The Ideal

TO THOSE WHO UNDERSTAND

"There was a time when Ocean, Grove and Stream were clothed in a celestial light — the glory and the freshness of a dream."

A winding road through a parched countryside leads to a rare oasis called Diablo. The old oaks greet you on your arrival like hosts of some forgot­ten time. The sheer beauty of the Rowers and the pungent fragrance of their perfume cause you to feel you are in some far-off Arcady. Unmo­lested quail scurry unafraid in your path. A green mantle is spread over all — while the white gold — that water which makes the oasis-soothes your spirit in the heat of the day. Above this oasis there nestles a Jewel Lake unseen and unsuspected until you have climbed a trail which rewards your effort. At night, even without moon or stars, shines that Great Beacon on Mt. Diablo, guiding those birds of the air and sending to you a sense of security and benediction. The morning cry of the birds awakens you to a world of life-and the songs you hear make you want to grasp that happi­ness which seems so near. If you do not hear, sense or see these things you are dull-or else your vision is only of stone walls and city streets. This Diablo needs and has more than nature's loveliness. A jungle is no fit place for human kind — neither is Diablo a paradise without the laughter of chil­dren and the kindly associations of those older ones which have been built up through the years. And because those who are young and old can be there at the same time and enjoy together some of the same things — this Diablo is a Mecca — so near and yet so very far from a workaday world.

August Eleventh, Nineteen Thirty-one.