such a worshiper at the shrine of William James and John Dewey, we often
used to laugh at his Berlin profanity over the very idea of ever getting
a word of such "bunk" into his head.

But think of the strain it all meant--lessons and lessons every day, on
every subject under heaven, and in every spare minute continued grinding
at his German, and, of course, every day numerous hours at the
University, and so little time for sprees together. We assumed in our
prosperity the luxury of a maid--the unparalleled Anna Bederke aus
Rothenburg, Kreis Bumps (?), Posen, at four dollars a month, who for a
year and a half was the amusement and desperation of ourselves and our
friends. Dear, crooked-nosed, one-good-eye Anna! She adored the ground
we walked on. Our German friends told us we had ruined her forever--she
would never be fit for the discipline of a German household again. Since
war was first declared we have lost all track of Anna. Was her Poland
home in the devastated country? Did she marry a soldier, and is she too,
perhaps, a widow? Faithful Anna, do not think for one minute you will
ever be forgotten by the Parkers.

With Anna to leave the young with now and then, I was able to get in two
sprees a week with Carl. Every Wednesday and Saturday noon I met him at
the University and we had lunch together. Usually on Wednesdays we ate
at the Café Rheingold, the spot I think of with most affection as I look
back on Berlin.

We used to eat in the "Shell Room"--an individual chicken-and-rice pie
(as much chicken as rice), a vegetable, and a glass of beer each, for
thirty-five cents for both. Saturdays we hunted for different smaller
out-of-the-way restaurants. Wednesday nights "Uncle K." of the
University of Wisconsin always came to supper, bringing a