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Jeff Briggs's Love Story
Bret Harte

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JEFF BRIGGS'S LOVE STORY 

by Bret Harte 

JEFF BRIGGS'S LOVE STORY. 

I. 

It was raining and blowing at Eldridge's Crossing.  From the
stately pine-trees on the hill-tops, which were dignifiedly
protesting through their rigid spines upward, to the hysterical
willows in the hollow, that had whipped themselves into a maudlin
fury, there was a general tumult.  When the wind lulled, the rain
kept up the distraction, firing long volleys across the road,
letting loose miniature cataracts from the hill-sides to brawl in
the ditches, and beating down the heavy heads of wild oats on the
levels; when the rain ceased for a moment the wind charged over the
already defeated field, ruffled the gullies, scattered the spray
from the roadside pines, and added insult to injury.  But both wind

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