REV. JAMES OLIVER, M.A., Minister of St James' Church, Portobello, and Chairman of Council of the HO is he?" asked a gentleman Who is the speaker?" "I can easily see that you are a stranger at Border gatherings," I replied, "else you would not require an introduction to the Rev. James Oliver, minister at Portobello." "He is quite an orator,' remarked the gentleman, before the hum which had followed the speech had subsided. "Undoubtedly," I replied. And truly, oration it was. But, in some degree, this is the characteristic of Mr Oliver's speak ing generally. No one can watch his somewhat impassive features when he is speaking of a subject close to his heart, without seeing that the marvellous self-control which represses the facial muscles, is but an indication of the intensity with which the thought that gleams through the kindling eye is being welded into illuminative speech. Of gesture there is little. The tall, spare, soldier-like form sways to and fro from time to time, giving emphatic point to his periods; but of eloquence, as that art is usually under On the other hand, I can as easily imagine how the terror of the rogues would for ever disappear, when they discovered that beneath the feigned voice, and the judicial mein, there was hidden the kindest of hearts, and the keenest sense of humour. After the lamented death of Dr Jamieson-a sketch of whom appeared in this journal in January, 1905-Mr Oliver was unanimously chosen to be Chairman of Council of the Edinburgh Border Counties' Association. This honour he well deserved, not only for his loyal services to the Association, first, as a member for twenty-five years, and second, as member of Council for twelve years; but, above all, because of his passionate devotion to Border interests. If you probe near the heart of our friend, I If am convinced you will find evidence of an undying affection for the Borders all around. you cut deeper, even to the heart's core, you will find the thematic words-" Bonnie Teviotdale!" indelibly engraven there. No one could listen to Mr Oliver when he spoke at Duns in July last, of the scene at the annual Bursary Competition held at St Boswells when forty boys and girls from glen and town met to do honour to themselves or their teachers without feeling, that here was a man capable of sympathising with child nature in its various aspects, a man, who somehow, was living certain experiences of his own over again, and who-though toil and sorrow had often intervened could yet see the wayside school, or the town academy, from whence these children came, as vividly before him, as when, a small, "yellow-haired" laddie, he took his way to the sequestered school of Newmill-on-Teviot. Born at Teviothead, a Borderer of Borderers, as his name implies, even a casual observer can see how much the grand scenery through which Teviot's silvery tide flows, as well as early associations and environment, have influenced Mr Oliver. Many of the older Border ballads bear traces of Scandanavian awe and mystery, as well as of Celtic fire, in their imagery and expression. In like manner much that is most interesting in Border character seems to show the survival of similar elements in the nature of the race, and to prove that the great rolling hills, rushing streams, and lonely glens, must ever influence the hearts of those open to their message, however times or conditions may change. To my mind Mr Oliver seems to embody many of the best qualities in Border character; and his sterling manliness and integrity seem but the natural outcome of a life of industry and self-reliance. At an early age he gave evidence of superior mental capacity, and even when only nine years old, he gained several prizes at the school of Newmill-on-Teviot. But he gained more than prizes there, he gained friends, one of whom Mr James Robertson-is now a fellowmember of the Border Counties' Association Council; also Mr Ninion Elliot, S.S.C., formerly President of Council and now one of the vice-presidents of the Association. It is interesting to conjecture how many of the boys, now scattered over the schools in the towns and glens of the South of Scotland, will one day-like our friends, Oliver and Robertson and Elliot-came forward to uphold the banner of Borderland interests in our busy cities, or our distant colonies! On leaving Newmill School, young Oliver was entered as a pupil of Hawick Grammar School, then under the charge of the late Mr Anthony Dodds. That the lad made good use of his opportunities can be seen from the fact that eventually he became assistant master. This office he held for two years, and was succeeded by Mr J. A. H. Murray-now Dr Murray-whose herculean work on his famous Dictionary was described in this journal some time ago, and who, in September last, was so highly honoured by his native town of Hawick. Naturally, the goal for a lad of such "pregnant pairts," as the subject of this sketch, was the University of Edinburgh; and, accordingly, we find him in comparatively early years a matriculated student of that famous seat of learning. The period of eight years necessary to complete the course in Arts and Divinity is ofttimes a "lang dreich road," and one needs to begin the work young, when hope is in the ascendant, and when life seems long enough for the easy attainment by and by of our loftiest ideals! Mr Oliver not being blessed, or shall I say hampered, by too much of this world's goods— and Border Counties' Association University Bursaries not then being instituted, else be sure he would have gained one!--he had to turn his pre-eminence in classics to account, and follow a scholastic expedient of the time by undertaking tutoring in proprietory schools in the hours not devoted to College classes. This mode of working one's way through the University was commoner then than now that the Merchant Company and other large public schools have practically driven the private schools from the fields, and employ permanent masters instead of the student with his two hours a-day, changed each session to suit his College classes. The old system was undoubtedly a boon to the student, but it was an immeasurably greater boon to those who employed him, and whose fees from the pupils were not at all in keeping with the salary paid to the teacher. Mr Oliver taught in some of the best known of such private schools in Edinburgh, and can point to many men now occupying distinguished positions in the world who received their early training from his hands. His summer recess was not idly spent, for, from time to time, he even taught in such seminaries as the Jedburgh Academy and the Douglas Aca demy, Isle of Man. I think it will be admitted in view of this incessant work, that Mr Oliver's College record is excellent. Here is an example, having gained a Heriot Bursary in 1859, and the Hep burn Bursary in 1860, he carried off the third prize in the Advanced Greek Class, the first prize in the Hebrew Class, besides attaining distinction in the classes of Mathematics and Moral Philosophy. After being licensed by the Presbytery of Jedburgh, it seems quite in keeping with his loyalty to the Border traditions to find Mr Oliver assistant in turn to such parishes as Selkirk and Bedrule respectively. But the people of the West, as represented by the town of Nelston, also secured his services, and so much were these appreciated that when he left he was presented with a purse containing a hundred sovereigns. The first settled charge held by our friend was that of Tweedmouth Presbyterian Church, in the town of Berwick-on-Tweed. Although he found the charge in somewhat low water, yet he left it a good congregation, and here, as in Nelston, the people showed their gratitude for his labours amongst them by giving him a present on leaving, this time a handsome gold watch. St James' Established Church, Portobello, which had been newly started, next claimed his services and here, happily, he remains with every sign of increasing prosperity attending his ministrations. In educational affairs Mr Oliver has always taken a keen interest, and when Portobello had a School Board of its own, he was a member of it for a considerable period, having been placed near the head of the poll at the election. I am not aware if the subject of this "appreciation" has the clerical craze for “gowf, but there are two recreations he has which he will yield to no man! The daily study of the Greek and Latin authors, most of which he can read "ad aperturam," and botany. In the pursuit of the latter science there are few spots in the British Isles that he has not explored. He has also contributed several papers to the Hawick Archæological Society. Born in the parish of which Henry Scott Riddell was minister, there is little wonder that a rich vein of poetic fire should be found permeating the entire nature of Mr Oliver. I cannot aver that any verses from his pen have seen the light, but amongst his lectures, that on Burns is in frequent demand, and it will be within the memory of some readers of this magazine how eloquently he delineated the character and genius of our national poet a few years ago, when the Burns anniversary fell on the same date as that of the annual meeting of the Edinburgh Border Counties' Association. 66 It has never been my lot to be present at a Hawick Night" of the Borderers' Union, but Dr Jamieson used to say that no one ever saw Mr Oliver at his best who had not seen him there his foot was on his native heath, and his fervour only found full outlet in the inspiring strains of Teribus! Well, long may it be so, for such a sterling type of Border scholarship and enthusiasm confers distinction on his birthplace. We might fittingly sum up Mr Oliver's character as Kipling sings of "Bobs ": "An' 'e does not advertise!" DUNCAN FRASER. Tweed's Well. The Tweed owes its source to the quaint well in Tweedsmuir parish. LONELY it lies, 'neath changing skies, This magic little well, Though bleak and drear, the pastures near, Of balmy days, and primrose ways, The wondrous spring, whose song I sing Though quaint and small, is source of all That leaps and flows, through winter snows, In classic ground, is always found, From field, from sky, from coppice nigh A dainty throng, on wings of song, From gorse, from fern, where'er we turn, And o'er the muir come echoes pure MINNIE MCKEAN, in the "Scotsman." |