Various, The Southern Literary Messenger… (1836)
“ The pencil of no mortal artist would be delicate enough to trace her features, and human language is too imperfect to describe the surpassing loveliness of this ethereal being. The gossamer strung with tiny pearls, and floating on the herbage of an autumnal morning, surpassed not in lightness the ringlets on her shoulder; and her footstep could only be traced by its displacing the golden dust from the flower, as she tripped from petal to petal, giving them their colors with a brush steeped in the dyes of Fairy-land. ”
