IT IS related of Lord Byron that when a boy in school he, with his fellows, was required to write a paraphrase of the Biblical account of the miracle of turning water into wine; within a few moments he handed to his teacher this line: The conscious water saw its God and blushed. Nothing could have been added which would have strength ened or added beauty to the matchless setting. May we not, in humble imitation of that great genius, say of Im perial Valley: Its fruitful soil was caressed by the wasting water of an unregarded river and blossomed in perennial beauty? The magic touch of the life-giving water was not an accident. It followed the most intense and unremitting efforts of big brained, big souled men, who wrought under such difficulties and discouragements as would have daunted smaller men. What heroes they were, and how richly they deserve the crowns today so grudgingly bestowed, but which the future will surely bestow upon them.