It was Mr. Cocke's custom in those days to send a group of girls in the omnibus to the Sunday morning service of one of the churches in Salem. Such was the economic stress of the period that a handsome new hat in the school produced a sensation. Fortune crowned one of the students with a beautiful headgear. She wore it to church, and generously, on the following Sunday put the treasure on the head of a comrade who was going up to worship. So the ornament became a regular attendant at the Salem services. Gathered at the church doors were the Salem boys, of course, and they soon became merrily interested in the new hat. One day after service, the girls found in the omnibus a note, inquiring: "Who does that hat belong to?" The owner lives, today, in Blacksburg, Va. Those trips to Salem ceased long ago, and now in the Hollins Chapel, regular Sunday evening services are conducted by chaplain pastors from the various denominations. In the spring of 1865, pneumonia became epidemic in the school, taking off six of the pupils and two more in their homes. This disaster caused a suspension one month before the close of the regular term. With the fall of the Confederacy, Mr. Cocke had again to face a condition that seemed the mockery of his hopes. Everywhere were economic prostration, social disorganization, and pinching poverty. Shall Hollins keep up the fight? Will the sun of Austerlitz ever rise on her long and varying battles? What young Institution ever threaded its way through a wilderness so gloomy or by pits and precipices so dangerous? Hollins will go on, walking by faith, and its doors shall not be closed, even for the part of a session. That is the mind of the President. He and his faculty, though exhausted in means, will face the destitution and never give up the ship. The session of 1865-6 ran on with forty-five students. Rates had to be increased, and even with that, the college would have been compelled to close but for a timely loan from Colonel Tayloe to buy food. This noble friend and President of the Board of Trustees had been a comfort to Mr. Cocke from the beginning, and will continue so for thirty years more. Our great leader did not talk about his troubles, being always master of himself. Once he made this brief pathetic admission to his Trustees: "I am so burdened that I do not feel fit for my work." What can move us to tears like a strong man's grief? And there stands the ghastly figure of the unfinished Main Building, mocking his struggles and dreams. For five years now, pine boards have been nailed up to cover the windows, and not even a porch relieves the monotony of its ugliness. Two alternatives were before him: first, reduce the faculty, which is a most deplorable thing to do; second, go on as we are, but that is bankruptcy and ruin. Hear him: "I will go on; I will trust in God and the people." He insisted to his Trustees: "We must not descend to the character of a neighborhood school." Their