ppy 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 near