S. Baring-Gould, Post-Mediæval Preachers
“ Oh, into what fantastic shapes does the wind whirl the dust! how the dust-cloud runs along, rushes forward madly, stops and spins awhile, and tosses itself up, up, till it seems verily to fly; it ascends higher [197] and higher, it is carried above the tree-tops, it will reach the clouds of Heaven. ”
