Argosy, Vol. 119, No. 2 — page 90: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ae ae ape * hte ee” ERIN ES oh iba ta ac bed. Heo wdre s! ‘ PRU A rp pgucel rg eres, 240 had everything their own way! let the rest of that little heart-to-heart talk . a dozen times all told; and generally there— was two or three days in between times; and so—I never noticed.” | ‘ Well,’> says Spike, “im case you never noticed somethimwg else, the next time you shave yourself take a look in the glass and you'll notice the luckiest stiff in the world!” And Ill admit frankly that I almost be- lieved him. Well, taking it by and large, it’s a kind of complicated thing, when you consider the possibilities; and I’ll let you figure it out yourself, if you can. But, anyway, Ill say this: the contrary-mindeds certainly And we'll between Spike and me go, too. J’ll merely say that, to me, it shapes up a good deal like this: as long as I’m manager of the / \ THE ARGOSY. Pink Sox, Spike McGinnis will never have to go looking for a job. Not that there’s any regular understanding between us; but —well, maybe a sort of understanding, you know. And so that’s the story of how I got my start. This year—how I won the World’s Championship—that’s another story. So I'll pass it up except to say that Spike Mc- Ginnis says—- but you know what Spike says. Ina splits the credit about eighty- twenty between herself and Professor Aloy- sius XX. Beecroft, and me. Of course I’m on the little end. As for me, I’m not say- ing a word—more than this: I’ve learned— and I'll leave it to you to guess where— that the big idea is te decide—and don’t hesitate! And if you wrong— It’s a poor boss that has ne alibi. DREAMLAND | LEAK the winter night without, ' Cold the hearth within, Loud the gale with roar and rout, Doleful clash and din. } Swirling clouds are scurrying by—~ Restless spirits they ; 7 Melting, merging, still they fly; Doom comes with the day. - Though the tempest’s towering arm Rock the flaming skies, ‘There be places, hidden, calm, Where his fury dies. So my spirit, void of will, Restless, ever flies Round a center that is still, Wherein dreamland lies. Raging storms of passien cease On this hallowed shore; Tempest wrath is stilled, and peace Bideth evermore. Wraiths of many another scene— scenes I hold full dear, And the dearer might-have-been— ‘These in dreams appear. So I, counting storm and strife As but things that seem, Find a richer, sweeter life In the land of dreams. Harold White. - comicbooks.com — \ » + oo | Soe