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 to interfere.

Bishop Albertson was asked to preside, and when the board was called to order, Mr. Quintin arose and modestly asked permission to address them.  All were glad to hear this faithful servant of the institution.

He begged them not to construe his remarks into self-praise, but to understand them as intending to simply show his unselfish interest in the prosperity of the Monastery.  Only this and nothing more.  Thirty-one years ago he had been made a trustee.  He was then nineteen years of age, and at their first meeting he was elected treasurer of said board.  From, that date every dollar received or paid out in the interest of this institution had passed through his hands.  He had planned every building and paid for its erection; laid off the Monastery Park, superintended the farm, stocked it with all its live stock, purchased and paid for all the agricultural implements.  He had planned, built and paid for the erection of the new church building.  He had charge of Mr. Thorndyke’s endowment fund, to which had been added fifty thousand dollars, making now one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, which was safely invested at six per cent interest per annum.  All this had been simply a labor of love, he never having received a dollar for his services.  This was not boasting, but simply to show them his love for the interests of Monastery