lectures I attended,
introduced us to Hart's "Psychology of Insanity," several books by
Freud, McDougall's "Social Psychology," etc. I remember Carl's seminar
the following spring--his last seminar at the University of California.
He had started with nine seminar students three years before; now there
were thirty-three. They were all such a superior picked lot, some
seniors, mostly graduates, that he felt there was no one he could ask to
stay out. I visited it all the term, and I am sure that nowhere else on
the campus could quite such heated and excited discussions have been
heard--Carl simply sitting at the head of the table, directing here,
leading there.

The general subject was Labor-Problems. The students had to read one
book a week--such books as Hart's "Psychology of Insanity," Keller's
"Societal Evolution," Holt's "Freudian Wish," McDougall's "Social
Psychology,"--two weeks to that,--Lippmann's "Preface to Politics,"
Veblen's "Instinct of Workmanship," Wallas's "Great Society,"
Thorndike's "Educational Psychology," Hoxie's "Scientific Management,"
Ware's "The Worker and his Country," G.H. Parker's "Biology and Social
Problems," and so forth--and ending, as a concession to the idealists,
with Royce's "Philosophy of Loyalty."

One of the graduate students of the seminar wrote me: "For three years I
sat in his seminar on Labor-Problems, and had we both been there ten
years longer, each season would have found me in his class. His
influence on my intellectual life was by far the most stimulating and
helpful of all the men I have known. . . . But his spirit and influence
will live on in the lives of those who sat at his feet and learned."

The seminar was too large, really, for intimate discussion, so after a
few weeks several of the boys asked Carl if they could have a little
sub-seminar. It was a very rushed time for him, but he said that, if
they would arrange all the details, he would save them Tuesday evenings.
So every Tuesday night about a dozen boys climbed our hill to rediscuss
the subject of the seminar of that afternoon--and everything else under
the heavens and beyond. I laid out ham sandwiches, or sausages, or some
edible dear to the male heart, and coffee to be warmed, and about
midnight could be heard the sounds of banqueting from the kitchen. Three
students told me on graduation that those Tuesday nights at our house
had meant more intellectual stimulus than anything that ever came into
their liv