On that day he handed over the reins to his successor.
The announcement of Edward Bok's retirement came as a great surprise to
his friends. Save for one here and there, who had a clearer vision,
the feeling was general that he had made a mistake. He was fifty-six,
in the prime of life, never in better health, with "success lying
easily upon him"--said one; "at the very summit of his career," said
another--and all agreed it was "queer," "strange,"--unless, they
argued, he was really ill. Even the most acute students of human
affairs among his friends wondered. It seemed incomprehensible that
any man should want to give up before he was, for some reason,
compelled to do so. A man should go on until he "dropped in the
harness," they argued.
Bok agreed that any man had a perfect right to work until he _did_
"drop in the harness." But, he argued, if he conceded this right to
others, why should they not concede to him the privilege of dropping
with the blinders off?
"But," continued the argument, "a man degenerates when he retires from
active affairs.
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