The first day of the term is always a broken one. Lessons are laid out, but not expected to be studied; new scholars coming in, and old ones to greet. Frank Clavers and Robert Lovell were delighted to have me back again, and Robert drew me into the same old seat.
“Not that,” said Mr. Harlan laughing. “I look to you for assistance as well as study. Pupils that I know I allow to sit back; the seats near the desk are for new-comers;” and together we went down the aisle to the back seat.
Robert Lovell did not board in the academy. He was the only son of a widowed mother, who lived in Terryville, and he paid his tuition by teaching a class of the smallest boys. Hence he was looked upon as both teacher and pupil; and his good sense and judicious bearing won the entire regard of those with whom he had to do. Of Scotch descent, large and overgrown, he looked much older than he really was. As a scholar, he was deep rather than brilliant, with a powerful memory, and fine appreciation of the beautiful. He was studying for the ministry, and his heart was alive to the importance of the work; but why he gave me such marked demonstrations of his friendship, I never knew; while for him I soon felt a warmth of regard second only to that given Mr. Kirby. Further advanced in his studies, he was of great assistance to me in my lessons—not by helping with translations, solving problems, etc., but telling me circumstances connected with the time he was studying such and such a book, what he was obliged to do, his walks to school, and the efforts he had to make; giving me to see how small was my labor in comparison with his, my self-denial nothing like that he had known. Then drawing his chair nearer, and taking my hand, he would tell me the sweet story of the cross, painting in such colors the matchless purity and beauty of a life it was ours to imitate, that I forgot myself and my books, and only saw the bleeding, dying Saviour; only heard the sweet accents of his love, “Come unto me.”
I shall never forget the first Sabbath at Rockdale. It did not seem that I could be denied spending the day with Jennie, and still Mr. Harlan had specified that I was to remain there. Try as I would, I rebelled not a little. Robert Lovell came into my room, and seeing my sorrowful face, asked the cause. I told him of my little sister, my mother’s charge concerning her, and that I could not be happy if obliged to remain from her over the Sabbath.
“It is a great self-denial, I can see; but if you have the right spirit, you do not need to go to Claverton to spend Sunday properly. God looks at the heart; he sees all your love and devotion, and he is not one to forget. You want an education; through the kindness of friends, you are put in a position to help yourself. This involves your being here at your post all the time, and Saturday is of course your busiest day.”
“I know it, and I feel quite ashamed of being so gloomy about it; but Jennie will miss me at Sabbath-school.”
“That is just what I came in for. I want you to spend the Sabbath with me. Mr. Farnham has given me a class of boys about your age, and I should like to have you with us. We study together. I do not know so much more than they do, but I am willing to do what I can, and we shall improve in proportion as we become interested in that blessed book.”
“So am I willing to do any thing,” I answered. “I am sorry I have been so fretful this morning. As you say, if I have the right spirit, I can spend the Sabbath here as well as in Claverton. I can think of Jennie as she sits in her little room; and when we do meet, we can compare our lessons and note our advancement just as we do in our other studies.”
“Certainly; and remember that God knows us, and approves not so much what we have accomplished, as the effort that we make. It is not what we give that makes our offering acceptable, but the spirit in which it is given; not what we do, but the spirit in which it is done.”
“I wish it was not such an effort to be good. I do try.”