Blazing the Way; Or, True Stories, Songs and Sketches of Puget Sound

At a notable celebration of Decoration Day in Seattle, she was chosen to walk beside the teacher at the head of the school procession; both were tall, handsome young women, carrying the school banner bearing the motto, “Right, then Onward.”

It was to this school, which bore his own name, that her father presented a beautiful piano as a memorial of her; it bears the words, from her own lips, “I believe in Jesus,” in gold letters across the front.

In 1888 she accompanied her family across the continent to the eastern coast, where she expected to be reunited with a friend, a young girl to whom she was much attached, but it was otherwise ordered; after a brief illness in New York City, she passed away and was brought back to her own loved native land, by the sun-down-seas. Afar in a forest nook she rests, where wildwood creatures pass by, the pine trees wave and the stars sweep over, waiting, watching for the Day toward which the whole creation moves.

They wandered through the wonderful forest, by lake, fern-embroidered stream and pebble seashore, gazed on the glistening mountains, the sparkling waves, the burning sunsets, shining with such jewel colors as to make them think of the land of hope, the New Jerusalem. And the majestic snow-dome of Mountain Rainier which at the first sight thereof caused a noted man to leap up and shout aloud the joy that filled his soul; they lived in sight of it for years.

It might be asked, “Does the environment affect the character and mental development, even the physical configuration?” We answer, “Yes, we believe it does.” The fine physique, the bright intellectuality, the lovely character of these daughters of the West were certainly in part produced and developed by the wonderful world about them. Simple, pure, exalted natures ought to be, and we believe are, the rule among the children of the pioneers of Puget Sound and many of their successors.

In this time of gathering up portraits of fair women, I cannot help reverting to the good old times on Puget Sound, when among the daughters of the white settlers ugliness was the exception, the majority possessing many points of beauty. Bright, dark eyes, brilliant complexions, graceful forms, luxuriant hair and fine teeth were the rule. The pure air, mild climate, simple habits and rational life were amply proved producers of physical perfection. Old-timers will doubtless remember the handsome Bonney girls, the Misses Chambers, the Misses Thornton, Eva Andrews, Mary Collins, Nellie Burnett, Alice Mercer, the Dennys, noticeable for clear white skin and brilliant color, with abundant dark hair, Gertrude and Mary Boren with rosy cheeks and blue eyes; Blanche Hinds, very fair, with large, gray eyes, and others I cannot now name, as well as a number of beautiful matrons. Every settlement had its favored fair.

Perhaps because women were so scarce, they were petted and indulged and came up with the idea that they were very fine porcelain indeed; they were all given the opportunities in the reach of their parents and were quite fastidious in their dress and belongings.

Of the other children of D. T. and Louisa Boren Denny, John B. is a well educated and accomplished man of versatility, a lawyer, musician, and practical miner.

D. Thomas is an electrician; was a precocious young business man who superintended the building of an electric street railway when under twenty-five years of age.

Victor W. S., a practical miner, assayer and mining expert, who has been engaged in developing gold and silver mines. Abbie D., an artist and writer, who has published numerous articles, a fine shot with the rifle and an accomplished housewife; and E. I. Denny, the author of this work, who is not now engaged in writing an autobiography.

All, including the last mentioned, are fond of wild life, hunting, camping and mountain climbing, in which they have had much experience and yearly seek for more.

CHAPTER Vc.

ONE OF THE COURAGEOUS YOUTHS

William Richard Boren was one of the boy pioneers. He was born in Seattle on the 4th of October, 1854.

The children necessarily shared with their parents and guardians the hardships, dangers, adventures and pleasures of the wild life of the early days.

When his father, Carson D. Boren, went to the gold diggings, William came to the D. T. Denny cottage and remained there for some time. As there was then no boy in the family (there were three little girls) he stepped into usefulness almost immediately. To bring home the cows, weed in the garden, carry flowers and vegetables to market, cut and carry wood, the “chores” of a pioneer home he helped to do willingly and cheerfully.

Every pair of hands must help, and the children learned while very young that they were to be industrious and useful.

It required real fortitude to go on lonely trails or roads through the dark, thick forest in the deepening twilight that was impenetrable blackness in the wall of sombre evergreens on either hand.

Some children seem to have little fear of anything, but it was different with William; he was afraid; as he graphically described it, he “felt as if something would catch him in the back.” But he steadfastly traveled the dark trails, showing a remarkable quality of courage.

His sensations cannot be attributed to constitutional timidity altogether, as there were real dangers from wild beasts and savage men in those days.

He would often go long distances from the settlement through the great forest as the shadows were darkening into night, listening breathlessly for the welcome jingle of the bells of the herd, or anxiously to snapping twigs and creaking of lodged trees or voices of night-birds. But when the cattle were gathered up and he could hear the steady tinkle of the leader’s bell, although to the eye she was lost in the dusk in the trail ahead, he felt safe.

He calmly faced dangers, both seen and unseen, in after years.

By the time he was twelve or fourteen he had learned to shoot very well with the shotgun and could bring home a fine bunch of blue grouse or “pheasants” (ruffed grouse).

Late one May evening he came into the old kitchen, laden with charming spoils from the forest, a large handful of the sweet favorite of the pioneer children, the lady’s slipper or Calypso Borealis, and a bag of fat “hooters” for the stew or pie so much relished by the settlers.

The majority of the pioneer boys were not expected to be particular as to whether they did men’s work or women’s work, and William was a notable example of versatility, lending a hand with helpless babies, cooking or washing, the most patient and faithful of nurses, lifting many a burden from the tired house-mother.

He was a total abstainer from intoxicants and tobacco, and to the amusement of his friends said he “could not see any sense in jumping around the room,” as he described the social dance. It surprised no one, therefore, that he should grow up straight and vigorous, able to endure many hardships.

William was a very Nimrod by the time he reached his majority, a fine shot with the rifle and successful in killing large game. As he came in sight one day on the trail to our camp in the deep forest, he appeared carrying the blackest and glossiest of bear cubs slung over one shoulder. I called to him, “Halt, if you please, and let me sketch you right there.” He obligingly consented and in a few moments bear, gun and hunter were transferred to paper. And a good theme it was; with a background of dark firs and cedars, in a mass of brightest green ferns, stood the stalwart figure, clad in vivid scarlet and black, gun on one shoulder and bear cub on the other.

William Boren was an active and useful member of the M. E. or “White Church” in Seattle many years ago. This was the first church established in Seattle.

He removed from the settlement and lived on a ranch for a number of years.

For a time in youth he was in the mining district; while there he imposed upon himself heavy burdens, packing as much as two hundred pounds over the trail.

This was probably overexertion; also in later years, heavy lifting in a logging camp may have helped break his naturally strong constitution.

Many muscular and vigorous persons do not realize the necessity for caution in exertion. I have seen strong young men balancing their weight against the “hold” of huge stumps, by hanging across a large pole in mid-air.

During his ranch life he was waylaid, basely and cruelly attacked and beaten into insensibility by two ruffians. Most likely this caused the fatal brain trouble from which he died in January, 1899, at the home of his sister, Gertrude Boren, who through a long illness cared for him with affectionate solicitude.

“O bearded, stalwart, westmost men,
A kingdom won without the guilt
Of studied battle; that hath been
Your blood’s inheritance.
“Yea, Time, the grand old harvester,
Has gathered you from wood and plain.
We call to you again, again;
The rush and rumble of the car
Comes back in answer. Deep and wide
The wheels of progress have passed on;
The silent pioneer is gone.”

CHAPTER VI.

ARTHUR A. DENNY

(Born June 20th, 1822, Died January 9th, 1889.)

A ponderous volume of biography could scarcely set forth the journeyings, experiences, efforts, achievements and character of this well-known pioneer of the Northwest Coast. He was one of the foremost of the steadfast leaders of the pioneers. A long, useful and worthy life he spent among men, the far-reaching influence of which cannot be estimated. When he passed away both private citizens and public officials honored him; those who had known him far back in his youth and through the intervening years said of the eulogies pronounced upon his life, “Well, it is all true, and much more might be said.”

A. A. Denny was a son of John Denny and brother of David Thomas Denny; each of them exerted a great influence on the life and institutions of the Northwest.

From sketches published in the local papers I have made these selections:

“The Dennys are a very ancient family of England, Ireland and Scotland. The present branch traces its ancestry from Ireland to America through great-grandparents, David and Margaret Denny, who settled in Berks County, Pennsylvania, previous to the revolutionary war. There Robert Denny, the grandfather of A. A. Denny was born in 1753. In early life he removed to Frederick County, Virginia, where in 1778 he married Rachel Thomas; and about 1790 removed to and settled in Mercer County, Kentucky.

“There John Denny, father of the deceased, was born May 4, 1793, and was married August 25, 1814, to Sarah Wilson, daughter of Bassel and Ann (Scott) Wilson, who was born in the old town of Bladensburg, near Washington City, February 3, 1797. Her parents came to America in an early day.

“Their paternal and maternal grandparents served in the revolutionary war. The former belonged to Washington’s command at the time of Braddock’s defeat.

“John Denny was a soldier in the war of 1812, being in Col. Richard M. Johnson’s regiment of Kentucky volunteers. He was also an ensign in Capt. McFee’s company, and was with Gen. Harrison at the battle of the Thames, when Proctor was defeated and the noted Tecumseh killed. He was a member of the Illinois legislature in 1840 and 1841, with Lincoln, Yates, Bates and others, who afterwards became renowned in national affairs. In politics he was first a Whig and afterward a Republican. For many years he was a Justice of the Peace. He died July 28th, 1875, when 83 years of age. His first wife died March 21st, 1841, when 44 years of age.

“About 1816 John Denny and his family removed to Washington County, Indiana, and settled near Salem, where Arthur A. Denny was born June 20th, 1822. One year later they removed to Putnam County, six miles east from Greencastle, where they remained twelve years, and from there went to Knox County, Illinois. Mr. A. A. Denny has said of his boyhood: