But the old-time diversions do not pass. Those glorious romping trips up Carvin's Creek to the Falls, and the annual holiday climb to the top of Tinker in October, together with the strenuous games and sports on the campus, will continue to furnish happy memories. The democratic spirit of the Institution Mr. Cocke constantly cultivated, and with profound satisfaction he welcomed students from the homes of rich and poor. All entered on terms of equality in privilege and opportunity. The rich girl of common sense and industry won popularity and honor; and by the same token the poor girl gained the love of classmates and the medals of distinction. At no institution was there more contempt for snobbery or for the spirit of favoritism. Moral and intellectual worth were the sole tests of credit and high standing. His interest followed the students, and he smiled at the tidings of their usefulness. He counted on their private and public values in society. Some, he was fond of saying, had become the wives of ministers, of lawyers and judges, of officers of the Army and of the Navy, of political leaders and of distinguished men in all ranks and professions. With pride, he spoke of those who were teaching in the schools and colleges, and of those who had gone into the far mission fields of the world. In his heart the grand old man felt: "They are all my daughters, and the sweetest benedictions be on every one." You will never meet the daughters of Hollins, old or young, whose faces do not light up at the mention of his name, or that of the dear place where many of life's holiest memories were stored. When old Hollins girls meet--whether as bosom cronies, after years of separation, or as strangers at some Exposition, gazing through tears at a portrait--a listener need but catch fragments of their reminiscences to know how Mr. Cocke's personality glows in the memory of his "gyrls." "Could we ever forget how he used to read the hymns at evening worship? Nobody else could, or can, read them as he did: Guide me, O thou great Jehovah-- My hope is built on nothing less, Than Jesus' blood and righteousness-- In the Cross of Christ I glory, Towering o'er the wrecks of time-- This last always with an unconscious lifting of the head in his vision of the glory one day to be revealed. It meant much to look, once a day, on a colossal faith like his. Was it due to those unbroken, silent trysts with his Savior in the chapel, in the early morning?"