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We went to Chelsea, for the summer, and boarded with the Baptist minister, the Rev. John Wesley Olmstead, afterward editor of The Watchman and Reflector. He had married my cousin, Mary Livingston, one of the most lovely, unselfish characters I ever knew.
Whatever record the American "Y" made in North Russia, it can in truth be said of the secretarial force that with few exceptions they gave the best that was in them and they never felt satisfied with their work. The service which Olmstead and Cotton and Arnold and Albertson and Beekman and a dozen others rendered, ranks with the best work done by the Y. M. C. A. men in any part of the world.
But the winter passed quietly away; and, if no opportunity offered for any great deed of atonement, there were always the little worries of every day to be patiently borne, not the least of which was a sort of nagging spirit which had gone abroad among the old neighbors and friends of the Olmstead family.
Bryant Ryall, who ran the "Y" tent in the woods at Verst 18, next fell a victim to the Bolos, while on the way to Obozerskaya for more supplies. Olmstead, who came from 455 to help in this desperate place, remained, and as a result of his work at this front, received the French Croix de Guerre and the Russian St. George Cross.
He smiled sarcastically as he made the explanation; and Sara, in her new tenderness toward the dead mother, resented this smile. "Mother was a good manager," she said warmly, "and father always trusted her." "Oh, of course! Reub Olmstead always trusts everybody; he's born that way. But didn't she tell you where she'd put it before she died?" "No; but now I remember, she tried to, I'm sure.
Once the baby gave a sweet, low laugh in the midst of his dreams in the cradle, and then honest Reuben Olmstead turned and smiled towards the little one in a sad fashion, which made Sara feel the tears near. "Poor little goslin'!" he said tenderly. "Daddy hopes there'll be suthin' for him to do not quite so tough as facin' March sou'-westers; but then, who kin tell?
There were many learned men in New Haven then, and the faculty of the time-honored old college had on its roll names which will never die, Day, Silliman, Olmstead, and many others, who were mighty in eloquence and theology, like Leonard Bacon and Dr. Taylor, proclaimed the truth with no uncertain sound in the churches on the "Green" from Sabbath to Sabbath.
And the genial Frank Olmstead was recognized by the prisoners as a "Y" man who had been in the interior of Russia in the days when Russians were not fighting Americans but Germans.
Olmstead conducted the proceedings before the coroner, and his questioning of the various witnesses soon developed the theory he had formed, and those who were present listened with surprise as the assumption of Bucholz's guilty participation in the murder of his master was gradually unfolded.
Olmstead, has treated the slope." There was something humorous, and a little pathetic in the contrasted figures of the Vicomte and their hostess crossing the lawn in front of them. Mr. Spence paused a moment to light his cigarette, and he seemed to derive infinite pleasure from this juxtaposition. "Got left, didn't he?" he said. To this observation there was, obviously, no answer.
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