Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

The lightning made his path as light as day. Twice he had to leave the trail to avoid climbing over a tree that had been blown down. How he ever reached the end of the Umstead trail Hi never knew. It seemed days ago since he left the lick, and the tragic happening that had oc- ‘curred there that night seemed almost lost in the past. Hus only thought was to reach old man White’s house and tell him that Tom Jameson had stolen away his Carrie. And when a light finally gleamed out of the dark- ness, Hiram broke in‘o a trot, even though every step seemed to wrench his arm and shoulder from his body. He passed the window and noticed that there was a lighted lamp on the sill. He fell heavily against the door and kicked, as he shouted: “White, White; let me in; it’s Hi.” The door was opered quickly. He staggered into the room and dropped on a bed of pine boughs. ‘ White,” he gasped, “’Tom Jameson has run off with Carrie. I went out to watch tonight for deer, and some scoundrel was false to me and told him that I was going to be there. Carrie found this out and came in the dark to warn me, at the risk of being shot. Tom shot me here—never mind it now. Wait until I finish telling you—and then I didn’t know no more till just a while ago. Then I came down the trail to tell you.” A gentler hand than old man White’s passed over the wounded man’s face, and the voice he loved came to him just as he fainted: “Tom Jameson didn’t run off with me, Hi, dear, and I ain’t going to marty him at all. Live here all my life with you is what I’m going to do, for you’re my own true Hiram.” The woman stooped over and kissed him, and his hand grasped hers. A LITTLE LOVE SONG. My heart was like a sunless, cold, Unlovely land of ice and snow, Wherein no blessed buds unfold, Nor singing waters flow. But all at once the April skies Laughed in your look, and at that hour My spirit melted, torrent wise, ‘My life broke into flower! Oh, dearest heart, I had not guessed: What marvel of immortal seeds Lay hidden deep within my breast, Beneath its barren weeds! But now I know, but now I know The glory of the flower of love, The joyous splendor of its glow, The subtle pain thereof ! Evaleen Stein. GOH GoOOO ‘SS CO iin cx ¢