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.”  As he read the following, he wondered whether or not Uncle Zed had not also been so designated, and had written this in reply: 

“Mother Earth, why should not I love you?  Why should not I get close to you?  Why should I plan to live always in the clouds above you, gazing at other far-distant worlds, and neglecting you?  Why did I, with others, shout with joy when I learned that I was coming here from the world of spirits?  I answer, because I knew that ’spirit and element inseparately connected receiveth a fullness of joy.’  I was then to get in touch with ‘element’ as I had been with ‘spirit.’  This world which I see with my natural eyes is the ‘natural’ part of Mother Earth, even as the flesh and bones and blood of my body is the element of myself, to be inseparately connected with my spirit and to the end that I might receive a fullness of joy.  The earth and all things on it known by the term nature is what I came here to know.  Nature, wild or tamed, is my schoolroom—­the earth with its hills and valleys and plains, with its clouds and rain, with its rivers and lakes and oceans, with its trees and fruits and flowers, its life—­about all these I must learn what I can at first hand.  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.  Dorian had wondered whether he had ever been a young man, with a young man’s thoughts and feelings; but here was evidence which dispelled any doubt.  On a slip of paper, somewhat yellow with age, were the following lines, written in Uncle Zed’s best hand: 

  “In the enchanted air of spring,
  I hear all Nature’s voices sing,
        ‘I love you’.

  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!”

Near the top of the pile of manuscript Dorian found an envelope with “To Dorian Trent,” written on it.  He opened it with keen interest and found that it was a somewhat newly written paper and dealt with a subject they had discussed in connection with the chapter on Death in Drummond’s book.  Uncle Zed had begun his epistle by addressing it, “Dear Dorian” and then continued as follows: