The venerable man, now in his 81st year, had on his hands the great Institution he had so laboriously builded. If he could have called back forty years, the responsibility would have rested on strong shoulders and a confident brain. But the competencies of the earlier years were spent, and age could only plan for the activities in which it should not share. He stood a noble, picturesque figure on the peak of life's work, looking backward with thankful satisfaction, and then wistfully forward into those years when other hands, hearts and brains should shape and guide the Institution. Not with one touch of gloomy foreboding did he make this provision. He believed that his children and grandchildren would loyally cherish his ideals and aspirations. They would hold the legacy sacred, maintain its standards, and keep it true to its aims. In the mellowing days of life's late afternoon this confidence gave him comfort and peace. Human affection played around him soft and tender as summer sunset on the mountains, but it could not be doubted that among the deepest satisfactions of his soul was the conviction that his successors would do him the real homage of preserving the fruitage of his long, unselfish labors. His form was unbent and his physical force gave him hope of ten more years of life. It was not to be. In the summer of 1898 a violent carbuncle brought him perilously near the brink of the great mystery. Two years later, warning symptoms came upon him suddenly. They did not yield to careful treatment, and with premonitions of the end, he decided in January, 1901, to go to the home of his son, Lucian H. Cocke, in Roanoke. This arrangement was his own device. He thought thereby to save Hollins from the anxiety which his illness would create, and from the shock of its probable end. What could be lovelier than the two letters that follow? "Hollins, Virginia, February 21, 1901. "Our Dear Mr. Cocke:-- "We, the members of your Faculty,--or rather of your great household here at Hollins,--deeply touched by your never-ceasing thought of us, and your intense interest in the work of our classes which prompted you even in the hour of great bodily distress to send us from your bed of sickness a message of comfort and encouragement, feel that we can not suffer this, your birthday, to pass by without some expression of our gratitude and sympathy.