holy, glorified cannot possibly live there, is dead to that higher world.  A soul who cannot function in the celestial glory, may do so in the terrestrial glory; one who cannot function in the terrestrial, may in the telestial; and one who cannot ‘abide the law’ or function in the telestial must find a place of no glory.  This is inevitable—­it cannot be otherwise.  Immutable law decrees it, and not simply the ruling of an all wise power.  The soul who fails to attain to the celestial glory, fails to walk in the straight and narrow path which leads to it.  Such a person wanders in the by-paths called sin, and no power in the universe can arbitrarily put him in an environment with which he cannot function.  ‘To be carnally minded is death’, said Paul.  ’The wages of sin is death’, or in other words, he who persistently avoids the Celestial Highway will never arrive at the Celestial Gate.  He who works evilly will obtain evil wages.  Anyway, what would it profit a man with dim eyesight to be surrounded with ineffable glory?  What would be the music of the spheres to one bereft of hearing?  What gain would come to a man with a heart of stone to be in an environment of perfect and eternal love!”

Dorian finished the reading and laid the paper on the desk.  For some time he sat very still, thinking of these beautiful words from his dear friend to him.  Surely, Uncle Zed was very much alive in any environment which his beautiful life had placed him.  Would that he, Dorian, could live so that he might always be alive to the good and be dead to sin.

The stillness of the night was about him.  The lamplight grew dim, showing the oil to be gone, so he blew out the smoking wick.  He opened the stove door, and by the light of the dying fire he gathered up some books to take home.  He heard a noise as if someone were outside.  He listened.  The steps were muffled in the snow.  They seemed to approach the house and then stop.  There was silence for a few minutes, then plainly he heard sobbing close to the door.

What could it mean? who could it be?  Doubtless, some poor soul to whom Uncle Zed had been a ministering angel, had been drawn to the vacant house, and could not now control her sorrow.  Then the sobbing ceased, and Dorian realized he had best find out who was there and give what help he could.  He opened the door, and a frightened scream rang out from the surprised Carlia Duke who stood in the faint light from the open doorway.  She stood for a second, then as if terror stricken, she fled.

“Carlia,” shouted Dorian.  “Carlia!”

But the girl neither stopped nor looked back.  Across the pathless, snow-covered fields she sped, and soon became only a dark-moving object on the white surface.  When she had entirely disappeared, Dorian went back, gathered up his bundles, locked the door, and went wonderingly and meditatingly home.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.