Copy of an article that appeared in The Saturday Evening Post in 1920 entitled Keeping Tabs on the Great: In the

year 1898, when the Boy Orator of the Platte travelled to Chicago in a day coach and sold his "Crown of Thorns and Cross of Gold" I graduated from printers' devil into long trousers and the editorial sanctum. Having the courage of youth and not being the least superstitious, I established a Republican newspaper in a rock-ribbed Democratic State of the Solid South on a working capital of thirteen dollars. With the combined wisdom of a Dana, a Bannett and a Raymond, I proceeded to enlighten my rural subscribers as to the utter fallacy of Mr. Bryan's sixteen-to-one panacea, and at the same time to boost with all the superfluous adjectives at my command the merits of Mark Hanna's full-dinner-pail. Since that day I have been engaged in the fascinating, if not highly remunerative, occupation of interpreting presidents, politicians, and plutocrats for the populace. As an emissary of the public, for that is just what a newspaper reporter is, I have recorded for your edification, or to satisfy your human yearning for gossip and scandal, the acts of commission and the acts of omission of men and women who have run the social scale from statesmen and diplomats, society leaders and grand opera singers, to longshoremen, gunmen, chorus girls and London barmaids. In the last quarter of a century, I have enjoyed close friendly contact with men and women who have found an enduring place in history. On the other hand, I have mingled freely with those who have for a day or for & week basked in the sunshine of publicity or those who have bowed their heads in shame when the record of their misdeeds had found its place on the printed page. I have walked with those who wore the purple and fine linens; only the next hour to listen to the plaintive outbursts of the the man in sackcloth. I have stood by with note book in hand to record chapters of joy and humor, of pathos and of tragedy. Four Presidents I have known intimately, and they were all made of the same common clay as your next door neighbor. In other words, they were human. It has been said that no man is a hero to his valet; and the newspaper reporter, because of the close personal contact he enjoys, seldom becomes a hero worshiper. He is sometimes inclined to question your judgement of the men you select for the pedestal. I have been peculiarly fortunate in my association with two of America' s really great men-Theodore Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson. I have travelled with them for weeks and mouths at a stretch; I have visited in their homes; have lived with them in the narrow confines of a Pullman car or an ocean liner, I have had ample opportunity to observe them under every sort of condition. I have witnessed their triumphs and I have been with them in their hours of sorrow and disappointment. I have dined with Mr. Roosevelt in a miner's humble shack in the heart of the anthracite region when he was happier than he would have been at the table of a crowned head. I sat with Dr. Wilson before the glowing logs . in his library at Princeton on the night he was first elected President. I have been with him when it was impossible to penetrate his glacial armor. I have found him on other occasions as human and chummy as Douglas Fairbanks. I helped push Orville Wright's motorless glider from the sand dunes when he made his successful flight at Kill Devil Hill. I stood on the deck of a battleship when the American fleet bombarded Vera Cruz. I saw the British bring down the first German Zeppelin. I kept the all night vigil at Sing Sing when Gyp the Blood [Harry Horowitz (1889 13April1914)] and his three gunmen pals were shot into eternity at the break of dawn. I remained with Dr. Cook when he came out of the frozen north to be received as a conquering hero until he disappeared with the hoots and jeers of his fellow countrymen ringing in his ears. These things I cite to show that there is little monotony in the life of a newspaper reporter. Through

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it all, I have found that the average man and women takes to publicity as naturally as does a duck to water. To some it is as essential as is sunshine to vegetation. There are politicians who would rather be deprived of food and drink than to be denied the pleasure of seeing their names in public prints. This weakness is by no means confined to politicians. The butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker all thrive on printers' ink. There are those, of course, who pretend that they object to having their names appear in the columns of the newspapers. In all of my experience, however, I have met only one person who impressed me as being sincere in advancing such an objection. That man was J. Pierpont Morgan, the elder. On one occasion I obtained a lengthy interview with Mr. Morgan. It was one of the very few tines that the great financier ever permitted himself to be quoted by the press. My good fortune came about in a peculiar way. Back in 1906, when President Roosevelt was bringing every possible pressure to bear on Congress to enact into law the pending railroad rate measure, I was spending a pleasant evening at the old Press Club in Pennsylvania Avenue indulging in what our English friends are wont to call "drawing poker". There were seven of us in the game when "Jack" Tinker, one of the regulars, came over to the table and informed me that Mr. E. H. Harriman had Just gone to the White House for a conference with the President. I was then connected with the Associated Press and was responsible for "covering" night conferences at the White House, and they were numerous during the Roosevelt administration. Not suspecting that Tinker was giving me a false "tip" in order that he might take my seat in the game, I immediately "cashed in" and hurried to the White House. "I have been trying to locate you," was the greeting I received from the chief usher, Mr. Hoover. "The President wishes to see you in the library." When I stepped into the room, I was surprised to find the President laying down the law to Mr. Morgan in a most emphatic way. The subject under consideration was the railroad rate legislation. Mr. Morgan seemed puzzled by my intrusion, but the President kept up his rapid-fire conversation and ignored my presence for ten minutes. Then, turning suddenly, he said: "Here, Mitchell, I sent for you to say that Mr. Morgan wishes to give you a statement bearing on the Hepburn Bill. You may say that Mr. Morgan conferred with the President and that a satisfactory agreement has been reached with reference to changes in the pending legislation, which will make the law less objectionable, in Mr. Morgan's opinion, to the railroad owners and bondholders." Bidding farewell to the President, Mr. Morgan hurried from the White House. I trailed at his heels and followed him into a one-horse cab of the sea-going type so familiar in Washington in the early Nineties. Without any word from Mr. Morgan, the old colored driver proceeded to the Hotel Arlington, just across Lafayette Park. When the cab came to a halt at a side entrance of the hotel, Mr. Morgan, whom I had been unable to engage in a conversation, asked me to wait for him. Carrying a big Gladstone bag, be rejoined me a few minutes later and we continued on to the old Pennsylvania station, 6th and B streets. Still the great man treated my every attempt to question him with silence. When we reached the station, Mr. Morgan, straining under the burden of the heavy luggage, which he refused to surrender to an eager red cap who had recognized him, led the way through the iron gates of the train shed, and into a private car. Once inside the car, the banker promptly drew the window shades; taking from his inside coat pocket a long sheet of foolscap paper, he unfolded it and, still ignoring my presence, proceeded to read and reread the statement he had prepared at the White House. Replacing the statement in hie inside pocket he carefully buttoned his coat. With a worried look on his face, he paced back and forth for the length of the car. I had a strong hunch that he was debating as to whether he should permit the statement to leave his hands. Finally, turning to me, be said: "You understand, young man, that if I give you this statement it is to be used

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without any change whatsoever." When I assured him that he need have no fear on this score, Mr. Morgan handed me the statement and dismissed me with a cordial handshake. After a careful study of Mr. Morgan's statement, which had been written by the banker with a pencil and edited by the President with a pen, I prepared an introductory paragraph telling of the conference between the President and Mr. Morgan, and then quoted the statement in full. With the ending of the quotation marks, I continued for a column or more explaining the significance of the agreement entered into between the President and the man whose authority to speak for the financial interests of the country was unquestionable. Mr. Morgan sailed the next day for Europe; in due course the Hepburn Bill was enacted into law. Shortly after midnight I returned to the Press Club. Two of the players had dropped out of the game and Tinker gave me the laugh. "Did you find Mr. Harriman?" he asked, "No," I replied, "I had to content myself with a column and a half interview with J. P. Morgan." "Yes," he laughed. "It does beat Sam-Hill how that old pauper is always trying to get his name into the newspapers." And the "drawing poker" ran merrily on until about one thirty o'clock when two of the players, one of whom was Tinker, received telegrams from their offices. Tinker's managing editor wired: "Why did you not send story of Morgan's conference with Roosevelt? A.P. had nearly two columns. Rush new lead for city edition." Unable to pry the information from me, Tinker had no alternative other than to confess to his office that be bad been beaten on the story. Morning newspapers throughout the country featured the Associated Press story. The New York Sun, owned by Mr. Morgan and which did not have an A.P. franchise didn't have a line of the important news. Another big figure in the financial world who for many years had a strong aversion to newspaper publicity was Mr. Edward H. Harriman, considered by many as the greatest railroad genius the country has ever produced. In the later years of his life, however, Mr. Harriman completely changed about face after be had discovered that it was good business to take the public into his confidence. Once convinced that be could depend upon the reporters not to violate bis confidence, Mr. Harriman seemed to take great pleasure in talking to the newspaper men whenever be had any important information to impart to the public. My first contact with Mr. Harriman was also in Washington in 1907. He had for nearly a week been under cross-examination at a rate hearing conducted by members of the Interstate Commerce Commission in New York. When his testimony had been completed, he came to Washington with his daughter, Mary, now Mrs. Rumsey, for a rest. They were stopping at the Willard Hotel, but were not registered. I received a "tip" that Mr. Harriman was occupying a certain suite on the fourth floor. The management denied that he was guest of the hotel. Going direct to the suite, I found the door open. Do you wish to see father?" Miss Harriman asked me. Answering her question in the affirmative, I was escorted into an adjoining room were I found the railroad magnate seated in a window alcove overlooking Pennsylvania avenue. He was in immaculate Bond Street attire and was enjoying an after dinner cigar. Introducing myself and explaining the object of my call, Mr. Harriman courteously declined to be interviewed. He detained me however, and for the next half hour, he seemed to find much amusement in interviewing the interviewer. He asked questions on every imaginable subject. He discussed the President and other men in public life with as much freedom as though I bad been one of his intimate business associates or a personal friend. Although this was subsequent to the famous, "You and I are practical men" episode at the White House, Mr. Harriman did not have an unkind word to say of the President.

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As I was taking my leave, after assuring Mr. Harriman that I would make no mention of his presence in Washington since it was his desire to be relieved of all business cares during his stay, he turned to me with a twinkle in bis eye, and asked; "Are you a stenographer?" "No," I replied, "but if you wish to change your mind about giving me an interview I will find a stenographer." And will you give me an opportunity to revise the stenographer's transcript?" he asked. "Certainly," I replied. "With that understanding I will dictate for you a statement covering some of the matters which I was not given an opportunity to fully explain in my testimony before the Interstate Commerce Commission." In the lobby of the hotel, I met Harry N. Price, a stenographer to a government official and now a political writer for a Washington newspaper. Mr. Price agreed to take the interview in shorthand. Mr. Harriman dictated several thousand words, his statement was given prominent display by all the newspapers of the country. So pleased was the railroad magnate with the manner in which the newspapers had handled the interview, he received a delegation of fifteen to twenty Washington correspondents every day thereafter for a week. It was a new experience for him and he seemed to find a keen delight in setting himself right before the American people. While in Europe in the Summer of 1909, Mr. Harriman suffered a physical breakdown. After consulting specialists at Munich, he returned to New York on the Kaiser Wilhelm II, arriving on August 24. Attended by his family physician, Dr. William Gordon Lyle, and nurses, he was removed to Tower Hill, his beautiful mountain-top estate at Arden, in Orange county, New York, where, he died a few weeks later. News of the serious illness of the great railroad builder and financier was the cause of much excitement in the Wall Street district. Reporters and news photographers flocked to Arden. There they found that Tower Hill had been practically isolated from the outside world. Approach to the castle was by a privately owned incline railway and by a winding automobile road. Sentries had been stationed at these points by the superintendent of the estate, and only members of the family, intimate personal friends and business associates were permitted to get within a mile of Mr. Harriman's home. Telephone communication with the house was suspended in so far as the newspaper correspondents were concerned. Because of these restrictions, no person could leave the estate without being questioned by the reporters. Alarming reports as to Mr. Harriman's physical condition were being circulated in the village. These were telegraphed to some of the newspapers. Eminent surgeons were summoned, and there were rumors that the railroad magnate was to undergo an operation. Finally, we succeeded in establishing contact with Mr. Harriman's home through his close personal friend, ex-Governor Benjamin B. Odell , who resided at Newburgh, a few miles up the Hudson River. Governor Odell would communicate each evening by telephone with Dr. Lyle and obtain from him a bulletin for the press. This arrangement, however, did not prove satisfactory. Dr. Lyle's bulletins were of the most optimistic tenor, which was entirely contrary to the information we were receiving through our private "grapevine" sources. In a dilemma as to how we were to reconcile the official bulletins with the advices we were obtaining through other channels, the reporters for half a dozen of the conservative newspapers, who were determined to get at the facts, finally drafted a "Round Robin" letter and succeeded in smuggling it past the army of sentries, doctors and nurses and into the hands of the sick man in his palace on top of the mountain.
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"Owing to the sensational stories from irresponsible sources," the letter to Mr. Harriman read, "the undersigned representatives of the New York morning newspapers ask that you issue an authoritative statement in respect to your physical condition. Nothing but that can refute these alarming reports. We enclose with this letter an article published today. Another report has it that an operation was performed last Friday, and that yesterday was the first day you have been out since Friday. Please send your reply to us at the foot of the incline at four o'clock this afternoon." This letter was written on the morning of August 30, just ten days before the death of Mr. Harriman, and was signed by Frederick S. Pitney, New York Tribune, A. M. Chapman, New York World; Roscoe C. Mitchell, New York Herald; John B. Pratt, New York Times; Shepard A. Morgan, New York Sun, and Thornton S. Hardy, Associated Press. Back came an answer at the appointed hour. It had been dictated by Mr. Harriman to his daughter, Miss Mary, and was written in longhand on correspondence note paper. On the top marginal border, Mr. Harriman in a bold, firm hand, had penned the names of the six correspondents, and had attached his own signature. His letter read: I am pursuing the course laid out before I went abroad and advised by the physicians. I intended taking a rest as soon as my responsibilities would permit. My treatment abroad reduced my strength and vitality and weakened my digestion. The most expert physicians in Munich advised me to have an examination by surgeons as a matter of precaution. "This has been done very carefully by Doctors Brewer and Crile in conjunction with Doctors Walker, James, and Lyle, and the whole result is that they find nothing serious, and renew the advice previously obtained that I should have rest and not see many people at this time, and this I am trying to do. "This covers the whole case, and later on, if the representatives of the press desire and there is any purpose to be accomplished, I will see them up here, but now I ask that the surveillance of the operations of my home be withdrawn, not so much on account of my family or myself, but that the coming and going of my friends may not be interfered with. "I appreciate the interest shown in my welfare by the press and by friends in all sections, and perhaps by some others. If there was or should be anything serious I will let the press know and as I have never deceived them I ask that the press now withdraw its representatives and rely upon me. E. H. Harriman." There were many correspondents on the ground who had not signed the "Round Robin" letter, and some of these were opposed to acceding to Mr. Harriman's request. A conference was called, and after a long session we succeeded in winning over all the reporters with the exception of three who represented afternoon newspapers. After receiving permission from our editors to return to New York, we sent to Mr. Harriman this telegram: "In reply to your letter, we beg to inform you that the representatives of all the newspapers, both morning and afternoon, will return to New York this evening. We thank you for your courtesy and heartily congratulate you on your improvement. We hope that it will continue and that in the near future we shall have the pleasure of seeing you back at your desk in New York City." Within twenty-four hours after our return to New York, the three correspondents who had remained in Arden were ordered home by their city editors. The newspapers had every faith in Mr. Harriman and they were willing to play the game fairly with him. There was no desire to annoy members of his family or to cross question his visitors. If, on the other hand, Mr. Harriman was critically ill, it was the business of the newspapers to keep the public fully advised. He was one of the most commanding figures in the railroad and financial world.

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There was more than mere curiosity in the public's interest. But with the newspaper men Mr. Harriman's word was as good as his bond, and hadn't he given his assurances that he would notify the reporters in the event that there should be a change for the worse in his condition. And on his death bed, Mr. Harriman kept this compact with his newspaper friends. Word was flashed to Mr. Pitney, of the New York Tribune, and myself, to return to Arden. Appreciating the full significance of the summons the message was passed down the line to all the reporters. That night we were back on the job, and we remained at Arden until several days later when Judge Robert H. Lovett, the railroad magnate's closest friend and business associate, came down to the foot of the railway incline and met the assembled reporters. "Gentlemen," he said, "Mr. Harriman passed away at five minutes after three o'clock this afternoon. It was his desire that you gentlemen be promptly advised." And, three days later, as the great pipe organ in the village church sounded the notes of his favorite hymn, "Rock of Ages Cleft For Me, Let Me Hide Myself In Thee," the mortal remains of Edward E. Harriman were laid to rest in a grave hewn into solid granite in the little churchyard at Arden. Reporters, who stood side by side with the great men of Wall Street, statesmen, simple village folk and the day laborers on the estate, as the body was placed in its final resting place, mourned the loss of a friend who had kept the faitheven unto death. And in the dim flicker of a candle light, I wrote the story that night of the passing of one of the most colossal geniuses this country has ever produced. It was never difficult for reporters to reach Mr. Andrew Carnegie on important matters. It was necessary to communicate with his secretary, Mr. Bertram, and arrange an appointment and at the same time explain just what subject the Ironmaster would be asked to discuss. World peace was, of course, his pet hobby. For several years before his death, he made it a practice annually to receive a large delegation of reporters and photographers on the anniversary of his birth. On these occasions the canny little Scotchman would let down the bars and discuss any subject from the boll weevil to Jim Ham Lewis' pink whiskers. He was interested in ths success of young men, and took particular delight in advising reporters to learn the lesson of thrift. One of my newspaper colleagues, "Jack" Binns, the wireless operator hero of the steamship Republic disaster, who is now on the staff of the New York Tribune, was on one occasion summoned to the Laird of Skibo's Fifth avenue mansion. Hurrying forth with the expectation of receiving a good news "beat", Binns was somewhat surprised to find that the multimillionaire wished to borrow $12,000. Binns wrote his check for the amount, and he later showed me Mr, Carnegie's promissory note written in the Ironmaster's own hand on a sheet of embossed correspondence paper. Here is how it came about: Several months after the sinking of the Republic, when Binns flashed the first P.D.Q. (now the Continental: S.O.S.) and remained at his post until the passengers had been rescued by the steamship Baltic, Mr. Carnegie was returning from Europe on a trans-Atlantic liner when he learned that ths young Republic hero was the wireless operator on his ship. Mr. Carnegie called at the wireless cabin and had a long chat with the young Englishman. He was much impressed by the modest demeanor of Binns, and was especially pleased that the wireless operator had declined to capitalize his harrowing experience by refusing to accept a fabulous sum offered him by a moving picture concern to re-enact the scene on the sinking passenger liner. Several months after his return to New York, Mr. Carnegie addressed a letter to Binns, who in the meanwhile had accepted employment as a reporter on a New York newspaper, and enclosed his personal checkas I remember it was for fifty dollars. He explained to Binns that
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after investigation he had found that no provision had been made by the Carnegie Hero Funds to reward such an act of heroism on the high seas, and that therefore, he had decided to place Mr. Binns' name on his private list, and that a check would be mailed to him monthly, or quarterly, in recognition of his distinguished valor in remaining at his post of duty when the lives of the Republic passengers were imperiled. In a courteous note, Binns thanked the man of millions, but returned to him his check. He informed Mr. Carnegie that he could accept no reward for doing what was clearly his duty. Later, Binns had obtained a judgement and collected $18,000 damages from a moving picture concern because of the fact that this company, without Binns' knowledge or consent, had distributed a film purporting to show the young wireless operator flashing the P.D.Q. distress call from an ocean liner. The picture was, of course, of another young man who had been used by the moving picture people to impersonate the wireless hero. Mr. Carnegie had learned through the newspapers that Binns has collected the $12,000 in settlement of his suit. He probably thought he saw an opportunity to invest the amount to advantage for the young man, and at the same time to give him his personal note as a guarantee against loss. I have seen little of Binns in recent years and never learned how much the investment netted him. There is one experience I had with the Ironmaster which is worth relating here. I had been given a copy of a cable from Berlin relative to some move made by the then Emperor William looking to the promotion of world peacethis was before the outbreak of the World War. My city editor had requested that I ask Mr. Carnegie to comment on the cable dispatch. I located Mr. Carnegie at a meeting of the Civic Federation at the Hotel Astor, where he was seated at an improvised table with the other speakers of the afternoon. When the meeting had concluded and the guests were departing, I rushed over to the speakers' table to have a word with the Ironmaster. Just as I spoke to Mr. Carnegie, I was surprised to see him dart suddenly on all fours under the table without acknowledging my greeting. Puzzled by such a maneuver on his part in the eluding of a reporter who wished to discuss with him his pet hobby of world peace, I recovered my wits and pursued my quarry to his place of refuge. As I crawled under the table, I espied the Ironmaster on hands and knees and a worried look on his bearded countenance. Before I could delve further into the mystery, Mr. Carnegie's face was beaming. Getting back on his feet, he displayed a quarter and a dime. Happy as a ten-year-old on a Christmas morning, he explained: "I had taken ten cents from my pocket to give to the hat check girl at the door. When you spoke to me, I dropped the coin. Now, I have recovered my original coin and an additional twenty-five cents. I tell you, boy, it's better to be born lucky than rich." Mr. Carnegie's comment on the Berlin cable ran one paragraph on an inside page. On the story of the lost dime, the city editor gave me a column "spread head" on the first page.

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Hackley and Fitch In 1798 the Hackley and Fitch families came from Connecticut, driving ox team to the new home in New York State. They stopped first at the site of the City of Utica, but thinking the soil not so good for farming as might be found in the valley of the Unadilla River, they passed on twenty miles south and located at what has been for many years Hackley Street. There were children in these companies of whom your great-great grandmother, then Sylvia Hackley, was one. She had a sister who later married Mr. Turner of Bridgewater. She was the great-great grandmother of Professor Willard Marsh of Hamilton College, An older one, a brother John, became a doctor and was living at more than eighty years of age in 1870. His great-great grandson Carlton Hackley now lives where Dr. Hackley's home and farm then were. Sylvia Hackley, your grandfather Trippe's grandmother, married Mr. Stetson, a watch maker. He went to war and perished, as was supposed, as he was never heard from after. Their little daughter, Mary Eliza, was the beloved mother of your grandfather. Later she, Sylvia Stetson, married one of the Pitch family who emigrated from Connecticut. She had a large family: George, Peabody, Charles, Julia, and Augusta. Julia married Mr. McFarland and lived in Batavia. Her oldest daughter is "Cousin Mary" Foster. Augusta married Mr. Light. Of her two children her son died and "Cousin Sylvia" Barnard was the daughter. Uncle Peabody lived in the old home on Hackley street and there your grandfather when in college spent many a happy vacation. In the home were two young people, twins, Florence and Clarence, and "Floy" was my very dear friend during the time I was in the home of the Howlands in Bridgewater, and through this friendship I met "Morton", your grandfather. In our first home in Augusta Grandmother Pitch visited us during the first year of our married life. She was then 89 years of age but well and happy. She died the following year.

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The Trippe Family Bennett Trippe (called Lot) of Duchess County, N. Y., was your great-great-great grandfather. His son William came to Huron, Wayne County, N. Y., and there married Abbie Pettingill. When their little son, Thomas Jefferson, who was born in 1802, was a few months old his father, William Tripp, started west on horseback but never returned. It was learned later that a man trying to ford the Genesee River near Rochester, on horseback, had been drowned. Jefferson Trippe, who was later your grandfather, being fatherless, spent in the home of a family by the name of Camp who lived in Sangerfield, NY. large family of little children, but Jefferson was always willing to help of the baby or scrub the floor or do anything to make life easier for the he grew up with the Camp children as one of them at home as at school. He loved to study and so in time became an excellent teacher. his boyhood There was a take care others, so always

When he was grown and before he began to teach he lived with Dr. Mathers of Utica, NY, and helped in his office. Here he had the opportunity to study Latin which he taught in his country schools. He used to tell us of his interest in his school in the country such that the young folks would come to the schoolhouse evenings in sleighs with candles for lights to study by. In 1885 your grandfather attended General Assembly in Cincinnati and there met the president of a western college who told him that he owed all he was in life to a teacher in Utica whose name was Jefferson Trippe. In 1856 he married Mary Eliza Stetson of Bridgewater, Oneida Co, NY. I will tell you of her family later on. They lived in Utica for twenty years where he taught select school during that time and also sang bass in the choir of the First Presbyterian Church. They bought a home on Blandina Street, a short street off Genesee. In 1907 I walked alone on that street where the homes looked unchanged for many years, being rather small, white with green blinds; and the flagstones of the ancient sidewalks seemed to be the same that were first laid there. That was a very happy home in every way except that sickness and death came, taking away three little children, George Herbert, aged two months, Mary Elize aged eighteen months, Mortimer aged five years. Your dear grandfather came to them in their loneliness September 15, 1847. He must have been a very bright, joyous little boy if we can judge by his after life. Morton Fitch Trippe (your grandfather) was left motherless when only two and one-half years old. His mother before leaving him gave him to God to be a minister. Morton's boyhood was not the happy life he would have lived if his mother had been in the home. He had a stepmother whom he loved but she was not the choice type of his own mother. As he grew older he loved to get away by himself by the brook and the trees where he felt that his own mother was near him in the quiet. He loved to study and especially to read history. The four volumes of Allison's History of the World which his father had were his delight. He knew that his mother wished him to be a minister, but he did not want to be until he was a young man, when he gave his life to God after reading Dick's Christian Philosophy. He then wanted nothing so much as to preach the gospel and do all in his power, God helping Him. He felt the need of a college and theological education, and had no preparation but that of the "district school". His pastor, Rev. Mr, Craige, offered to instruct him during

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the summer so that he might enter college in the fall. So we walked four miles to Rose each morning and back to his home at North Rose each afternoon and worked with all his power. The college entrance examination could not have been passed except for his very excellent knowledge of history. As it was, he entered "conditioned", but four years later was graduated as a Phi Beta Kappa man. He entered college with only one suit of clothes, and $10 given him by his dear friend Deacon Flint who stood by him in every great emergency. For a time he worked for his board and roomed at the college-then he lived on bread and milk until his strength gave out. During vacations he sold Webster's Dictionary, earning the watch he carried till death besides a commission on sales, Science and the Bible was a book in which many were interested, so one summer he earned $600 selling that. So with much self-denial he completed the course, under the instruction of such men as Dr. Upson as Elocutionist, and others of note. One may judge of the character of the student by his choice of the subject for prize speaking - "Christian Enthusiasm". The Theological Course at Auburn Theological Seminary was marked by enthusiasm and ability. He went out to various places to preach during his first year. The second year he was pastor of the church at Fairville, Wayne Co., NY, and here there was a revival which brought persons of very substantial character into the church. During the latter part of his third year he preached at Augusta, Oneida County, NY, and received a call to be pastor of the church there, where he was ordained and installed in June, 1875. We were married three weeks previous, May 18, 1875, and came to the parsonage which he and the dear people had made ready for us, opening our home with Grandfather Trippe as a happy member of the family May 20th. We were all very happy in the home and among the people of that locality, but four years later it seemed best to accept a call to Sodus, Wayne County, which was but a few miles from the old friends of years previous at Huron and Rose, so grandfather was most happy. Two years later, early in 1881, your grandfather was requested to come to the western part of the state to spend a Sabbath where he was needed for a large and needy field. He wrote us quite to our surprise that he was entertained at the home of Rev. Henry Silverheels and had preached to an audience of Indian peoplethat there were five reservations of Indians of whom he had never hearda big old mission house with large yard, orchard, and land to keep a cow and horse, You may imagine our surprise, but after taking time to consider, we decided to go and arrived in that home May 7, 1881. The story of 35 years in connection with this work I hope to tell later.

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19 Hancock St. Binghamton, N. Y. June 15, 1948 Dear Bertha: I have intended to write you ever since Christmas, and now you see I have something to send you. Maurice went to the annual conference in April and when he returned told us he had been transferred to Newton, PA. He had to be there to preach the following Sunday, and received a card from Wm. Dorsheimer that he was to stay at his house over Sunday. Mary Elsie went with him and I told them to ask Mr. D. if he was related to Carrie Dorsheimer. He said he was just her son. Well, then they did visit, and they were all so interested to know about all the "cousins". Maurice has the church at Newton, Milwaukee and Schultzville. All the Dorsheimers are in the two churches except Mary, she goes to Clarks Summit church. I was down there for Mother's Day and Monday Maurice took me over to Will's. They had asked Mary to come over and they were showing me pictures, etc., and when I glanced thru the enclosed article I said I would like a copy and I thought Edith and Ruth would. Lulu said she was sure you would, so here it is. I guess I am about third or fourth step-cousin but I think the reason we, or my mother anyway, kept in touch with them was because of Aunt Avis Monroe living with the family. Of course you are twice related, and this gives quite a history of the Olmstead family. In the room Maurice and Mary Elsie occupied, the marriage license of Carrie and her husband was on the wall and your father's signature was on it, as one of the witnesses. Horace and his wife came over while we were there, also Mary's son and wife and little boy. Mary said she would be alone this summer as her daughter and husband were moving to a cottage they had fixed up for year round use. She gave me an urgent invitation to spend a few days with her. She and her mother visited us one time in Sauquoit. I didn't see Avis, I think she is in the Schultzvllle church. Maurice said he was talking with one of the church folks and he said the Dorsheimers are "the cream of the crop" around there. Their orchard was in full bloom and just beautiful. We drove all through it. The country is beautiful all around these places, and the parsonage is the nicest they have had. They have a new furnace and Sat. night a truck drove up with a beautiful GM Frigidaire. They had always used an ice box and in Gibson didn't even have that, so they were delighted. While they are on their vacation the women are going to do over the bedroom floors, and paint the walls. They both are in love with the places and the people and I hope they stay until Margaret is at least through one year of school. She will be four next month but I don't know when they take them, think it is at five years of age. She would go on the bus. They have a fine high school in Newton and the grade school was right next to it but it burned last year and they have held school in the church. They hope to have the new one ready by fall. There are no stores in Newton and I imagine it will be rather lonesome in winter. They are 6 miles from Clarks Summit and 8 miles from Scranton. They were up here two weeks ago to attend a wedding, a friend of Mary Elsie's, and left the children with the Gunn's and spent the night there, then called on me on their way home. I had all my household goods in Greene and they were all moved with them. I have just a room now, have my breakfast and can have other meals if I want to. Am with a widow lady who lives alone, she is very nice, but I am too far away from the bus if I had to depend on it to get to work. Am hoping to find something in the part of the city where I used to live, and a job of some kind. I am going down to Newton next Monday for a week or ten days. Marilyn is perfectly well physically, but she is 17 months old and still doesn't sit up all alone. They went to a chiropractor near here all winter and he helped her right along and gave them the name of one in Scranton and he has helped her still more. She will now roll clear over onto her stomach but can't get back alone. She has improved so much that they have hopes of her being O.K. in time. I wonder if you heard of Ernest's death. I haven't heard from Floy but Edith wrote me he was the same as Fletcher but didn't suffer so long. She expects Floy next week and wanted me to come up but I had planned to go to PA so think I will. I may be sent for as they are having an epidemic of chicken pox and Margaret has been exposed and Mary Elsie said if she got sick she would like to have me come and keep Marilyn from getting it. The doctor here, baby specialist, told her she would be much more susceptible to diseases than she ordinarily would. They saw him just before they moved and he said, "I have done all I can for her, she is in the Lord's hands now". They had never told him they were going to a chiropractor.

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Edith wrote me she had her garden made and house-cleaning done, so I guess had gotten rested up from her trip. She had to go to bed for two days after they got home. I think part of it was worry over John. He had an attack of his old bladder trouble when in Fla. and they thought he might have to have an operation, but didn't. It was a good thing Isabel was with them. Ruth hasn't been very well, is dieting for sugar, and Clark has had two slight strokes. They have sold their upper place and a good many of their cows. Their youngest boy has just built a new home and moved in last month. Well, this is quite a "spiel" and I think I'll stop. Hope you and all the rest are well and that I will hear from you some time. Didn't some of you plan a trip north this summer? You could come up to Edna's and then stop in Clarks Summit and if anyone ever did and would let me know I'd be down there. Love to all, Lucy Mary Elsie's address is: Mrs. Maurice A. Gunn R. D. #2 Clarks Summit, Pa.

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HOLMES Asa Holmes of Vermont was your great-great grandfather, being the father of my father, Rev. William Eaton Holmes. Asa Holmes married Avis Dent who died when their little daughter Sarah or Sally was a little child. Later he married Johanna Bicknell (the mother of my father, William) and still later Ruth Abbott. My father's mother had eight children. The oldest, Avis, died when seventeen years old. The family felt great esteem for her. There were fourteen children in all. Their names were: Sally, Avis, Edmond, Ralph, Eliza, Harriet, William, Asa, Ariel, Johanna, Abigail, Alice, Asa, Mary. Ariel, the youngest of Johanna Bicknell's children, was a lumber merchant in Littleton, NH, in 1870. My father was very fond of his sister Sally all his life and kept in close touch with her and her family who lived in Bridgewater, NY. During his boyhood he was with his grandmother much of the time and felt that through her influence he became a Christian when he was eight years old and later entered the ministry. He married (first) Mary Eusebia Niles, daughter of Judge Niles of Vermont, who at one time was consul to France. They were first settled over a church at St. Johnsbury, Vermont. Of their three little children two boys died, but the little daughter, Mary, lived to be a joy to her father though the mother passed away when Mary was but three years old. She was put into the home of sister Sally at Bridgewater for a time, though Avis Monroe, daughter of "sister Sally" (my Aunt Sally, Mrs. Howland's mother) kept house for my father and the little girl three or four years. In 1846 my father married Caroline Olmstead, my mother, of whom I told you. She died February, 1855; sister Mary, March, 1855, and he left us May 9, 1867. In the cemetery at North Bridgewater all of these relatives are buried and your great-grandfather Trippe was also laid there beside his wife Mary Eliza and their three little children. A monument marks the site, the names of your greatgrandfather and mother and their three little children placed on one side and the names of your great-great grandmother and the other members of her family on the other three sides.

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This story was written because of the request of the nineyear-old grandson, Samuel Sykes Board, Jr., for an adventure. He is the son of S. S. Board and Mary Trippe Board of Hempstead, L. I and it was during a visit of his Grandmother Trippe at their home in May, 1925, that the request, "Grandmother please tell me of an adventure" led to the writing of the story which was kindly copied by her niece, Grace Dorsheimer. Sarah L. Trippe, August, 1925. ---*---*--Hempstead, NY March 5, 1925 My Dear Samuel: You asked me to tell you of an adventure, so, thinking there is no greater adventure than the story of a life, I am telling you about a life of which I know more than of any otherthat of your Grandmother Trippe, and other relatives of yours. Into the home of Rev. Wm. E. Holmes of Davenport, Delaware County, New York, on June 18th, 1850, arrived a little daughter whom they named Sarah Louise after my father's oldest "Sister Sally and my mother's sister Louise. I think my father and mother, my two sisters and my brother, were very happy over the baby as they were very lonely just then because our five-year-old brother Walter had died only six weeks before after a sickness of only a few days of scarlet fever. He was a lovely boy with light curls and he had been in school only one day, coming home very happy because he wore the medal which the best child in school had the privilege of wearing home. My other brother was "Willie" aged seven and my sisters were Mary aged seventeen, and Carrie, aged three. The home I remember was at Oneida Valley, and one and one-half miles from Oneida Lake, New York. My recollections are of Sunday) first of my brother's dog, Fido, playing around just as we were ready to start for church when I told him the little verse I had learned: "I must not work, I must not play Upon God's holy Sabbath Day." for we were taught to be very quiet on that day. Then I remember going to church wearing a little grey cloak my mother had made me and I burned a long brown spot on the front as I stood by the hot wood-stove. Our mother used to sing to us Sunday afternoons and I remember sitting with her and sister Carrie at the west window while as she sung to us the old hymn, "Come Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove," the sky was full of glory from the setting sun. After that I was alone one Sunday with her as she stood by the window looking up into the sky with an expression oh her face which startled me,, and she did not reply when I spoke to her. Later on I knew that she was thinking that she must go to heaven soon and leave us all. One day she took my little sister Carrie and me to her room and, sitting with one each side of her, she told us that she was going to heaven, and she prayed and sang the hymn below with us and then told us she wanted us to promise that after she had gone we would sing every say the hymn beginning with the verse, "Lord, teach a little child to pray; Thy grace betimes impart, And grant thy Holy Spirit may Renew my sinful heart." I was then only four and a half years old, and as the months passed on I forgot all but the first verse. This made me very sorry indeed, as I felt I had not kept my promise to my mother.

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At this time, when my my sister Mary was 21 plan to have her stay unexpectedly, she was

father and mother knew that my mother could not stay with us, years of age. She had been teaching for some time but now the at home and care for the family was a great comfort, but, very taken ill and lived but four weeks after our mother died.

Years after when I was grown up I heard of the comfort which came to our mother when she was grieving because she and Mary must both leave us, Our cousin Avis was in our home, and one morning as she looked up when she came into the room, she said; "Avis, now I know God can take better care of my children than Mary could!" Both Mother and Mary are buried at Oneida Valley, a double marble slab marking the spot. I was so little then I did not miss my mother as did my sister and brother until after years when father's work as home missionary took him away from home much of the time, then I was lonely, but I was happy if he was near. The summer after the breaking up of our home we were happy with out mother's sister, Aunt Laura, who had a pleasant home near Oneida Lake. She was the mother of Cousin Fannie Howland of Kaolin, Pa. Aunt Laura was a very affectionate woman. My father then became pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Georgetown, Madison County, New York, and we three children boarded in the homes of kind people there. My brother was taken on the farm of an excellent family by the name of Dryer. Here my father met one whom he realized would be an excellent mother for his children, and he married her after two years' acquaintance. During that time I spent a very happy year with my grandparents at Walesvllle, New York. My grandfather, Walter Olmstead, had a mill for making paper which was only across a large yard from his home with a gravel path leading from one to the other, and by the path from the front of the house were great willows which grandfather had planted when he built his home sixty years before. Back of the house were the same 3ort of great trees, their branches sweeping the roof. There was no place in the world so dear as "Grandpa's", and while our mother lived we all went to see "Grandma" once a year. In that home fourteen children had been born, and my mother, Caroline, was the fifth. Three brothers, Walter, Orson, and Leonard, and a sister, Harriet, were older. Emeline married Eason Chester who was a lumber dealer at Reading, Michigan. Their descendants now live there, Mrs. Ophelia Spaulding, Miss Emeline Walls, and others. In my grandfather's later years his three elder sons had charge of the paper mill, and, during the winter of 1857-8 sixteen of us cousins lived in that village, all but three being in school together. Now in 1925, 67 years later, eight of those cousins are living, and I, nearly seventy-five years of age, am the youngest of the eight, of whom one lives in Los Angeles, Calif., one in Florida, two in Nebraska, two in New York State, and two in Pennsylvania. Thus we are scattered, but six of us keep in touch by correspondence. My grandfather, Walter Olmstead, was the son of Lieutenant James Olmstead who served in the War of the Revolution, 1782. I have told of the marriage of my father to Miss Henrietta Dryer. This brought about a great change with us as we left our relatives and moved to Bald Mount, Pennsylvania, where my father became pastor of the Presbyterian church. We were all happy in the new home together, though often lonely for the old home and for relatives we loved. The parsonage was situated close to a chestnut grove and was a pretty house with many locust trees and flowers about it. Here I celebrated my eighth birthday by wearing roses in my circle comb as I went to school. Brother William was a merry-hearted youth of sixteen whom every one enjoyed. The

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second winter, when he was seventeen, he went to school at Wyoming, earning his way by oaring for a furnace in the home where he was much liked. He would have liked to continue in this school, remaining in the same home, but when summer came he went to work for a farmer whose family were dear friends of ours. (Emmanuel Dorsheimer) Mother felt that every boy should have a few years training on a farm, and my father, always seeking a home of his own, bought a small farm and a yoke of big black oxen to help clear and work the land. It was not a joyful task for a young man of eighteen to plow stony hillsides with slow oxen, but he did not complain; still, as the Civil War was raging and recruits were called for, he, with a friend, Allen Collum Sheridan, enlisted and later served in the Signal Corps under Generals Hooker and Sheridan. In all his following years he was very deeply interested in the welfare of his country and the town in which he lived, Bloomsburg, Pa., where for years he was a member of the Council or Mayor. To his efforts are due much of the beautifying and betterment of that county seat. He married Christine Baumgardner, and of their five children three sons, William D., Fred, and Edward, are located in Bloomsburg; also two daughters, Bessie (Mrs. Kevin Yost) and Christine (Mrs. Samuel Connor). My sister Carrie married A. D. Dorshsimer December 28, 1870. They live ten miles from Scranton, Pa., on a fine farm which is the result of many years of endeavor. They and their family have had much to do with creating and building up the moral and religious tone of that section. Of their seven children two sons, William and Horace, are still in the home with the parents who four years ago celebrated their golden wedding. One daughter, Lulu, is at home after for years being connected with the I. C. S. of Scranton. Grace is in government service in Washington, D. C., Cora married Rev. R. F. Lesh, Mary married Thomas J. Davis, of Clark's Summit, and Avis married Harry Hopkins of Schultzville. My own marriage to Rev. Morton Fitch Trippe, May 15, 1875, followed a correspondence of four years while he was completing his college and Theological Course, During that time I was attending the Bloomsburg Normal School, or teaching. We, were married at the home of my sister and went immediately to live at Augusta, Oneida County, New York, where we were greeted by many kind expressions of love, for my husband preached for that church for several months beforehand, coming from the Theological Seminary at Auburn, N. Y., each week. This was a country parish where the people were mostly farmers and well-to-do and every one came to church, so the large church was well filled every Sunday and the prayer-meeting room each Thursday evening. At one time in the haying season, when farmers must work early and late, I counted eleven men present. Your grandfather was a man with a great loving heart, which won the affection of his people, and he had unusual ability as a thinker and preacher, so he held the interest of thinking men and stirred them also to the depths of their souls because of the intense and deep religious experience of his own life. As we were only eight miles from Hamilton College there were more college-trained men there than in most farming sections, and several of our young men were then in college. During much of our first year there we called frequently at the homes of the people, and your grandfather's prayers in homes of sorrow seemed wonderful from the way he talked with God. The 18th of May, 1876, our little daughter Flossie (Florence) came into our home. Your grandfather's father lived with us from the time of our marriage too his death. His joy on the birth of a grandchild was very great for he had buried all his children when they were small and before Morton was born. Your grandfather, Morton, was always frail so he had hardly expected him to grow up, but to have him live and prepare to bo a minister and be settled over a church so successfully and then to have a child was about all his heart could wish. As Flossie grew older it was a

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pretty sight to see her in her little white bonnet riding in her little buggy with Grandpa's help. She was a child of a sunny spirit and very fond of music. When only four years old she would stand by the Instrument and with her tiny fingers play the tunes of hymns she had heard sung in church or family worship. Flossie was never very strong but her sweet and loving spirit was like sunshine in the home. When she was eighteen years old her health failed and she left us September 9, 1895. Her talks with us before she left us were so sweet and comforting we felt that heaven came so near that she was near always, because she was with God and God was with us; we simply could not see into heaven. Another dear little daughter, Carrie May, happy, vigorous child, but died Sept. 19, grandfather was so brokenhearted over the continually for three weeks, saying "Poor to heaven where she doesn't know anyone!" was given us February 12, 1878. She was a 1881, from membraneous croup. Her death of this dear child he grieved little Kittie must be lonely going away off

I did not feel, that way for I had told the little one about Jesus, and when she could not breathe I said Mamma cannot help you but Jesus can, Kittie!" So when she breathed her last I felt that Jesus came and took her out of my arms into his own and that the sight of his face of such wonderful love would be heaven for any little child. For myself I gained a new Idea of Jesus which helped me. It was the thought of His wonderful love in dying so as to take away the darkness of death even from a little child. After her grandfather had sorrowed for three weeks he came to the table one morning looking so peaceful and happy, and folding his hands on the table, he said: "I am not going to eat any breakfast until I tell you of a vision I had last night." "I thought I was looking out of my window away to the top of the Petersburg Hills and I was surprised to see the whole distance for miles covered with people in beautiful shining garments. I thought 'Perhaps this Is heaven and maybe Kittie is near, so. I can speak to her," so I went nearer and just a little way inside I saw her looking so happy and dressed as were the others in shining clothes." "So I spoke to her and said, 'Kittie, are you lonely?' She came to me and answered, "Why no, Grandpa, I am with Grandpa and her three little children!" (Now that touched his heart for he many years before had buried his three little children and their dear mother.) Then Kittie said; "Come In, Grandpa, It is so nice to be here!' "No,"he said, "My clothes are not fit for such a place, but I will come soon." The comfort of that dream or vision never failed the dear Grandpa though he lived for four years more, and though his mind failed, this memory was always a comfort to him as was also his Bible-reading and hymn which he sung each morning. Your dear Aunt Myra was born February 2, 1880, when sister Kitty lacked ten days of being two years old. She was named by her father's cousin Sylvia who later married Horace Barnard, She was less than two years old when Jesus took little Kittie to heaven, and we were very glad to have this dear child to fill empty arms. Myra has always been a source of great comfort, as I told her when she was ten years old and again on her twelfth birthday, that the greatest present I could give her was to tell her she was her mother's "solid comfort". Unselfishness has always marked her life and made her a help and comfort to many wherever she has lived. When in college she organized the "Non-Grumblers' Club" which was said to have changed the tone of the whole college. Myra was born at Sodus, Wayne County, N. Y., where we had moved May 1, 1879. While there a request came to your grandfather to take up work of the mission to the Iroquois Indians in the western part of New York State. Though many friends discouraged his going, telling him he was "Wasting his life", he decided to take up the work, and we went there May 1, 1881. I will tell you about that work in another

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story. We found the Indians very friendly and some of them well educated and refined while others tried to live and believe as their ancestors had in the long ago, though they lived in small frame or log houses instead of Tepees, The men dressed as other men, but the women wore the petticoat and "short gown" which was often decorated with many silver brooches made by pounding silver money into the desired shape of a banner or otherwise. Also for dress-up, beaded leggings and moccasins were worn with a wrap of blue broadcloth which nearly covered the form. The older women among the best families wore this costume to church. Among those who were of the "old party" were Mr. and Mrs. Hemlock. She was a pleasant, kind woman who wore silver brooches all over the deep yoke and down the front of her gown. Following the old custom, I saw her one day with half a bushel of potatoes on her shoulders in a basket attached to a strap which went around her head over her forehead. She carried them this way three miles to her home, walking behind her big strong husband. One day I asked her if she would not be a Christian. "No, she said, "because I want to go to heaven where the Indians go." The old Indians think the white people have one heaven and the Indians another, and no white person except George Washington ever had the privilege of going to their heaven, because he was the Indians' friend. THE MISSION HOUSE The old mission house where we lived had been built in 1845 for Rev, Dr. Wright and his wife at the time the Buffalo Creek Reservation was sold and the Indians and their missionaries moved to the Cattaragus Reservation. The house was very large, as Dr. Wright had a room with a skylight for a printing press, and they made a home for the various missionary teachers of the early times, over the week-end. In the yard were many flowers and trees, and by the side of the yard was a fine apple orchard, so you may imagine how happy your aunts were though they were then only five and three years old. When we went from that house your Aunt Flossie was only eleven years old, but she always loved that home. On September 25, 1884,, a dear son was born to us in that homeyour Uncle Clarence and on July 26, 1886, your Aunt Carrie was also born there. When she was two months old we, I and the children, spent the winter on the hills of Perrysburg because it was a more healthful location. The summer of 1887 we had a happy home in Versailles, but in the fall of that year (November 7, 1887) we moved to Salamanca, as another mission- . ary had been added to the work and your grandfather's choice was to take the four reservations and travel from one to the other so his children might be in school in Salamanca. The new missionary lived on the Cattaragus Reservation at the missionary house, and your grandfather had charge of the four reservations: Tuscarora, 7 1/2 miles from Niagara Palls - Tonawanda, 30 miles east of Buffalo - Allegheny, extending for 40 miles along the Allegheny River (one-half mile each side) and the Cornplanter Reservation in the State of Pennsylvania on the Allegheny River, This made his parish 108 miles from north to south. He spent one Sunday each month on each reservation and arranged to have the meetings kept up by the elders of the Indian churches while he was away. This work required a great deal of travel by railroad or with horse and carriage. He was very kindly cared for while away, by the Indians in their homes when possible, but in time he made a home for himself at Tonawanda and at Cornplanter and carried his food from hornet This was hard for him at times, especially when he stayed a week at a time on the Reservation as he planned to once a year, but the quiet of a place of his own meant much to him. On the Tonawanda Reservation his house was 20 feet square, large enough for his bed, stove, dry wood piled high in a corner, some shelves for a very few dishes with a

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wider shelf for a table in another corner. A large rocker and two plain chairs completed the furnishings of the room.' Instead of a quiet time here as there was at Cornplanter, his time when not at the church or making calls, was filled with calls from the people who wanted to see him about their own lives or about the interests of the church. The home on the Cornplanter Reservation was roomy and pleasant, tinder the shade of the trees. The ladies of the First Presbyterian Church of Warren, Pa., furnished it comfortably, and all our family felt it a treat to go there for a few days occasionally. Your father and mother in their early married life went there for a visit, and your Aunt Myra and Uncle Maynard spent their honeymoon there. To your grandfather there was no place more sacred, for here he was alone with God more than in any other place, he said. The people were all so near that he called on every family every month, sharing all their cares or joys and praying for them. Here, too, he wrote to his oldest grandson, Weston, when he was too small to understand, "Letters from old Cornplanter11. These letters must be typewritten so each of our families may have a copy of them all, I should love to tell you more of the earnest, loving work of your dear grandfather but cannot in this story. This reservation and various places on the Allegheny Reservation were difficult to reach because the broad river ran directly through the Allegheny Reservation and between the railroad on which me must ride in going to Cornplanter and the homes of the people, so in spring and winter when he could not cross the ice he was taken by some skillful Indian in a "John-boat" over the flooded river or between ice floats. During special meetings in the winter I loved to go for a week to stay with him at Cornplanter, or in the summer to drive there with him to stay a few days. The drive of 25 miles along the valley by the beautiful silver river between the ever-changing hills was a delight, especially as we often called at the homes of some of our people along the way. Of some of these dear people I should love to tell you. Your grandfather was a preacher of unusual power and ability and his work as a pastor meant much to the people as his prayers were so direct talks with God and with power. This sense of nearness to God marked his life, and his earnestness was such that a State Secretary of the Y. M. C. A. told, him once: "I feel the need of coming to see you for you are like a spiritual dynamo to me." Because of his ability as a minister among his own race, his friends told him when he thought of becoming a missionary to the Indians, "You are throwing away your life!" but after thirty-five years among them he was sure he had not wasted his life. He entered into glory Sunday at 2 PM, May 17, 1917. Grandfather baptized you a month before his death. When you were four months old, a few weeks later, you and little Mary, only 16 months old, and your dear little mother came to the old home to spend the summer with grandmother. Everything about the house seemed sacred to me that year as every spear of grass came from seed your grandfather had sown and every bush and tree had been planted by him. The house too was planned by him and built under his direction the summer before the birth of your mother February 5, 1890. Your Aunt Katherine who was our youngest child was also born there July 17, 1895. She also entered into the heavenly life from that home January 4, 1916. "Kathie" was always fond of outdoor life find enjoyed all the best things of life in every way. Her death, like that of her. sister Flossie twenty-one years before, was brightened by her joy in the "wonderful way God had helped" her in her life and in long months of illness, and in the thought of the joys of heaven.

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When you were eight months old, November 15, 1916, I went with you and little Mary and your mother to a new home in Springfield, Mass., but Jan. 1st I went to Aunt Mary's home in Depue, Illinois, and stayed there three months while Morton was a little baby. In the spring I came back to the old home in Salamanca where your Aunt Carrie and her family had moved and have been since. During the years which followed I have spent part of every summer with them at the old home, and the other months of each year in your home with Aunt Myra or with Uncle Clarence. I am very happy with all my dear children and grandchildren and love to be with them all, and, while I have often been lonely for the dear home as it used to be when we were all together there, I have the memory of the privilege of such a husband and such dear children. I have not said much about the other children of our family lest I make the story too long. You may be surprised, but our life for and with the Indians was to your grandfather and grandmother a great privilege, not because it was easy, for it was hard worknot because of privileges in the way of social advantages, but because we were "workers together with God". The discouragements were at times very great but our trust in God never failed us, nor the realization that he was very near. "God Our Inheritance" was the text of one of your grandfather's sermons, many of which were powerful in the revelation of the deep meaning of God's Word. Now I have told you you a long story, I will begin another which I am sure you will be glad to hear, as it goes back several hundred years and tells of your Puritan ancestors, the Olmsteads. You may remember I told you the name of my sweet mother was Caroline Olmstead, daughter of Walter Olmstead of Walesville, New York. In the year 1086 when William the Conqueror made a survey of England, an entry was made in the "Doomsday Book" of the Helmstade Manor which with some changes in the spelling as Elmsted and Holmsted is the same place later called Olmstead Hall at Bumpsted-Helion, Essex County, England. In the year 1806 a list of the tenants of the 404-acre manor was translated from the Flemish and recorded. In 1242 Maurice of Olmsted was in possession of the place and it was held by several generations following, from father to son. It then passed into the hands of the knights named Skrene, possibly by inter-marriage. In 1474 this manor with several other estates were owned by Wm. Lord Hastings who was beheaded. Nine years later his property passed into the hands of the widow of King Edward IV. By her gift the property is now owned by Queens College, Cambridge, and it is the oldest edifice in existence with which the Olmstead name is connected. Description of a visit made to Olmsted hall in 1904. "The house is a long low building of stone and plaster. It is surrounded by a moat which has been filled in on one side where the drawbridge was formerly. There are three rooms on the first floor with oaken floors, and beams over head. The jail and scullery are paved with stone. "The kitchen-parlor is fascinating with arched recesses in the stone walls, but the scullery is more so with its stupendous fireplace with a vast chimney from which hang a rod from which kettles and cauldrons used to hang for cooking purposes. There is also a copper oven and a huge beer cooper. Then there is a dairy and a place trellised off for cream. Upstairs are lovely rooms with sleeping ceiling and oaken floors and lovely views from the windows. There is still an unused and broken-down staircase." "About the house is the garden of fruit and nut trees grown into a wilderness, but at the back of the house is a beautiful old vine making the back of the house prettier than the front." "The country is too glorious for description, typical English rural scenery unspoiled by factories or modern inventions."

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"The roads wind about most distractlngly making the journey about twice what it would be 'as the crow flies'. (Six miles from R.R.) During the troublesome times in England following the death of Edward IV we read of John Olmsted of Bumpsted-Helion purchasing the property of Edward Lord Windsor, also the mansion of Stansted Hall. He was Master of Horse to the Earl of Oxford at Castle Heddingham. As he had three daughters we cannot trace ancestry to him. Puritan Ancestors. By the aid of church records we have been able to trace descent from Richard Olmstead born about 1440. His descendant James had three sons, James Jr. born 1550, being father of James the Colonist, also of Richard whose three children, Richard, John, and Rebecca, came to America with their uncle. There were the times when the Separatist Congregation of Scroonby left England and settled for a time in Holland from where the Mayflower set Sail for the New World, arriving May 21, 1620. The Puritans remained in England had a bitter life after Charles I became king, (1625) In 1630 in the county of Essex where the Olmsteds lived a celebrated minister, Rev. Thomas Hooker, a man of great ability and renown, was silenced and to escape imprisonment fled to Holland. It was well he did as he might have suffered the fate of another minister who was pilloried, whipped, branded, slit in the nostrils, and had his ears cut off. After this the Puritans emigrated in great numbers; seventeen ships beat their way across the Atlantic before the close of the year 1630, The emigrants were mostly men of character from the middle class and were professional men or men of large estates. Of the latter class were our honored relatives, James Olmstead and his two sons Nicholas and Nehemiah, his two nephews John and Richard, and his niece Rebacca [sic]. The father, James, had buried his wife and five of his children before this date. Arrival of Olmsteds They arrived in New England on the Lord's Day, September 13, 1632, in the ship Lyon, under Captain Pierce, after a voyage of twelve weeks from Braintree, England, There were on board 123 passengers of whom 50 were children. They settled at first at what is now Quincy, near Boston, but near the close of the year moved to what is now Cambridge, Immediately after settling in Cambridge they sent to Holland for their former pastor, Rev. Thomas Hooker, After securing Rev. Mr. Stone as his assistant he sailed, reaching Boston 'September 4, 1833. James Olmsted was one of twelve men who had been sent out in 1634 to investigate lands along the Connecticut River. In October, 1635, sixty men, women, and children went by land to Hartford taking horses, cattle, etc., arriving there two weeks later, October 29. Almost immediately winter set in and the vessels by which they had sent furniture, provisions, etc., were either wrecked or frozen in the ice at the mouth of the river, so that a winter of extreme suffering followed. With all they could get by hunting or from the Indians, by eating acorns, etc,, they barely escaped famine. Colony at Cambridge Moved to Hartford, 1636 Cambridge was then called Braintree Colony, Rev. Hooker remained there with the colonists three years, then, being dissatisfied with the government of Massachusetts, then a colony, and tempted by the charms of the Connecticut Valley, the colony departed and traveled over a hundred miles through the swamps, thickets, and rivers of the hideous trackless wilderness without a guide, to Hartford. They had no covering but the heavens above nor any lodgings. They drove with them 160 cattle and lived on the milk of the cows. Mrs. Hooker who was ill was borne on a litter. The

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people carried packs, utensils and arms. They were nearly two weeks on the journey. James Olmstead was one of the original proprietors of Hartford and by the distribution of land received 70 acres. He was highly esteemed in the community as may be seen by the offices which he filled, and his name is recorded on the list of "Original and early members of the First Church of Hartford," His house was on what is now Front Street, and in 1835 it was still standing. Now three brick houses are on the lot not far from the gas works. He died there in 1640. Monument at Hartford. A portion of the land assigned to the nephew, Richard Olmstead, had been set aside for a burial ground there, and among many quaint venerable stones, stands a noble monument which was erected in 1835 - "In Memory of the First Settlers of Hartford". Here appear the names of James Olmsted and of Richard who was the founder of another branch of the family in America. The names on this monument "represent the fountainhead of most of the pure streams which have carried American national principles to the furthermost regious of this country," (Fifty-five names on each side of the monument, forty-six on north.) In closing this account of our Puritan ancestors, James Olmstead the Colonist, I will copy the words following the copy of his will: "This codicil shows that James Olmstead's illness was a sudden one and that between himself and his sons there existed so close an affection and sympathy that after his death they gave bequests to his kinsmen and the church as they felt he would have done, and so honorably with the disposition of their inheritance, though not legally bound to do so." I like to note that sense of honor in the blood and think it has been transmitted unpolluted to their descendants. Second Generation. Nicholas Olmsted, born in Fairsted, England, February 15, 1612, married Sarah Loomis of Windsor, Connecticut, September 28, 1640. "Soon after the settlement in Hartford it was evident the Indians were jealous and seemed determined upon the destruction of the infant town, and it became a question whether to abandon the country or conquer the foe. "May 1, 1637, just eighteen months after the settlement was begun, and when there were only 600 souls in the Colony, the Court met and resolved upon war with the Pequots. Ninety men were drafted. "They embarked in three little floats which were to carry them down the river. Six days later they reached the mouth of the river but then sent 20 men back to guard their own defenseless homes. "On the morning of May 26th they were before the fort of the Pequots when the 77 Englishmen, with a party of Mohican and Narragansett Indians, broke the power of the Pequots forever, slaying 600 within an hour. "In three days the little army was home again with the loss of two killed and twenty wounded." From this time the colony had peace for years until King Philip's War. In the history of Richard it is plainly stated that lands had been purchased of the Indians, also that Chief Uncas had such regard for Richard that in his will he gave him certain lands. Richard in his will divided these lands from Joseph Uncas, son of Chief Uncas, among his own sons. Thus it is seen the massacre of the Pequota was not cold-blooded as might at first appear. Both Nicholas and Richard Olmsted received grants of land for services in the Pequot War.

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"Lieutenant" Nicholas Olmsted was a surveyor of highways and was one of a committee of men of note well known in the history of the Colony to regulate the settlement of a plantation in Mattatuck. Lieutenant Olmsted was in active service in King Philip's War in 1675, and was made captain on the occasion of another Indian alarm. Third Generation Samuel Olmsted, born Hartford, Conn,, 1653, died E. Haddam, January 13, 1726. Fourth Generation Samuel Olmsted, born East Haddam, Conn., 1676; died 1747. Fifth Generation. Samuel Olmsted, Born East Haddam, Conn., Sept. 8, 1703; died Jan. 3, 1770. He was captain of a company. Sixth Generation Samuel Olmsted, born East Haddam, Conn; died Sept. 20, 1786. "He was a merchant having vessels at sea." Also a captain. Seventh Generation (244) James Olmsted. Lieutenant in the Revolutionary War, was born in Wallingford, Conn., May 13, 1751, and died Sept. 21, 1811. "He was lieutenant but acting chaplain in the Revolutionary War and afterwards a member of the Society of the Cincinnati." The following is a copy of the Oath of Allegiance when appointed Quartermaster: "I, James Olmsted, do acknowledge the United States of ' America to be free, Independent, and Sovereign States and declare that the People thereof owe no allegiance or obedience to George the Third, King of Great Britain; And I renounce, refuse, and abjure any allegiance or obedience to him; and, I do swear that I will, to the utmost of my power, support, maintain and defend the said United States against the said King George the Third, his heirs and successors, and his and their abbetors, assistants and adherents, and will serve the said United States in the office of Quarter-master of Brigade, which office I now Hold, with Fidelity according to the best of my skill and understanding. "So help me God." James Olmsted, Q,. M. B. Sworn before me this 11th of Nov. 1782 J. Huntington, B. G. The children of Lieut. James Olmsted were: Norman, Mary, James, Nancy, Walter (631) Harriet, Frederick Makin, twin Fannie, Henry, Edmond Beaumont. Eighth Generation. Walter (631) was the grandfather of whom I have already told you. His children, all born at the home in Walesville, were: Walter Hills, Orson, Leonard, Harriet, Caroline, (my mother) Emeline, Louisa, Henry, Laura, James, Mary Ann, Julia Ann, Fanny. (13)

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August 20, 2000 Mr Ray Howland 2866 Livsey Drive Tucker, Georgia 30084 United States ofAmerica Dear Ray, Thank you so much for your letter. Im conscious I've been slow to reply.

15 Scapa Terrace Karori Wellington New Zealand e-mail: tim@mitchconsult.co.nz

It was fascinating to find out about the other children of Harvey and Fannie. The newspaper article about Harvey was very interesting. My father had told me he was a scientific dairy farmer and he had many memories of spending time on the farm - which I guess was in Chester Co. PA during his childhood. He re-called Harvey as a very stern disciplinarian. Dad died in 1996 after a long on and off battle with cancer. My mother is still alive and well living by the seaside ina small community north of Wellington. The fanlily came to New Zealand in 1965 (my mother being a New Zealander) after spending 5 years in Europe (where my older brother Michael and I were born). You may have met my eldest brother Chris or my sister Stephany who were both born in Washington although they would have been very young at the time. After arriving in New Zealand Dad worked as the manager of a local shopfitting firm and then later, in retirement, in various positions for the New Zealand Retailers Federation. One of his roles involved a monthly article in the retail trade newspaper on various aspects of retailing. One of those articles was a wistful remembrance of a country store he would visit while at his Grandparents. Im not sure how much artistic licence he took but the article was entitled "Come Back Come Back Mr Sheehan" - Mr Sheehan being the store proprietor. I'm not sure whether that will ring a bell with any of the older relatives. You may recall that Dad had two children from his first marriage to Katherine. Unfortunately we have lost contact with his eldest son Charles Brousse for many years. His eldest daughter Claudia lives in England in a small village outside of Kidderminster. She is married to Arthur and they have three sons, Andrew, Phil, and Tim, and I think 5 grandchildren. I keep in regular touch with Claudia. Christopher is a partner with an Australasian legal firm. He specialises in Resource Management Law. He is married to Sue and they have one daughter - Peggy - aged 5. He lives in the same village that my mother lives in and commutes to work in Wellington. Stephany has recently returned to college where she has almost completed her degree in Business Administration. She has 3 children Benjamin (21), Jonathan (20), an Jennifer (16). She also lives in Wellington. Michael works for a European investment bank, ABN Amro, in Sydney dealing in global bond securities. He is married to Philippa. I am married to Jan and we have two sons, David aged 17 and Sam aged almost 3 - quite an age gap to keep us busy managing both ends of the childhood spectrum. I too operate a consulting firm. I specialise in project management and systems design in the financial services arena. I have been operating this business for the last two years after several years working in the investment management field. We recently moved back to Wellington after having lived for twelve years in a small rural town about an hours drive from Wellington. As I mentioned the only contact I have had with my American family was through Dorothy. I visited her and her daughter Nancy (and Nancy's son Jon) twice when she was living in Essex. Nancy lives in

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Westport NY still I believe. I never met Dorothy's eldest daughter Susan or her granddaughter Pamela who lives in Georgia. My brother Michael did meet and stay with Pamela and her husband Tom. Pamela and Tom's address is: Pamela and Tom McConlogue 507 Lighthouse Lane, Peachtree City GA 30269 For the Howland Family Bible, Clara died on 26 December 1966 in Abingdon, Virginia. Apart from Dorothy I don't know too much about the fate of Dad's two brothers. His elder sister Helen of course died in the 50's. The last letter he had from Harvey (the eldest) was from Connecticut. Palo moved to California. I recently discovered that he died only in December 1995 at the age of 91. I think that would have shocked both Dad and Dorothy who both believed that he must have passed on some years before. I became interested in the family history I guess about 5 or 6 years ago. Dad was always extremely proud of his American heritage although his knowledge of the family history was limited to what he recalled his parents telling him (most of which came from his mother). Researching from New Zealand is somewhat of a frustration although I must say that American genealogical records on the internet are very good and getting better daily. It's one thing though to amass dates and names and places. Quite another to hear from living relatives and so again I thank you for your letter. I wasn't sure when I posted off the first letter whether it would just disappear into the void or not. I do have plans to make an extended trip to the States with the family at some point - a sort of pilgrimage if you will - to visit the places where my ancestors came from (NY, MASS, CONN for the Howland ancestors) (NC mainly, VA, PA for the Mitchell ancestors). The opportunity to join with you and family in celebrating your mothers birthday would be wonderful although I have to say is unlikely this year. As I mentioned in my previous letter I have a photo of Harvey - taken I guess when he was about 30 and one of Fannie as a child with her parents (from a daguerreotype that Dorothy had). I have attached photocopies of these. If either of these are of interest I am more than happy to have them professionally copied. I will try and organise some recent family photos from this end I always find it fascinating to see the resemblances. My nephew Jonathan bears an uncanny resemblance to Lynn in the photo I have of him with Adda, Bertha, and Clara (at least he did at the same age) and Jennifer bears a strong resemblance to Fannie. I will write and introduce myself to Carey Jo. For now I will stop there. I look forward to hearing from you again. All the best to you and your family. Tim Mitchell

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