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Updated: April 30, 2025
"But I admire you for coming to the rescue of your mother. That was fine of you." "I'm glad I can do some fine thing." Dorian had been standing. He now seated himself on the bank beside her. The world about them was very still as they sat for a few moments without speaking. "Listen," said he, "I believe Uncle Zed is preaching. The meeting house windows are wide open, for a wonder.
Mother keeps track of them, the only one who does, I guess, for he doesn't do it himself. We're just going down to visit with him this evening. He's a very fine old man, is Uncle Zed," this last to Mildred. "Is he your uncle?" "Oh, no; he's just uncle to everybody and no one in particular. He's all by himself, and has no folks?"
The wind had quieted, and the snow was falling slowly, steadily in big white flakes, When Dorian again went back to the bedside and looked on the stilled face of his friend, he gave a little start. He looked again closely, listening, and feeling of the cold hands. Uncle Zed was dead. The Greenstreet meeting house was filled to overflowing at the funeral.
Hit that there girt ozebird over's back wi' the broomstick, he be robbing of my young zow. Choog, choog, choog! and a drap more left in the dripping-pail. Surely I am as good as a pig. 'Dunno as thee be, Jan. No straikiness in thy bakkon. And now I come to think of it, Jan, thee zed, a wake agone last Vriday, as how I had got a girt be-ard. Wull 'e stick to that now, Maister Jan?
So that when I was trying to read or to reflect, it was by no means exhilarating to my mind to hear from the next room that: "The la dy ce sel i a now si zed the weep on and all though the boor ly vil ly an re tain ed his vy gor ous hold she drew the blade through his fin gers and hoorl ed it far be hind her dryp ping with jore."
She comes to see you, then?" "Yes; oftener than you do." "I never meet her here." "No; she manages that, I surmise." "What do you mean?" "I tell you Carlia is a lovely girl," continued Uncle Zed, ignoring his direct question. "Have you ever eaten butter she has churned?" "Not that I know."
"So you think that a young fellow might that it would not be wrong or foolish for a poor man to think a lot of of a rich girl, for instance." Uncle Zed peered at Dorian over his glasses. The old man took him gently by the shoulders.
Surely, he would need light from on High to help him to choose the right! Surely, he would. At the coming of winter, Uncle Zed was bedfast. He was failing rapidly. Neighbors helped him. Dorian remained with him as much as he could. The bond which had existed between these two grew stronger as the time of separation became nearer. The dying man was clear-minded, and he suffered very little pain.
The old man placed his hand lovingly on the young man's shoulder, as he continued: "You are the man to do this, Dorian you, not I." "I Uncle Zed, do you believe that?" "I do. Listen, my boy. I see you looking over the harvested field.
Many people wondered why a man like Uncle Zed was content to live in the country. The answer seemed to be found in a number of slips: "How peaceful comes the Sabbath, doubly blessed, In giving hope to faith, to labor rest. Most peaceful here: no city's noise obtains, And God seems reverenced more where silence reigns." Once Dorian had been called a "Clod hopper."
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