No one knew who had heard it first. The Indians had
known it years before, and they said it had been murmured by the
mountain streams and whispered by the wind among the treetops. And the
story was this: At some future day--no one knew when--a child would be
born in the valley who would grow up to be the noblest and greatest man
of his time, and his face would look exactly like the Great Stone Face
which had gazed kindly down on the valley for so many years. Many of the
people in the valley said this was only a foolish tale, never to come to
pass, but a few still watched and waited, hoping for the great man to
come, but as yet he had not appeared.
When Ernest heard the story he clapped his hands, and said eagerly: "Oh,
mother, dear mother, I do hope I shall live to see him."
The mother smiled, and, putting her hand on the boy's head, said:
"Perhaps you may."
Ernest never forgot the story his mother told him. It was always in his
mind whenever he looked upon the Great Stone Face. He spent his boyhood
days in the humble little cottage, helping his mother with the simple
household duties, and, as he grew older, working in the fields to earn
their daily bread.
Pages:
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72