While dropping in the incline I commenced a study of the triplet sisters. Observing them distinct in style with the river people (of whom they are, and are now to visit their parents, Robet has said), I will describe them. Tall and sinuous from a constant looking up to the sky. A changeable coloring or iridescence enhances their supple attenuation. Robet, when musing, as I have related in the arbor above, was sober gray-eyed; when demanding so proudly Charley’s pedigree, intensely black-eyed; then, in tears recovering him, her eyes were blue, vapor-covered lakes. Seeing this variableness repeated in her sisters I decided it to be constitutional; I looked to see if it was a water reflection. No, for it is not on us others. Roban and Roba are on each side getting acquainted. To start conversation instructive to myself I ask the gracious ladies; “How was it before the country was dyked into a river?” “We were not born then. Our father was contractor and has told us how unpleasant were the freshets and disasters yearly.” “Whole nations were swept away. Did you not find any down there?” Roba relates. “I never heard, though Adam, the father of all mankind, was very large in size, the people became smaller afterwards.” Looking earnestly at me I see them change slowly from blonde to a gray tint, bending their heads in reflection, (I see with great surprise.) “We have always been large. I think it is the cold zone; its slow revolution causing it. The torrid, as Charley says, with its far revolution is very hot.” A flush on her face as she raises her serpentine head. “It gets more sun and the people there are larger, too,” I correct. Their eyes, my surprise increasing, turn brown as she steadfastly gazes. “Then it is not the cold that makes us grow, but preserves us, giving us great age. We are millenniums old,” she breathes gently, chestnut-haired. I am transfixed. When able to look up I see a halo round her head; a slight toss and it is dislodged in a ring leaving her in violet. Going on with her deductions a dawn color follows her words. “Our great size is due to our daylight.” “But we have as much as you, tho’ more subdivided,” I correct again. “You have not counted our winter daylight,” she persists. “Winter daylight? What is that?” I inquired. “From the center of Arc is always arising, from a deep cavity there, a constant glow, Aurora! In summer it is not seen, but all winter we bask in its light.” “How is that? I supposed Aurora only sent up fitful lights.”