When urged to close down his mill, as it was running behind, he said "I can't do it, it will throw a hundred men out of employment and their families will suffer." So he borrowed money, paying a ruinous rate of interest, and kept on, hoping that business would improve; it did not and the mill finally went under. A good many employes who received the highest wages for the shortest hours, struck for more, and others were full of rage when the end came and there were only a few dollars due on their wages. Neither was he a "heartless landlord," the heartlessness was on the other side, as numbers of persons sneaked off without paying their rent, and many built houses, the lumber in which was never paid for. According to their code it was not _stealing_ to rob a person supposed to be wealthy. The common remark was, "Old Denny can stand it, he's got lots of money." The anarchist-communistic element displayed their strength and venom in many ways in those days. They heaped abuse on those, who unfortunately for themselves, employed men, and bit the hand that fed them. Their cry was "Death to Capitalists!" They declared their intention at one time of hanging the leading business men of Seattle, breaking the vaults of the bank open, burning the records and dividing lands and money among themselves. But the reign of martial law at the culmination of their heroic efforts in the Anti-Chinese riot, brought them to their senses, the history of which period may be told in another chapter. From early youth, David Thomas Denny was a faithful member of the M. E. Church, serving often in official capacity and rendering valuable assistance, with voice, hand and pocketbook. Twice he was sent as lay delegate to the General Conference, a notable body of representative men, of which he was a member in 1888 and again in 1892. The conference of 1888 met in New York City and held its sessions at the Metropolitan Opera House. His family accompanied him, crossing the continent by the Canadian Pacific R. R. by way of Montreal to New York. In the latter place, they met their first great sorrow, in the death, after a brief illness, of the beloved youngest daughter, the return and her burial in her native land by the sundown seas. Soon followed other days of sadness and trial; in less than a year, the second daughter, born in Fort Decatur, passed away, and others of the family, hovered on the brink of the grave, but happily were restored. Loss of fortune followed loss of friends as time went on, but these storms passed and calm returned. He went steadfastly on, confident of the rest that awaits the people of God. At the age of sixty-seven he was wide awake, alert and capable of enduring hardships, no doubt partly owing to a temperate life. In late years he interested himself in mining and was hopeful of his own and his friends' future, and that of the state he helped to found. While sojourning in the Cascade Mountains in 1891, David T. Denny wrote the following: