27 - 



HERE is a picture with a history. It is a photograph of a little 

 rural school away down in southern California. I knew it well. 

 It was in an almost rainless region, with scanty vegetation 

 depending on irrigation. The school was on top of a dry hill, where 

 water for irrigation was impossible. The very idea of raising trees 

 there was absurd. 



But old man Wright was one of the trustees, and he loved the school. 

 He dreamed of it adorned by verdant shrubbery. He planted trees 

 anyhow, despite discouragements. And through the long, hot summer 

 season he hauled water to them with a barrel on a sled. In time the 

 trees struck root so deep they could take care of themselves without the 

 old man's barrel. And the school became a beautiful place, admired by 

 all who passed that way, a pleasure in a desert land, the pride of the 

 people. Trustee Wright has been dead now for lo, these many years. 

 But the beautiful school on the hilltop with its waving trees is a monu- 

 ment to his memory. Isn't it better than granite shaft or marble urn? 



Now what's a story without a moral? The moral of this one is that 

 there's no excuse for squalid, bare, desolate, God-forsaken school grounds 

 anywhere in the length and breadth of this rich and splendid State. 

 When you see such a one it is a glaring sign that there is no one there 

 who loves the school. It is a reproach upon the whole community. 

 For shame ! Why, it would be better for little Betty Jones to plant a 

 tiny acorn or a walnut and carry water to it in a tomato can than to 

 leave the public school naked to the world. 



