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Updated: April 30, 2025
He found something to eat at a lunch counter, then he walked about briskly to try to get his blood into active circulation. Again he went to his room. Presently, he heard the ringing of church bells. The folks would be going to Sunday school in Greenstreet. He saw in the vision of his mind Uncle Zed sitting with the boys about him in his class.
Autumn tinted ivy embowered his front door and climbed over the wall nearly to the low roof. Uncle Zed met the visitors at the door. "Well, well," he exclaimed, "come right in. I'll light the lamp." Then he assisted them to find seats. Mildred looked keenly at Uncle Zed, whom she found to be a little frail old man with clean white hair and beard, and kindly, smiling face.
"My, all sermons? they must be dry reading." Uncle Zed heard their conversation, and stepped over to them. "Are you also interested in books?" he asked. "Dorian and I are regular book-worms, you know." Oh, yes, she was interested in books. "But there are books and books, you know," went on Uncle Zed. "You like story books, no doubt.
"You have been out a long time, then?" "Yes, though it do seem but yesterday, and I han't seen B since. I mind how parson, 'e came to me and axed, 'What! bist gwine to fight for King and Country, Jarge? And I zed, 'Yes, sur, that I be for King and Country and ould Wiltshire.
"Plaise your worship" John called me so, ever since I returned from London, firmly believing that the King had made me a magistrate at least; though I was to keep it secret "us zeed as how your worship were took with thinkin' of King's business, in the middle of the whate-rigg: and so uz zed, 'Latt un coom to his zell, us had better zave taime, by takking our dinner'; and here us be, praise your worship, and hopps no offence with thick iron spoon full of vried taties."
The listeners knitted their brows, but no one spoke. Uncle Zed continued: "Well, here is a little more. Perhaps this will clear it up: 'The greatest of selves, the ultimate Self of the universe, is God.... My God is my deeper self and yours too.
She always liked to hear the pioneers talk of their experiences. "No" replied Uncle Zed, "I never met President Young, but I believe I know him as well as many who had that pleasure. I have read everything that I could get in print which Brigham Young ever said. I have read all his discourses in those volumes.
She made no objections, though in truth she was not cold. "Tell me about the party," she said. He told her who were there, and how they had missed her. "And did Uncle Zed preach?" "Preach? O, yes, he talked mighty fine. I wish I could tell you what he said." "What was it about?" "About God," he answered reverently. "Try to tell me, Dorian. I need to know. I'm such a dunce."
I feel as well as I ever have." "Your 'feeling' is a dangerous illusion." His face was space-dust grey and I realized with horror that he meant all of it. "I had to tell you the parable and show the possible alternatives clearly. Treb, you're riddled with Centaurian Zed virus. Unless we remove almost all the remaining first growth organisms you will be dead within six months."
Uncle Zed lay peacefully on his pillow, a wistful look on his face. The room became still again, and the clock ticked away the time. Dorian folded up the papers which he had been told to keep and put them in his pocket. The rest of the package he returned to the drawer. He lowered the lamp again. Then he sat down and watched. It seemed it would not be long for the end. "Dorian."
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