Various, The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 13…
“ Marlboro' stood now, and steadied the tiller with his foot."This is motion!" said he. "We fly upon the wings of the wind! The viewless wind comes roaring out of the black region of the East, it fills the high heaven, it roars on to the uttermost undulation of the atmosphere, and we are a part of it! We are only a mote upon its breath, a dust-atom driven before it, Éloise,—and yet one great happiness is greater than it, drowns it in a vaster flood of viewless power, can whisper to it calm!" ”
