Near the close of July he began to suffer much from a malady which, though hidden, must have been long in progress. His sufferings were most acute and severe, but never did he lose that sweet patience and serenity of spirit he had always manifested, nor that calm submission to his Heavenly Father's will. He died September 13, 1858.
In the words of one of his most esteemed associates: "The village mourns, for it has lost an excellent citizen; the church mourns, for it has lost an efficient officer; the college mourns, for it has lost a revered teacher; the State mourns, for it has lost an exemplary subject,—one who belonged to that class who are justly styled 'the light of the world!'"
Few men in America have ever been called to teach the abstruse science of Mathematics, who combined in such desirable proportions a thorough knowledge of the science with a faculty of presenting it in a pleasing manner in the recitation room. In the happy adjustment of Professor Young's powers one could but observe a union of quick perception with almost perfect self-control. Whatever the deficiencies of the student, a hasty or unguarded or inappropriate or even an unscientific word was seldom found in Professor Young's vocabulary. His most impressive rebuke was silence.
In a commemorative "Discourse," President Lord says:
"During his college course he was an earnest and successful student. He carried his work before him, finished it in its time, and did it well. He studied his lessons and a few related books, and scattered not his mind by light, promiscuous, and aimless reading. He gorged not, but thought and digested, and never had a literary dyspepsia. Of course he grew right along. He was resolved, prompt, exact, untiring, and true as steel. Everybody knew where to find him. He studied no popular arts. Though never rough or crusty, he was curt and sarcastic; but no man ever took offense who knew the kindness of his heart. His fellow-students loved him. His abilities and knowledge commanded their respect; his moral excellence secured their confidence, and his example gave him power over their minds and manners. He hated and reproved vice, frowned upon all disorder, disdained artifice and trick, and stood out manfully in support of virtue. Once, in the same entry, a few noisy and vicious young men set up to be disturbers. They particularly insulted a worthy but timid student, who was his neighbor. He took that student to his own room, and gave him countenance and protection. Then they committed outrage upon his room, and threatened personal abuse. When his remonstrance availed nothing, he protested that he would not see such evil perpetrated in college, but would report them. They knew him, believed him, desisted, and gave him then the honor of his disinterested virtue, as virtue always receives its meed of honor when it stands erect on its own prerogative, and is not moved by the contradictions of unreasonable and wicked men. Yet he was no ascetic. He liked companionship, was not fastidious or exacting, never petulant or vindictive, but gentle and forbearing. He had especial tenderness for those 'good-hearted' young men who can never refuse to do wrong when they are invited. A distinguished officer of one of our professional institutions once said to me,—'I was, at one time, when in college, thoughtless, self-indulgent, fell among bad companions, and was nearly ruined. Mr. Young pitied me, took hold of me, and saved me.' That excellent man could not now speak of his benefactor without tears of gratitude.
"How he stood at college, that is, what rank he held, whether first, second, or a lower figure in his class, I never inquired, and, if I ever heard, I have forgotten. Probably he was not equally indifferent, for if there be a more excellent way of judgment, it was not quite evident to his calculating mind. I have often admired how his professional bias led him in his measurement of men, almost as by instinct, to arithmetic, as if figures must, of course, be true, and as if insensible moral and physical causes did not often greatly modify or neutralize numerical computation. But it was a generous prejudice, and I have also admired how, in his practical judgment, he would unconsciously neutralize or modify his professional idea. He wanted nothing but realities. He went for scholarship and not the show of it. He accepted no metal that would not ring. He was accordingly judged by others in reference to his sterling qualities. There might have been men about him who made a greater figure than himself. It is very likely. For, as I remember, strangers sometimes undervalued him. Soon after he left college, I was sent to offer him the place of tutor. I had not previously known him, and my first impressions were not agreeable. I hesitated to do my errand. After all it was rather performed than done, more after a Roman than a Saxon fashion. But it turned out better for his character and the public good, than for my own discernment. So of another commission not only from the Trustees, but the venerable Professor Adams, to assure him that he would, after a while, be wanted to take the chair of that noble old man, one of the princes of the earth. They who knew him best had marked him, even when he took his parchment, for that high position. How well he filled it, and every other office he sustained, everybody who knows the college knows.
"Professor Young was a consummate teacher. During his college course he taught school every successive winter, as he had done for years preceding, and earned nearly enough to pay the expenses of his course, for he had high wages, and never wasted them on his clothes or pleasures. That discipline settled in his mind the elements of knowledge. The principles of all true knowledge were already laid; first, when he was born; and, secondly, when he was born again. He had, of course, tools to work with, and facility to use them for the good of others, enlarging all the while his own fabric till he became the man of science that he was for his successive trusts. He loved, as few men ever love, to teach, and as no man can love who begins not early and makes not teaching his profession. He went to his last recitation when he should have been upon his bed, to find relief from the agonies he suffered, and take off his mind from the greater that he feared. He was never more at home, or more at ease, than with his class. He loved to enrich them out of his own stores, and thereby draw out and sharpen their independent faculties. He was not disconcerted when he sometimes drew to little purpose; though sure, by set remonstrance, or by his peculiar, quaint, dry and caustic humor, to rebuke indifference and neglect, or expose the artifice of a bold, shrewd, or sly pretender. He was sure of what he knew, and never gave way without a reason. I have sometimes thought him too sure before he scanned a question. Yet he would never persist when he saw no foothold. He was set but not dogmatic, or no more so than a sincere man must be when he believes what he teaches and is in earnest. He would never defend before his class a theory because it was new, or because it was learned, or because it was his own, or because it was popular, or because he would otherwise be ruled out of the synagogue, till he had made it sure by calculus, or probable by analogy. When convinced that an hypothesis could not be verified in the present state of knowledge, or never in logical consistency with established facts, or moral certainties, he abandoned it like an honest man. But where he had his ground he stood, and would have it understood. Of course his teaching was effectual. Those who would be made scholars he made sound and good ones. He gave a strong character to his departments, and his departments were an honor to the college.
"Professor Young was a ripe scholar in general. He was conversant with the accredited branches of knowledge, and held an honorable place among learned men. He was modest and retiring, content to know, and unconcerned about the appearance of it. He liked not to open his mouth in the gate, but he had wisdom to deliver the city. Nothing crude, partial, superficial, or one-sided, ever came from him. His judgments were clear, comprehensive, and decisive. He was slow, critical, and cautious in forming his opinions, and where he settled there he stayed. No man could cajole or browbeat him out of his convictions.
"When our professor lay dead before us, the thought arose that, now, no longer plodding his way to yonder dome, with steps restrained and painful from an unknown disease, no longer weary with watching, through his telescope, the distant orbs, nor with numbers and diagrams to find their measure, he could survey, without a glass, infinitely greater wonders from a higher sphere; for he had profited by his earthly discipline: the heavens had declared to him the glory of God, and the firmament had showed his handiwork. The day had uttered to him speech, and the night had showed to him knowledge. Next it occurred how natural religion had been thus reproduced in his mind and illustrated by a higher Revelation: 'The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul; the testimonies of the Lord are sure, making wise the simple; the statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes.'"