Ann Arbor was long accustomed to his familiar figure on his invariable morning constitutional, walking with an elastic, springy step and a ruddy freshness in his complexion which almost belied his gray hairs and his well-known age. He passed few blocks without a word to some one, for a simple, kindly interest in those about him was one of his chief characteristics. It was his essential democracy which kept him for so many years in personal relations with his students, an interest which never flagged until the last, and which was shown by the close track which he always kept of the alumni of the University. For the alumni, he always bore that simplest and most beloved of academic titles, "Prexy." No gentler tribute has ever been paid than the words of his former pupil, Professor Charles M. Gayley, '78, now of the University of California, in the Commemoration Ode, read at the Quarter Centennial of Dr. Angell's Presidency: "For he recks of praises nothing, counts them fair nor fit: He, who bears his honors lightly, And whose age renews its zest--" To James Burrill Angell must be given a pre-eminent place among those who have made advanced learning for the young people of the land a matter of course. More than any other one person he helped to give to this country one of her proudest distinctions, the highest percentage in the world of college men and women. President Angell's long administration of thirty-eight years came to an end October 1, 1909, when he resigned what had become a heavy burden to become President-Emeritus. Even now we cannot properly estimate how distinguished that service was. He was then eighty years old and had given the University the best that was in him. The death of his wife, Sarah Caswell Angell, in 1903, was a blow from which he never recovered. She was the daughter of President Alexis Caswell of Brown University, and her sympathetic co-operation and especial interest in the women of the University was no small factor in his success. For seven years after his resignation he lived in the home on the Campus he had so long occupied, loved and honored alike by students, Faculty, and alumni; and watched with interest and appreciation the development of the University under the new leader. Here he died on April 4, 1916. No tribute to a great leader was ever more fitting than the long double file of students that lined the whole way to Forest Hill on the day he was laid to rest under the simple monument which marks his grave.