CHAPTER I.

SONG OF THE PIONEERS.

With faith's clear eye we saw afar In western sky our empire's star And strong of heart and brave of soul, We marched and marched to reach the goal. Unrolled a scroll, the great gray plains, And traced thereon our wagon trains, Our blazing campfires marked the road As each succeeding night they glowed.

Gaunt hunger, drouth, fierce heat and cold Beset us as in days of old Great dragons sought to swallow down Adventurous heroes of renown. There menaced us our tawny foes, Where any bank or hillock rose; A cloud of dust or shadows' naught Seemed ever with some danger fraught.

Weird mountain ranges crossed our path And frowned on us in seeming wrath; Their beetling crags and icy brows Well might a hundred fears arouse. Impetuous rivers swirled and boiled, As though from mischief ever foiled. At length in safety all were crossed, Though roughly were our "schooners" tossed.

With joy we saw fair Puget Sound, White, glistening peaks set all around. At Alki Point our feet we stayed, (The women wept, the children played). On Chamber's prairie, Whidby's isle, Duwamish river, mile on mile Away from these, on lake or bay The lonely settlers blazed the way For civilization's march and sway.

The mountains, forests, bays and streams, Their grandeur wove into our dreams; Our thoughts grew great and undismayed, We toiled and sang or waiting, prayed. As suns arose and then went down We gazed on Rainier's snowy crown. God's battle-tents gleamed in the west, So pure they called our thoughts above To heaven's joy and peace and love.

We found a race tho' rude and wild, Still tender toward friend or child, For dark eyes laughed or shone with tears As joy or sorrow filled the years; Their black-eyed babes the red men kissed And captive brothers sorely missed. With broken hearts, brown mothers wept When babes away by death were swept.

Chief Sealth stood the white man's friend, With insight keen he saw the end Of struggles vain against a foe Whose coming forced their overthrow. For pity oft he freed the slaves, To reasoning cool he called his braves; But bitter wrongs the pale-face wrought-- Revenge and hatred on us brought.

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With life the woods and waters teemed, A boundless store we never dreamed, Of berries, deer and grouse and fish, Sufficient for a gourmand's wish. Our dusky neighbors friendly-wise Brought down the game before our eyes; They wiled the glittering finny tribe, Well pleased to trade with many a jibe.

We lit the forests far and wide With pitchwood torches, true and tried, We traveled far in frail canoes, Cayuses rode, wore Indian shoes, And clothes of skin, and ate clam stews, Clam frys and chowder; baked or fried The clam was then the settler's pride; "Clam-diggers" then, none dared deride.

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A sound arose our hearts to thrill, From whirring saws in Yesler's mill; The village crept upon the hill. On many hills our city's spread, As fair a queen as one that wed The Adriatic, so 'tis said. Our tasks so hard are well nigh done-- Today our hearts will beat as one!

Each one may look now to the west For end of days declared the best, Since sunset here is sunrise there, Our heavenly home is far more fair. As up the slope of coming years Time pushes on the pioneers, With peace may e'er our feet be shod And press at last the mount of God.

E. I. DENNY.

Seattle, June, 1893.