Digging to the Roots of a Dying Tree 39 



verted it into a paradise of beauty, comfort and utility. 

 To-day it is the joy of the multitude; the pride of a 

 great democracy; the meeting ground where all social 

 distinctions disappear for one blessed day in an atmos- 

 phere of universal good will, for these lawns and flowers 

 and trees, these smiling lakes and winding roads, these 

 Dutch windmills, ponderously turning with the Trade 

 Wind, these effigies of the great, holding the precious 

 Past in firm hands of bronze, these wonders of the 

 world's zoology, these museums bursting with the treas- 

 ures of Art and Science assembled from the far corners 

 of the earth — these belong to all, to our common hu- 

 manity, as much as the sky that bends above them, as 

 much as the sunshine and the tonic air. 



And this is wealth, spiritual wealth — the very bread 

 of life! 



Go there for the band concert Sunday afternoon and 

 sit on the comfortable benches under the trees with ten 

 thousand enthralled music lovers about you — other 

 thousands within hearing on the wide lawns. The* 

 Municipal Band, backed by a massive sounding board, 

 faces the throng. Over them, two great flags unfold 

 in the breeze. You see them, and you are thrilled — 

 they mean so much ! One is the starry flag, planted on 

 the western border of the Republic; the other, the glori- 

 ous Bear Flag of California. You think of the Argo- 

 nauts — yes, and of San Francisco, the city that rose on 

 stepping-stones of its dead past in three brief years, 

 meanwhile singing a song of "The Finest Ruins." 



The golden hours pass in an atmosphere that may 

 only be described as one of genuine spiritual exaltation. 

 You are lifted out of yourself, out of the sordid things 



