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Updated: April 30, 2025
Dorian was in a strange state of mind for a number of days. He longed to visit the Brown home, yet he could not find excuse to go. He could not talk to anybody about what was in his mind and heart, not even to his mother with whom he always shared his most hidden thoughts. One evening he visited Uncle Zed, ostensibly, to talk about a book.
That evening Mrs. Trent had tidied up the room and had left Dorian to spend the night with the sick man. The tea-kettle hummed softly on the stove. The shaded lamp was turned down low. "Dorian." "Yes, Uncle Zed." "Turn up the lamp a little. It's too dark in here." "Doesn't the light hurt your eyes!" "No; besides I want you to get me some papers out of that drawer in my desk."
The old man from behind his window watched his young friend walk leisurely along the road until he reached the cross-lots path which led to the Duke home. Here he saw him pause, go on again, pause once more, then jump lightly over the fence and strike out across the field. Uncle Zed then went on finishing his preparations for meeting.
"And now, what if your father and Uncle Zed are talking about the matter up there in the spirit world." Dorian thought of that for a few moments. Then: "I'll have to go to the University for four years, but that's only a beginning. Ill have to go East to Yale or Harvard and get all they have. Then will come a lot of individual research, and Oh, mother, I don't know."
He sat down with his company and rubbed his hands in a way which implied: "And what does all this mean?" Mildred noted that the wall, back of his own chair, was nearly covered with books, and a number of volumes lay on the table. The room was furnished for the simple needs of the lone occupant. A fire smouldered in the open grate. "Now, Uncle Zed, have you forgotten again?" inquired Mrs. Trent.
The girl raised her head, swiftly dashed the tears from her eyes, then with a sad effort to smile, said: "Nothing, mother, nothing at all. I'm going to bed. Where's father?" "He was called out to Uncle Zed's who is sick. Dorian's mother is there with him too, I understand." "Then I'd better go for her," said the young man. "I'll say goodnight. Poor Uncle Zed; he hasn't been well lately.
The young listener was deeply impressed by what he was hearing. "You asked me about working out our own salvation," continued Uncle Zed. "Let me answer you on that. There are three principles in the law of progress, all of them important: First, there must be an exercise of the will by the candidate for progression. He must be willing to advance and have a desire to act for himself.
Especially, should I learn of the growing things which clothe the earth with beauty and furnish sustenance to life. Some day I hope the Lord will give me a small part of this earth, when it is glorified. Ah, then, what a garden shall I have!" No one in Greenstreet had ever known Uncle Zed as a married man. His wife had died long ago, and he seldom spoke of her.
Our work, also must be to help along the road to salvation those who are lower down, those who are more ignorant and are weaker than we." "Which, Uncle Zed, you have been doing all your life." "Just trying a little, just a little." "And this will be as it already has been, your glory. I see that plainly." "Why shouldn't it be everybody's work and glory!
By bursting buds, by sprouting grass, I hear the bees hum as I pass, 'I love you'. The waking earth, the sunny sky Are whispering the same as I, 'I love you'. The song of birds in sweetest notes Comes from their bursting hearts and throats, 'I love you'." "Oh, Uncle Zed!" said Dorian, half aloud, "who would have thought it!"
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