Chapter Vb — Like a Forest Flower. — Anna Louisa Denny
Anna was the fourth daughter of D. T. and Louisa Boren Denny. In infancy she showed a marked talent for music, signifying by her eyes, head and hands her approval of certain tunes, preferring them to all others. Before she was able to frame words she could sing tunes. When a young girl her memory for musical tones was marvelous, enabling her to reproduce difficult strains while yet unable to read the notes. Possessed of a pure, high, flexible soprano voice, her singing was a delight to her friends. Upon hearing famous singers render favorite airs, her pleasure shone from every feature, although her comments were few. On the long summer camping expeditions of the family, the music books went along with her brothers’ cornets, possibly her own flute, and many a happy hour was spent as we drove leisurely along past the tall, dark evergreens, or floated on the silvery waters of the Sound, with perhaps a book of duets open before us, singing sweet songs of bird, blossom and pine tree.
While the other daughters were small and delicately formed, Anna grew up to be a tall, statuesque woman of a truly noble appearance, with a fair face, a high white forehead crowned by masses of brown hair, and a countenance mirthful, sunny, serious, but seldom stern.
A certain draped marble statue in the Metropolitan Museum in New York bears a striking resemblance to Anna, but is not of so noble a type.
Childhood in the wild Northwest braved many dangers both seen and unseen.
While returning late one summer night through the deep forest to our home after having attended a concert in which the children had taken part, Anna, then a little girl of perhaps seven or eight years, had a narrow escape from some wild beast, either a cougar or wildcat. Her mother, who was leading her a little behind the others, said that something grabbed at her and disappeared instantly in the thick undergrowth; grasping her hand more firmly she started to run and the little party, thoroughly frightened, fairly flew along the road toward home.
In this north country it is never really dark on a cloudless summer night, but the heavy forests enshroud the roads and trails in a deep twilight.
Anna, like her sister Madge, was a daring rider and they often went together on long trips through the forest. At one time each was mounted on a lively Indian pony, both of which doubtless had seen strange things and enjoyed many exciting experiences, but were supposed to be quite lamblike and docile. Some reminiscence must have crossed their equine minds, and they apparently challenged each other to a race, so race they must and race they did at a lightning speed on the home run.
They came flying up the lane to the house (the homestead on Lake Union) in a succession of leaps that would have made Pegasus envious had he been “thar or tharabouts.” Their riders stuck on like cockleburrs until they reached the gate, when a sudden stop threw Anna to the ground, but she escaped injury, the only damage being a wrecked riding habit.
Anna made no pretension to great learning, yet possessed a well-balanced and cultivated mind. With no ado of great effort she stood first in her class.
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.