At "Sarobia"

For U. S. birds, insects, small animals, weeds, poets and artists, there exists no snugger sanctuary than "Sarobia," a 175-acre estate in Pennsylvania's Bucks County, on the Delaware River above Philadelphia. "Sarobia's"' gateposts are topped by big black iron cats, and ignorant Bucks County-ites have sometimes whispered that "cat-worshippers" and '"heathens" live on the estate. Actually the owners of the place, whose first names are the basis of its name, are two exceedingly gentle, wellborn Philadelphians. White-haired Robert Restalrig Logan has for 25 years been president of the American Anti-Vivisection Society, is a vegetarian and dislikes to have his guests brush down a spider web or swat a mosquito. His wife, Sara Wetherill Logan, was exhorted by the late Theosophist Annie Besant a decade ago to "try an experiment in character-building" and discharge her servants.

Mrs. Logan did not discharge all her servants, but aside from kitchen help who cook the vegetables and wash the dishes, "Sarobia" is run on the inside by the Logans and their guests, and the fact that Mr. Logan believes that the estate should be as near to weedy nature as possible makes things easy for the outside servants. On "Sarobia's" grounds are 13 houses and cabins, one a guesthouse named "Runcible" after a Logan cat. and another a onetime roadhouse near the highway. In these live indigent poets, artists, thinkers, mostly obscure folk. Last week, on his annual visit to the Logans, arrived a more famed guest, Hindu Jiddu Krishnamurti, who had just returned from Europe.

Once hailed by Annie Besant as a "World Teacher" who had in him the same "Christ Force" as did Jesus, Krishnamurti has renounced Theosophy and in fact all systems, dogmas, labels, ties, organizations. Wandering continually about the world, he holds meetings for people who are interested in learning his mystic way of life and thought, as some 3,000 were this summer at the annual camp meeting he holds at Ommen, Holland, on property given him by a Dutch nobleman. His friends--he dislikes the word "disciple" because "one who is a disciple is already bound"--call him "Krishnaji," an honorific title roughly meaning "Sir Krishna." Last week, looking nearer 20 than 42, with a few streaks of gray in his thick black hair, Krishnaji refreshed himself at "Sarobia" chiefly by playing vigorous, bounding badminton. This week some 60 picked believers will be allowed to meet with him for a fortnight of discussions at "Sarobia." Then he goes to Ojai, Calif., near which a corporation devoted to his interests owns property, but he no longer intends to hold public meetings there.

What the world can learn from Krishnamurti if it cares to (his attitude now is take-it-or-leave-it), he stated as simply as he could last week: "Most people today are committed either to science or religion, but I want to strike a balance between the two."

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