He had no conscience of wrong, and scarcely knew fear.

It was an awful delight that filled his spirit.
Mount Sinai was not to him a terror.

To him there was no wrath in the thunder any more than in the greeting of the dog that found him in his kennel.

To him there was no being in the sky so righteous as to be more displeased than pitiful over the wrongness of the children whom he had not yet got taught their childhood.

Gibbie sat calm, awe-ful, but, I imagine, with a clear forehead and smile-haunted mouth, while the storm roared and beat and flashed and ran about him.