FROM HIS SEAT on a box in the rough board shed that stuck like a burr on the rear of Cowley & Son's store in Winesburg, Elmer Cowley, the junior member of the firm, could see through a dirty window into the printshop of the Winesburg Eagle.
In Cowley & Son's store a Jewish traveling salesman stood by the counter talk- ing to his father.
Ebenezer Cowley, the man who stood in the store listening to the eager patter of words that fell from the lips of the traveling man, was tall and lean and looked unwashed.
In the store on the morning when Elmer Cowley saw George Willard standing and apparently lis- tening at the back door of the Eagle printshop, a situation had arisen that always stirred the son's wrath.
In the store Elmer Cowley and his father stared at each other.
Elmer Cowley went out of Winesburg and along a country road that paralleled the railroad track.
He thought the boy who passed and repassed Cowley & Son's store and who stopped to talk to people in the street must be thinking of him and perhaps laughing at him.
(in the year 1684) says that the "Turtledoves were so tame, that they would often alight on our hats and arms, so as that we could take them alive, they not fearing man, until such time as some of our company did fire at them, whereby they were rendered more shy.