he had held for Carl. His troubles were largely over. Someone else could
care for the maimed, the halt, and the blind.

It was about this time, too, that Carl got into difficulties with the
intrenched powers on the campus. He had what has been referred to as "a
passion for justice." Daily the injustice of campus organization grew on
him; he saw democracy held high as an ideal--lip-homage only. Student
affairs were run by an autocracy which had nothing to justify it except
its supporters' claim of "efficiency." He had little love for that
word--it is usually bought at too great a cost. That year, as usual, he
had a small seminar of carefully picked students. He got them to open
their eyes to conditions as they were. When they ceased to accept those
conditions just because they were, they, too, felt the inequality, the
farce, of a democratic institution run on such autocratic lines. After
seminar hours the group would foregather at our house to plot as to ways
and means. The editor of the campus daily saw their point of view--I am
not sure now that he was not a member of the seminar.

A slow campaign of education followed. Intrenched powers became
outraged. Fraternities that had invited Carl almost weekly to lunch, now
"couldn't see him." One or two influential alumnæ, who had something to
gain from the established order, took up the fight. Soon we had a
"warning" from one of the Regents that Carl's efforts on behalf of
"democracy" were unwelcome. But within a year the entire organization of
campus politics was altered, and now there probably is not a student who
would not feel outraged at the suggestion of a return to the old system.

Perhaps here is where I can dwell for a moment on Carl's particular
brand of democracy. I see so much of other kinds. He was what I should
call an utterly unconscious democrat. He never framed in his own mind