The building of Hollins Institute was not the achievement of one man. It was the outcome of associated work. There was a leader, gifted with vision, judgment and iron will, but without abundant and able co-operation, there would have been no realization of his scheme. No man would be more prompt than Mr. Cocke in acknowledgment of this fact. He was accurate in measurements of the qualities of men and women, and not often in his selection of teachers was his judgment at fault. It was a compliment to be invited into his Faculty, and its members always found Hollins one big family. In one dining hall, students and teachers met three times a day, and the warmth of home feeling fused all generous natures into one delightful fellowship. Mr. Cocke did not look on his comrades as hired people. He took them into his confidence and high regard as honorable and worthy associates in his sacred work of education. He was no dictator; he issued no commands. He trusted his teachers, invited their freedom of initiative, and complimented them with the expectation of efficient service. He asked for good team work. It is no surprise that in such an atmosphere and under such genial conditions, he always had a loyal and harmonious Faculty. Rarely did one of its members go away without happy memories and loving attachments. Many fine men and women, through the long years, made invaluable contributions to the upbuilding of the Institution. Their work was worthy of all praise, and it is a matter of regret that most of their names have to be omitted from this brief record. _Mrs. Charles L. Cocke_ In the presentation of Mr. Cocke's fellow-workers in the building up of Hollins Institute, no one will deny the first place to his wife. Her pre-eminent worth has already been indicated in the foregoing chapters. Longer than others, she bore him company and demonstrated a sturdiness of character, quite as marked as his own. She did not want to come to the mountains with her three little children. In 1845, she listened with loving interest to the enthusiastic recitals of her husband, just returned from the Southwest, but kept hidden in her heart an invincible preference for her old home. Yet, in the summer of 1846, she went with him, loyally and cheerfully. His optimism she could not share, but the path of duty she trod as willingly as he. In the far after years she confided to her children that she had never loved the mountains, and then added, "But I never told Charles!" The fact would not have helped him, hence it was shut up in her heart. That confession is full of great meanings, pathetic, unselfish and honorable. Such was her faith in him, such her love and hearty comradeship in toil and sacrifice, that he most likely never suspected the secret feeling. [Illustration: MRS. CHARLES L. COCKE]