brewing. . . . Thanks to him, strikes were averted; war-work of the most
vital importance, threatened by misunderstandings and smouldering
discontent, went on."

But almost every one who has written for publication has told of but one
side of him, and there were such countless sides. Would it then be so
out of place if I, his wife, could write of all of him, even to the
manner of husband he was?

I have hesitated for some months to do this. He had not yet made so
truly national a name, perhaps, as to warrant any assumption that such a
work would be acceptable. Many of his close friends have asked me to do
just this, however; for they realize, as I do so strongly, that his life
was so big, so full, so potential, that, even as the story of a man, it
would be worth the reading.

And, at the risk of sharing intimacies that should be kept in one's
heart only, I long to have the world know something of the life we led
together.

An old friend wrote: "Dear, splendid Carl, the very embodiment of life,
energized and joyful to a degree I have never known. And the thought of
the separation of you two makes me turn cold. . . . The world can never be
the same to me with Carl out of it. I loved his high spirit, his
helpfulness, his humor, his adoration of you. Knowing you and Carl, and
seeing your life together, has been one of the most perfect things in my
life."

An Eastern professor, who had visited at our home from time to time
wrote: "You have lost one of the finest husbands I have ever known. Ever