"[...]from trifles light as the thistle's down can erect for itself a monument more durable than granite. What a halo of beauty it casts over the scenes in which its first sight was breathed, its first vows fondly whispered, making the desert and solitary places to blossom as the rose. Even those bleak salt marshes bordering the sea, over which the sea-gull flapped her heavy grey wings, and which resounded to the pewitt's melancholy monotonous cry, possessed a charm for Dorothy. From those marshes Gilbert and Dorothy drove up the cows to be milked.[...]".