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Updated: September 9, 2025
I drew it out, and spread it flat upon the bed before me, whitened and roughened with bone, reddened with blood, written on with rude stylus, bearing certain words which all the time, day and night, rang, yes, and sang, in my brain. "I, John Cowles I, Ellen Meriwether take thee, for better, for worse till death " I saw her name, E-l-l-e-n. Presently once more I departed.
I had hardly taken my seat before I recognised Barrington Cowles, with his fiancee and old Mrs. Merton, sitting in the third or fourth row of the stalls. They caught sight of me at almost the same moment, and we bowed to each other.
"But one thing I know," she concluded, "thee is John Cowles, the son of my husband, John; and thee at the last will do what is right, what thy heart says to thee is right." She kissed me on the cheek and so arose. All that night I felt her prayers. The next morning at the proper hour I started for the Sheraton mansion. This time it was not my old horse Satan that I rode.
Cowles, has been most manly, quite above reproach. I could want no better son to join my family." His words, spoken in ignorance, cut me unbearably. "Colonel Sheraton," I said to him, "there is but one way for a man to ride, and that is straight. I say to you; my conduct has not been in the least above reproach, and your daughter has not told you all that she ought to have told."
We are the world, you and I." She sat thoughtful and silent for a time, a faint pink, as I said, just showing on her cheeks. "John Cowles, of Virginia," she said simply, "now tell me, how shall I mend this broken kettle?" Poor, indeed, in worldly goods must be those to whom the discarded refuse of an abandoned Indian camp seems wealth.
Well, sir, I thought it over, and for the most part I dropped the other two, and took up more farming." "Your father is Mr. John Cowles, of Cowles' Farms?" "The same." "No doubt your family know every one in this part of the country?" "Oh, yes, very well." "These are troublous times," he ventured, after a time. "I mean in regard to this talk of secession of the Southern States."
Conference of 1866. Centenary Year. Lay Delegation. Reconstruction. Returned to Fond du Lac District. Seven Sermons a Week Rev. O.J. Cowles. Beaver Dam. A Good Record. Fall River. Early History. Columbus. Rev. Henry Sewell. Conference of 1867. Election of Delegates. Cotton Street. Rev. R.S. Hayward. Rev. A.A. Reed. General Conference. Conference of 1868. Rev. T.C. Wilson. Rev. H.C. Tilton. Rev.
"But I thought you yourself never read recent history." Nicolovius flung him a sharp look, which the young man, staring thoughtfully at the floor, missed. The old professor laughed. "My dear boy! I read it on the lips of Major Brooke, I read it daily in the newspapers, I read it in such articles as your Colonel Cowles wrote about this very Reunion.
There was a platter of cold prairie chicken, a glass dish containing wild-plum sauce, and a plate of biscuit; while on the stove hearth stood a white tureen, holding a few slices of hot toast. Mrs. Cowles, having been informed by her liege lord that her presence was not desired at that particular hour, had gladly improved the opportunity to take a cup of tea with her friend Mrs.
The place sounded empty. Finally there came a shuffling footfall and the door was opened, but there stood before me no one that I recognized. It was a smallish, oldish, grayish man who opened the door and smiled in query at me. "I am John Cowles, sir," I said, hesitating. "Yourself I do not seem to know " "My name is Halliday, Mr. Cowles," he replied. A flush of humiliation came to my face.
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