Hand in hand they finished the ascent; and on the top in the very center of the great rock he made a heap of pine straw, where they sat side by side; the boy blue eyed and golden haired, birth-marked by his Anglo-Saxon ancestry, and the girl carrying from the centuries past her Norman birthright of brown eyes and dark tresses. As they sat, looking down upon the valley, her dark curls, tousled by the wind, played tag with his golden locks. How different the two children were. Dorothy’s eyes and thoughts were of the valley, which the distance transformed into toyland. The houses suited the people, who were tiny dolls. The cattle as they came from the barns looked like the tiny creatures of a toy ark. These she talked about in a chirpy, rambling way; but the boy, mind-marked by his forebears, did not hear. He sat and gazed into the May-blue sky, blotted at intervals with fluffy, half transparent clouds, wind rolled from the Blue Ridge towards the Alleghanies. He began to talk of them: “The clouds are the chariots of the angels and if you watch closely you may see them driving with reins of gold. Above the clouds, if you look hard and pray the while, you may see the face of God. The angels watch over us; and if we do something we should not they drop a tear to wipe out the deed. Sometimes the tears miss their mark and fall into the sea, and they become pearls. The little shell fish which live upon the bottom where it is dark gather and store these treasures in their homes, because in passing from sky to sea they have taken into their hearts the colors of the rainbow and the sun. When the Son of God was nailed upon the cross, the angels hiding their faces lost track of earth and drove their chariots far out to sea, where, in the dark, undisturbed depths the sad old shell fish dwell; and as they traveled most of them were too sad even for tears; but a few great tears were shed and fell great, perfect pearls into the sea. These the old shell fish found and gathered up. Once in many years one of these old fellows is torn from his moorings in the darkness of the deep and washed towards the shore. A fisherman gathers in and opens the old moss grown shell and, finding the pearl, is very glad—‘Wherefore, do ye spend money for that which is not bread and your labor for that which satisfieth not. Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. Incline your ear and come unto me; hear and you shall live.’”