from the twenty-nine that had preceded it. It was permeated with
hopefulness for the future and gratitude for the past. Then came that
which seemed to be the great burden of his heart. This was to be his last
official message. He said, in substance, that the wise man's description
of old age was fast coming into his experience. The keepers of the house
begin to tremble, the grinders were ceasing because they were few. He
was beginning to be afraid of that which was high. The almond was
flourishing; the grasshopper was becoming a burden; desire was beginning
to fail. In a word, three score and ten years reminded him that he must
be relieved of some of his official burdens. He did not dare to interfere
with his episcopal duties, feeling that possibly for a year or two more
he might be able to meet and discharge them. But that from the arduous
duties of the University he must be relieved and a younger man asked to
become its president. And he wished that these remarks be considered as
his positive resignation as president of Monastery University.

It was now four o'clock. They had been in session since ten o'clock. So,
by motion, they, without remarks, adjourned to meet at seven o'clock in
the evening.

In reality the president's resignation was a surprise to many. "What
now?" was the question. As the hour approached the men were seen in
groups, engaged in earnest discussion. But when they came together it was
soon manifest that there was no concert of thought, much less readiness
for concert of action. The prevailing thought seemed to be to postpone
any attempt to elect a president, it being the feeling that it was too
precipitous. But a majority of the board insisted on at once proceeding
to fill the vacant presidency, their chief argument being that the new
incumbent might have time to prepare for the fall term, and, further,
that no outside parties might be formed and no politics should be allowed