t 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:

"You remember that some time ago we talked on the subject of sin and
dea