now, also, the cloud began to roll away from the mountain, while, as it heavily withdrew, one object

after another started out of its impenetrable obscurity into sight, with precisely the effect of a new creation,

before the indistinctness of the old chaos had been completely swallowed up. As the process went on, they

saw the gleaming of water close at their feet, and found themselves on the very border of a mountain lake,

deep, bright, clear, and calmly beautiful, spreading from brim to brim of a basin that had been scooped out of

the solid rock. A ray of glory flashed across its surface. The pilgrims looked whence it should proceed, but

closed their eyes with a thrill of awful admiration, to exclude the fervid splendor that glowed from the brow

of a cliff impending over the enchanted lake. For the simple pair had reached that lake of mystery, and found

They threw their arms around each other, and trembled at their own success; for, as the legends of this

wondrous gem rushed thick upon their memory, they felt themselves marked out by fate and the

consciousness was fearful. Often, from childhood upward, they had seen it shining like a distant star. And

now that star was throwing its intensest lustre on their hearts. They seemed changed to one another's eyes, in

the red brilliancy that flamed upon their cheeks, while it lent the same fire to the lake, the rocks, and sky, and

to the mists which had rolled back before its power. But, with their next glance, they beheld an object that

drew their attention even from the mighty stone. At the base of the cliff, directly beneath the Great Carbuncle,

appeared the figure of a man, with his arms extended in the act of climbing, and his face turned upward, as if

to drink the full gush of splendor. But he stirred not, no more than if changed to marble.

'It is the Seeker,' whispered Hannah, convulsively grasping her husband's arm. 'Matthew, he is dead.'

'The joy of success has killed him,' replied Matthew, trembling violently. 'Or, perhaps, the very light of the

'The Great Carbuncle,' cried a peevish voice behind them. 'The Great Humbug! If you have found it, prithee

They turned their heads, and there was the Cynic, with his prodigious spectacles set carefully on his nose,

staring now at the lake, now at the rocks, now at the distant masses of vapor, now right at the Great

Carbuncle itself, yet seemingly as unconscious of its light as if all the scattered clouds were condensed about

his person. Though its radiance actually threw the shadow of the unbeliever at his own feet, as he turned his

back upon the glorious jewel, he would not be convinced that there was the least glimmer there.

'There,' said Matthew, incensed at such perverse blindness, and turning the Cynic round towards the

illuminated cliff. 'Take off those abominable spectacles, and you cannot help seeing it!'

Now these colored spectacles probably darkened the Cynic's sight, in at least as great a degree as the smoked

glasses through which people gaze at an eclipse. With resolute bravado, however, he snatched them from his

nose, and fixed a bold stare full upon the ruddy blaze of the Great Carbuncle. But scarcely had he

encountered it, when, with a deep, shuddering groan, he dropped his head, and pressed both hands across his

miserable eyes. Thenceforth there was, in very truth, no light of the Great Carbuncle, nor any other light on

earth, nor light of heaven itself, for the poor Cynic. So long accustomed to View all objects through a

medium that deprived them of every glimpse of brightness, a single flash of so glorious a phenomenon,

Matthew saw that she was faint, and kneeling down, supported her in his arms, while he threw some of the

thrillingly cold water of the enchanted lake upon her face and bosom. It revived her, but could not renovate

'Yes, dearest!' cried Matthew, pressing her tremulous form to his breast 'we will go hence, and return to our

humble cottage. The blessed sunshine and the quiet moonlight shall come through our window. We will

kindle the cheerful glow of our hearth, at eventide, and be happy in its light. But never again will we desire

'No,' said his bride, 'for how could we live by day, or sleep by night, in this awful blaze of the Great

Out of the hollow of their hands, they drank each a draught from the lake, which presented them its waters

uncontaminated by an earthly lip. Then, lending their guidance to the blinded Cynic, who uttered not a word,

and even stifled his groans in his own most wretched heart, they began to descend the mountain. Yet, as they

left the shore, till then untrodden, of the spirit's lake, they threw a farewell glance towards the cliff, and

beheld the vapors gathering in dense volumes, through which the gem burned duskily.

As touching the other pilgrims of the Great Carbuncle, the legend goes on to tell, that the worshipful Master

Ichabod Pigsnort soon gave up the quest as a desperate speculation, and wisely resolved to betake himself

again to his warehouse, near the town dock, in Boston. But, as he passed through the Notch of the mountains,

a war party of Indians captured our unlucky merchant, and carried him to Montreal, there holding him in

bondage, till, by the payment of a heavy ransom, he had woefully subtracted from his hoard of pinetree

shillings. By his long absence, moreover, his affairs had become so disordered that, for the rest of his life,

instead of wallowing in silver, he had seldom a sixpence worth of copper. Doctor Cacaphodel, the alchemist,

returned to his laboratory with a prodigious fragment of granite, which he ground to powder, dissolved in

acids, melted in the crucible, and burned with the blowpipe, and published the result of his experiments in

one of the heaviest folios of the day. And, for all these purposes, the gem itself could not have answered

better than the granite. The poet, by a somewhat similar mistake, made prize of a great piece of ice, which he

found in a sunless chasm of the mountains, and swore that it corresponded, in all points, with his idea of the

Great Carbuncle. The critics say, that, if his poetry lacked the splendor of the gem, it retained all the coldness

of the ice. The Lord de Vere went back to his ancestral hall, where he contented himself with a waxlighted

chandelier, and filled, in due course of time, another coffin in the ancestral vault. As the funeral torches

gleamed within that dark receptacle, there was no need of the Great Carbuncle to show the vanity of earthly

The Cynic, having cast aside his spectacles, wandered about the world, a miserable object, and was punished

with an agonizing desire of light, for the wilful blindness of his former life. The whole night long, he would

lift his splendorblasted orbs to the moon and stars; he turned his face eastward, at sunrise, as duly as a

Persian idolater; he made a pilgrimage to Rome, to witness the magnificent illumination of St. Peter's Church;

and finally perished in the great fire of London, into the midst of which he had thrust himself, with the

desperate idea of catching one feeble ray from the blaze that was kindling earth and heaven.

Matthew and his bride spent many peaceful years, and were fond of telling the legend of the Great Carbuncle.

The tale, however, towards the close of their lengthened lives, did not meet with the full credence that had

been accorded to it by those who remembered the ancient lustre of the gem. For it is affirmed that, from the

hour when two mortals had shown themselves so simply wise as to reject a jewel which would have dimmed

all earthly things, its splendor waned. When other pilgrims reached the cliff, they found only an opaque stone,

with particles of mica glittering on its surface. There is also a tradition that, as the youthful pair departed, the

gem was loosened from the forehead of the cliff, and fell into the enchanted lake, and that, at noontide, the

Some few believe that this inestimable stone is blazing as of old, and say that they have caught its radiance,

like a flash of summer lightning, far down the valley of the Saco. And be it owned that, many a mile from the

Crystal Hills, I saw a wondrous light around their summits, and was lured, by the faith of poesy, to be the

IT was now the middle of September. We had come since sunrise from Bartlett, passing up through the valley

of the Saco, which extends between mountainous walls, sometimes with a steep ascent, but often as level as a

church aisle� All that day and two preceding ones we had been loitering towards the heart of the White

Mountains those old crystal hills, whose mysterious brilliancy had gleamed upon our distant wanderings

before we thought of visiting them. Height after height had risen and towered one above another till the

clouds began to hang below the peaks. Down their slopes were the red pathways of the slides, those

avalanches of earth, stones and trees, which descend into the hollows, leaving vestiges of their track hardly to

be effaced by the vegetation of ages. We had mountains behind us and mountains on each side, and a group

of mightier ones ahead. Still our road went up along the Saco, right towards the centre of that group, as if to

In old times the settlers used to be astounded by the inroads of the northern Indians coming down upon them

from this mountain rampart through some defile known only to themselves. It is, indeed, a wondrous path. A

demon, it might be fancied, or one of the Titans, was travelling up the valley, elbowing the heights carelessly

aside as he passed, till at length a great mountain took its stand directly across his intended road. He tarries

not for such an obstacle, but, rending it asunder a thousand feet from peak to base, discloses its treasures of

hidden minerals, its sunless waters, all the secrets of the mountain's inmost heart, with a mighty fracture of

rugged precipices on each side. This is the Notch of the White Hills. Shame on me that I have attempted to

describe it by so mean an image feeling, as I do, that it is one of those symbolic scenes which lead the

We had now reached a narrow passage, which showed almost the appearance of having been cut by human

strength and artifice in the solid rock. There was a wall of granite on each side, high and precipitous,

especially on our right, and so smooth that a few evergreens could hardly find foothold enough to grow there.

This is the entrance, or, in the direction we were going, the extremity, of the romantic defile of the Notch.

Before emerging from it, the rattling of wheels approached behind us, and a stagecoach rumbled out of the

mountain, with seats on top and trunks behind, and a smart driver, in a drab greatcoat, touching the wheel

horses with the whipstock and reining in the leaders. To my mind there was a sort of poetry in such an

incident, hardly inferior to what would have accompanied the painted array of an Indian war party gliding

forth from the same wild chasm. All the passengers, except a very fat lady on the back seat, had alighted. One

was a mineralogist, a scientific, greenspectacled figure in black, bearing a heavy hammer, with which he did

great damage to the precipices, and put the fragments in his pocket. Another was a welldressed young man,

who carried an opera glass set in gold, and seemed to be making a quotation from some of Byron's rhapsodies

on mountain scenery. There was also a trader, returning from Portland to the upper part of Vermont; and a

fair young girl, with a very faint bloom like one of those pale and delicate flowers which sometimes occur

They disappeared, and we followed them, passing through a deep pine forest, which for some miles allowed

us to see nothing but its own dismal shade. Towards nightfall we reached a level amphitheatre, surrounded by

a great rampart of hills, which shut out the sunshine long before it left the external world. It was here that we

obtained our first view, except at a distance, of the principal group of mountains. They are majestic, and even

awful, when contemplated in a proper mood, yet, by their breadth of base and the long ridges which support

them, give the idea of immense bulk rather than of towering height. Mount Washington, indeed, looked near

to heaven: he was white with snow a mile downward, and had caught the only cloud that was sailing through

the atmosphere to veil his head. Let us forget the other names of American statesmen that have been stamped

upon these hills, but still call the loftiest Washington. Mountains are Earth's undecaying monuments. They

must stand while she endures, and never should be consecrated to the mere great men of their own age and

country, but to the mighty ones alone, whose glory is universal, and whom all time will render illustrious.

The air, not often sultry in this elevated region, nearly two thousand feet above the sea, was now sharp and

cold, like that of a clear November evening in the lowlands. By morning, probably, there would be a frost, if

not a snowfall, on the grass and rye, and an icy surface over the standing water. I was glad to perceive a

prospect of comfortable quarters in a house which we were approaching, and of pleasant company in the

OUR EVENING PARTY AMONG THE MOUNTAINS We stood in front of a good substantial farmhouse,

of old date in that wild country. A sign over the door denoted it to be the White Mountain Post Office an

establishment which distributes letters and newspapers to perhaps a score of persons, comprising the

population of two or three townships among the hills. The broad and weighty antlers of a deer, 'a stag of ten,'

were fastened at the corner of the house; a fox's bushy tail was nailed beneath them; and a huge black paw lay

on the ground, newly severed and still bleeding the trophy of a bear hunt. Among several persons collected

about the doorsteps, the most remarkable was a sturdy mountaineer, of six feet two and corresponding bulk,

with a heavy set of features, such as might be moulded on his own blacksmith's anvil, but yet indicative of

mother wit and rough humor. As we appeared, he uplifted a tin trumpet, four or five feet long, and blew a

tremendous blast, either in honor of our arrival or to awaken an echo from the opposite hill.

Ethan Crawford's guests were of such a motley description as to form quite a picturesque group, seldom seen

together except at some place like this, at once the pleasure house of fashionable tourists and the homely inn

of country travellers. Among the company at the door were the mineralogist and the owner of the gold opera

glass whom we had encountered in the Notch; two Georgian gentlemen, who had chilled their southern blood

that morning on the top of Mount Washington; a physician and his wife from Conway; a trader of Burlington,

and an old squire of the Green Mountains; and two young married couples, all the way from Massachusetts,

on the matrimonial jaunt, Besides these strangers, the rugged county of Coos, in which we were, was

represented by half a dozen woodcutters, who had slain a bear in the forest and smitten off his paw.

I had joined the party, and had a moment's leisure to examine them before the echo of Ethan's blast returned

from the hill. Not one, but many echoes had caught up the harsh and tuneless sound, untwisted its

complicated threads, and found a thousand aerial harmonies in one stern trumpet tone. It was a distinct yet

distant and dreamlike symphony of melodious instruments, as if an airy band had been hidden on the hillside

and made faint music at the summons. No subsequent trial produced so clear, delicate, and spiritual a concert

as the first. A fieldpiece was then discharged from the top of a neighboring hill, and gave birth to one long

reverberation, which ran round the circle of mountains in an unbroken chain of sound and rolled away

without a separate echo. After these experiments, the cold atmosphere drove us all into the house, with the

It did one's heart good to see the great fires that were kindled in the parlor and barroom, especially the latter,

where the fireplace was built of rough stone, and might have contained the trunk of an old tree for a backlog.

A man keeps a comfortable hearth when his own forest is at his very door. In the parlor, when the evening

was fairly set in, we held our hands before our eyes to shield them from the ruddy glow, and began a pleasant

variety of conversation. The mineralogist and the physician talked about the invigorating qualities of the

mountain air, and its excellent effect on Ethan Crawford's father, an old man of seventyfive, with the

unbroken frame of middle life. The two brides and the doctor's wife held a whispered discussion, which, by

their frequent titterings and a blush or two, seemed to have reference to the trials or enjoyments of the

matrimonial state. The bridegrooms sat together in a corner, rigidly silent, like Quakers whom the spirit

moveth not, being still in the odd predicament of bashfulness towards their own young wives. The Green

Mountain squire chose me for his companion, and described the difficulties he had met with half a century

ago in travelling from the Connecticut River through the Notch to Conway, now a single day's journey,

though it had cost him eighteen. The Georgians held the album between them, and favored us with the few

specimens of its contents which they considered ridiculous enough to be worth hearing. One extract met with

deserved applause. It was a 'Sonnet to the Snow on Mount Washington,' and had been contributed that very

afternoon, bearing a signature of great distinction in magazines and annals. The lines were elegant and full of

fancy, but too remote from familiar sentiment, and cold as their subject, resembling those curious specimens

of crystallized vapor which I observed next day on the mountain top. The poet was understood to be the

young gentleman of the gold opera glass, who heard our laudatory remarks with the composure of a veteran.

Such was our party, and such their ways of amusement. But on a winter evening another set of guests

assembled at the hearth where these summer travellers were now sitting. I once had it in contemplation to

spend a month hereabouts, in sleighing time, for the sake of studying the yeomen of New England, who then

elbow each other through the Notch by hundreds, on their way to Portland. There could be no better school

for such a place than Ethan Crawford's inn. Let the student go thither in December, sit down with the

teamsters at their meals, share their evening merriment, and repose with them at night when every bed has its

three occupants, and parlor, barroom, and kitchen are strewn with slumberers around the fire. Then let him

rise before daylight, button his greatcoat, muffle up his ears, and stride with the departing caravan a mile or

two, to see how sturdily they make head against the blast. A treasure of characteristic traits will repay all

The conversation of our party soon became more animated and sincere, and we recounted some traditions of

the Indians, who believed that the father and mother of their race were saved from a deluge by ascending the

peak of Mount Washington. The children of that pair have been overwhelmed, and found no such refuge. In

the mythology of the savage, these mountains were afterwards considered sacred and inaccessible, full of

unearthly wonders, illuminated at lofty heights by the blaze of precious stones, and inhabited by deities, who

sometimes shrouded themselves in the snowstorm and came down on the lower world. There are few legends

more poetical than that of the' Great Carbuncle' of the White Mountains. The belief was communicated to the

English settlers, and is hardly yet extinct, that a gem, of such immense size as to be seen shining miles away,

hangs from a rock over a clear, deep lake, high up among the hills. They who had once beheld its splendor

were inthralled with an unutterable yearning to possess it. But a spirit guarded that inestimable jewel, and

bewildered the adventurer with a dark mist from the enchanted lake. Thus life was worn away in the vain

search for an unearthly treasure, till at length the deluded one went up the mountain, still sanguine as in

youth, but returned no more. On this theme methinks I could frame a tale with a deep moral.

The hearts of the palefaces would not thrill to these superstitions of the red men, though we spoke of them in

the centre of the haunted region. The habits and sentiments of that departed people were too distinct from

those of their successors to find much real sympathy. It has often been a matter of regret to me that I was shut

out from the most peculiar field of American fiction by an inability to see any romance, or poetry, or

grandeur, or beauty in the Indian character, at least till such traits were pointed out by others. I do abhor an

Indian story. Yet no writer can be more secure of a permanent place in our literature than the biographer of

the Indian chiefs. His subject, as referring to tribes which have mostly vanished from the earth, gives him a

right to be placed on a classic shelf, apart from the merits which will sustain him there.

I made inquiries whether, in his researches about these parts, our mineralogist had found the three 'Silver

Hills' which an Indian sachem sold to an Englishman nearly two hundred years ago, and the treasure of which

the posterity of the purchaser have been looking for ever since. But the man of science had ransacked every

hill along the Saco, and knew nothing of these prodigious piles of wealth. By this time, as usual with men on

the eve of great adventure, we had prolonged our session deep into the night, considering how early we were

to set out on our six miles' ride to the foot of Mount Washington. There was now a general breaking up. I

scrutinized the faces of the two bridegrooms, and saw but little probability of their leaving the bosom of

earthly bliss, in the first week of the honeymoon and at the frosty hour of three, to climb above the clouds;

nor when I felt how sharp the wind was as it rushed through a broken pane and eddied between the chinks of

my unplastered chamber, did I anticipate much alacrity on my own part, though we were to seek for the