Since the organization of the Washington Pioneer Association in October, 1883, the old pioneers and their children have met year by year in the lavish month of June to recount their adventures, toils and privations, and enjoy the sympathy begotten of similar experiences, in the midst of modern ease and plenty. A concourse of this kind in Seattle evoked the following words of appreciation: "No organization, no matter what its nature might be, could afford the people of Seattle more gratification by holding its assemblage in their midst than is afforded them by the action of the Pioneers' Association of Washington Territory in holding its annual gathering in this city. Unlike conventions and gatherings in which only a portion of the community is interested, the meeting of the pioneers is interesting to all. To some, of course, the event is of more importance than to others, but all have an interest in the Pioneers' Association, all have a pride in the achievement of its members, and all can feel that they are the beneficiaries of the struggle and hardships of which the pioneers tell. "The reminiscences of the pioneers from the history of the first life breathings of our commonwealth--of a commonwealth which, though in its infancy, is grand indeed, and which gives promise of attaining greatness in the full maturity of its powers of which those who laid the foundations of the state scarcely dreamed. The pioneers are the fathers of the commonwealth; their struggles and their hardships were the struggles and the hardships of a state coming into being. They cleared the forests, not for themselves alone, but for posterity and for all time. As they subdued a wild and rugged land and prepared it to sustain and support its share of the people of the earth, each blow of their ax was a blow destined to resound through all time, each furrow turned by their ploughshares that the earth might yield again and again to their children's children so long as man shall inhabit the earth. No stroke of work done in the progress of that great labor was done in vain. None of the mighty energy was lost. Each tree that fell, fell never to rise. Each nail driven in a settler's hut was a nail helping to bind together the fabric of the community. Each day's labor was given to posterity more surely than if it had been sold for gold to be buried in the earth and brought forth by delighted searchers centuries hence.