Publisher, H.Greeley & Co., Mrs. L. E. Maclean Obituary The New Yorker (1839)
“ I like the perpetual dash on the rocks; one wave comes up after another, and is for ever dashed in pieces—like human hopes, that swell to be disappointed. We advance—up springs the shining froth of love or hope, ‘a moment white, and gone for ever.’ The land view, with its cocoa and palm trees, is very striking ”
