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 a nobler strain of
poetry than he had ever written.

His eyes glistening with tears, he gazed reverentially at the venerable
man, and said within himself that never was there an aspect so worthy of
a prophet and a sage as that mild, sweet, thoughtful countenance, with
the glory of white hair diffused about it. At a distance, but distinctly
to be seen, high up in the golden light of the setting sun, appeared
the Great Stone Face, with hoary mists around it, like the white hairs
around the brow of Ernest. Its look of grand beneficence seemed to
embrace the world.

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