Olive Leaves; Or, Sketches of Character

by L. H. Sigourney

The return of this excellent family to their beloved village, formed a delightful scene. An affectionate flock thronged to welcome their Pastor, while the youth on whose account they had for a time left their endeared habitation, gazed with unutterable joy on the trees, the cottages, the cliffs that varied the spot of his nativity, on every room in the parsonage, every plant in the garden, every vine that clasped the walls, and on the far blue hills, behind which he had watched from infancy the glories of the setting sun. To the congratulations of his friends, some of which alluded to the brilliancy of his prospects as a distinguished scholar, he replied with ineffable sweetness,

"No possible change in my situation can make any addition to my present happiness."

The love of home was one of the strongest features in his character. The vanities and gayeties of London had no power to diminish or modify it. After passing two months there, at the age of sixteen, he came to his retired abode with the same delight, the same unassuming manners and simplicity of taste. On entering the secluded vale where their humble rural habitation was situated, he expressed his feelings in a few extempore Latin verses, which at the request of his mother, were thus translated,

"Lives there a youth, who far from home,
Through novel scenes exults to roam?
Then let the restless vagrant go,
And idly pass from show to show;
While in my native village bless'd,
Delighted still, and still at rest,
Without disturbance or alloy,
Life's purest pleasures I enjoy."

While thus bearing in his bosom the elements of happiness, true piety, active goodness, and love to all creatures, and while diligently preparing for the sacred profession to which he was destined, a sudden attack of pulmonary disease, attended with hemorrhage, alarmed those to whom he was dear. But the consequent debility readily yielded to medical treatment, and a journey and residence of several weeks amid the pure atmosphere and rural scenery of Wales, combining with uncommon salubrity of weather, seemed to restore the gentle invalid to his usual state of health.

He was able again to resume his course of academic studies, and after the midsummer vacation, which he spent in a pleasant journey with his beloved parents, was summoned to sustain an examination as a candidate for two vacant exhibitions. When he took his seat before the collegiate tutors, clergy, magistrates, and a concourse of assembled visitors, a degree of that diffidence was observable, which is so often the concomitant of genius. But in every exercise and test of knowledge, he was so self-possessed, so prompt, so perfect, that there was an unanimous burst of approbation and applause. His parents were loaded with congratulations for possessing the treasure of such a son, and a paper signed by all present was addressed to the manager of the Funds, requesting that the sum allotted to a successful candidate might be doubled on account of his extraordinary attainments. With entire meekness he bore this full tide of honour, manifesting no satisfaction in hearing his own praises, and after his return home, never made the most distant allusion to this flattering event in the life of a young student. He was now entered a fellow-commoner at Christ Church College, Oxford, with the intention of not taking his residence there till the commencement of the ensuing term.

He most assiduously devoted himself to his studies, rising early and finding the day too short for his active mind. Knowledge was dear to him for its own sake, and not for the flattering distinctions accorded to it among men: for while advancing in scholastic acquirements, he was evidently an humble peaceful student in the school of Christ. His parents were comforted amid the painful prospect of separation, with the hope that from his early and growing piety, his temperance and modesty, his untiring diligence, and a certain firmness of mind, of which he had given indisputable evidence, he would in time of temptation choose the good, and refuse the evil.

In the meantime, his birth-day arrived, the last that he was to spend on earth. It had ever been their household custom to mark it, not by sumptuous entertainments or the invitation of guests, but by expressions of affection among themselves, and the most fervent ascriptions of praise to God, for the gift he had accorded and preserved. But it seems that their sacred anniversary had been discovered and was cherished by others. While interchanging their sweet and secluded memorials of love, a letter arrived addressed to the young student, containing a large number of banknotes, "as a joint token of the affection of a few friends, who desired permission to repeat the same expression of their regard on each return of his natal day, until he should have taken his first degree at the University."

This unexpected mark of the high esteem in which he was held, was received by him with strong indications of astonishment and gratitude. As the time drew near for his departure to Oxford, his parents could scarcely be restrained from uttering the impassioned words, "Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee, for where thou goest I will go, where thou lodgest I will lodge;" not knowing that it was the appointment of God, that only the cold hand of death should divide them.

Spring approached, and the wound in his lungs, which it had been hoped was permanently healed, burst forth afresh. Aggravated by the influenza, then an epidemic, it soon took the form of an incurable malady. With entire submission he met this sudden change in his state and prospects. No murmuring word was uttered, no trace of anxiety visible on his countenance. Neither loss of appetite nor decay of strength could impair his settled composure of mind. So admirable was the mixture of meekness and manliness in his deportment, that it was difficult to say whether patience or fortitude most predominated.