“But other things we keep, none the less.  The stimulus and impetus and inspiration are not lost, and shall not be.  No one has counted the youngsters he has hauled, by the scruff of the neck as often as not, out of a slough of middle-class mediocrity, and sent careering off into some welter or current of ideas and conjecture.  Carl didn’t know where they would end, and no more do any of the rest of us.  He knew he loathed stagnation.  And he stirred things and stirred people.  And the end of the stirring is far from being yet known or realized.”

I like, too, a story one of the Regents told me.  He ran into a student from his home town and asked how his work at the University was going.  The boy looked at him eagerly and said, “Mr. M——­, I’ve been born again! ["Born again”—­those were his very words.] I entered college thinking of it as a preparation for making more money when I got out.  I’ve come across a man named Parker in the faculty and am taking everything he gives.  Now I know I’d be selling out my life to make money the goal.  I know now, too, that whatever money I do make can never be at the expense of the happiness and welfare of any other human being.”

CHAPTER XI

About this time we had a friend come into our lives who was destined to mean great things to the Parkers—­Max Rosenberg.  He had heard Carl lecture once or twice, had met him through our good friend Dr. Brown, and a warm friendship had developed.  In the spring of 1916 we were somewhat tempted by a call to another University—­$1700 was really not a fortune to live on, and to make both ends meet and prepare for the June-Bug’s coming, Carl had to use every spare minute lecturing outside.  It discouraged him, for he had no time left to read and study.  So when a call came that appealed to us in several ways, besides paying a much larger salary, we seriously considered it.  About then “Uncle Max” rang up from San Francisco and asked Carl to see him before answering this other University, and an appointment was made for that afternoon.

I was to be at a formal luncheon, but told Carl to be sure to call me up the minute he left Max—­we wondered so hard what he might mean.  And what he did mean was the most wonderful idea that ever entered a friend’s head.  He felt that Carl had a real message to give the world, and that he should write a book.  He also realized that it was impossible to find time for a book under the circumstances.  Therefore he proposed that Carl should take a year’s leave of absence and let Max finance him—­not only just finance him, but allow for a trip throughout the East for him to get the inspiration of contact with other men in his field; and enough withal, so that there should be no skimping anywhere and the little family at home should have everything they needed.