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Updated: September 9, 2025
I can never love any one again but you." I say that I, John Cowles, had at that moment utterly forgotten all of life and all of the world except this, then and there. "I love you!" I said, over and over again to her. She pushed away my arm. "They are all the same," she said, as though to herself. "Yes, all the same," I said. "There is no man who would not love you, here or anywhere."
And now I have come to the end of the painful duty which I have undertaken. I have told as plainly and as accurately as I could the story of the death of John Barrington Cowles, and the train of events which preceded it. I am aware that to others the sad episode seemed commonplace enough. Here is the prosaic account which appeared in the Scotsman a couple of days afterwards:
That is my immediate reply to the directors of the Post. I am willing to let the editorship wait till old Cowles dies." "Tell me," said Sharlee, "would you personally like to be editor of the Post?" "Like it! I'll resign the day after they elect me. Call it sheer wounded vanity anything you like! The name makes no difference.
At last I rubbed the blood from my own face and stooped to read what he had written. Then I thanked God that he was dead, knowing how impossible it would have been elsewise for me to stay my hand. These were the words: "I, Gordon Orme, dying July 21, 1861, confess that I killed John Cowles, Senior, in the month of April, 1860, at the road near Wallingford.
"Sad Occurrence on the Isle of May. The Isle of May has been the scene of a sad disaster. Mr. John Barrington Cowles, a gentleman well known in University circles as a most distinguished student, and the present holder of the Neil Arnott prize for physics, has been recruiting his health in this quiet retreat. The night before last he suddenly left his friend, Mr.
Bjorken, the coach, a former University of Minnesota star, told him that he might actually "make" the team in a year or two; that he had twice as much chance as Ray Cowles, who while Carl was thinking only of helping the scrub team to win was too engrossed in his own dignity as a high-school notable to get into the scrimmage.
The following incident of the prayer of President Finney for rain, and its immediate answer, is furnished by Professor Cowles, the intimate friend of President Finney: "Somewhat more than twenty years ago, the village of Oberlin and its adjacent country along the lake shore, suffered severely through the hot season from a total failure of rain, for nearly three months.
He was an officer in the Forty-first Regiment, and he was killed in action during the Persian War so he died nobly, at any rate." "That's the sort of death I should like to die," said Cowles, his dark eyes flashing, as they would when he was excited; "I often wish I had taken to my father's profession instead of this vile pill-compounding drudgery."
Salvey long ago, when she lived by the sea with her father-in-law, Captain Salvey. Many a time had judge Cowles ridden in the little boat that the captain took such pride in demonstrating, for the boat was rigged up in an original way, and the captain was choice about his companions. "Why, Mrs. Salvey!" he exclaimed, with the most cordial voice. "I am surprised to see you!" Mrs.
Three letters forwarded here, from Forrest, he is flying daily at army aviation camp, also from Gertie Cowles, she and her mother are in Minneapolis, attending a week of grand opera, also to my surprise short note from Jack Ryan, the grouch, saying he has given up flying and gone back into motor business. There won't be much more than money to pay expenses on this trip.
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