Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1910-09-02

living images which the poet flung out
of his mind, and which peopled all the
air about the cottage door with shapes
of beauty, both gay and pensivc. The
sympathies of these two men intrusted
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 others. They led one
| another, as it were, into a high pavil-
ion of their thoughts, so remote, and
hitherto so dim, that they had never
| entered it before, and so beautiful that
| they desired to be there always.
AS Ernest listened to the poet, he
imagined that the Great Stone Face
was bending forward to listen too. He
gaZed earnestly into the poets glowing
eyes.
]. who are you, my strangely gifted
guest?" he said
The poet laid his finger on the VOL
ume that Ernest had been reading.
You have read these poems" said
he. You know me, then-for l wrote
them"
Again, and still more earnestly than
before, Ernest examined the poets
features; then turned towards the
| Great Stone Face; then back, with an
uncertain aspect, to his guest. But
his countenance fell; he shook his
head, and sighed.
"Wherefore are you sad" inquired
the poet
Because" replied Ernest, "all
through life have awaited the fulfill
ment of a prophecy; and, when | read
these poems, hoped that it might he
fulfilled in YOU"
You hoped" answered the poet,
family smiling, ito find in me the like
ness of the Great Stone Face. And
you are disappointed. as formerly with
Mr.. Gathergold and old Blood-and-
Thunder. and old Stony Phiz. Yes.
| Ernest, it is my doom. You must add
nv name to the illustrious three, and
record another failure of your hopes.
| Form shame and sadness do | speak
it, Ernest am not worthy to he typ
flied by yonder benign and majestic
image"
And Why" asked Ernest. He point+
A.. II thnSp
thoughts divine?"
They have a strain of the Divinity,
| replied the poet. You can hear IN
them the far-off echo of heavenly
song. But my life. dear Ernest. has
not correspnnded with my thought. |
| have had grand dreams, but they nave
been only dreams, because | have lived
and that, too. by my own choice
among poor and mean realities. Some
times even-shall | dare To say tt
lack faith in the grandeur. the beauty.
and the goodness. which my own
works are said to have made more
evident i'm nature and in human life.
why, then, pure seeker of the good
and true, shouldst thou hope To iind
me, in ynndcr 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 tu an assemhlagc of the
neighburhond inhabitants i'm th" open
air. He and the poet arm in arm. still
talking O". ..Icr as they went along,
| proceeded To- the spot. 1t was small
nook among the hills. with gray pr =
cipcc behind the stern front of which
was relieved by the pleasant foliage of
many creeping plants, that made n
tapestry for The naked rock, ny hang
ing their festonns from all its rugged
angles At a small elevation above