t of the 'Contributor' and this is my 'Era' shelf, and here
are most of the more modern church works. Let us now go back to the
fire."

After they were again seated, Mildred asked him if he had known Brigham
Young. She always liked to hear the pioneers talk of their experiences.

"No" replied Uncle Zed, "I never met President Young, but I believe I
know him as well as many who had that pleasure. I have read everything
that I could get in print which Brigham Young ever said. I have read
all his discourses in those volumes. He was not a polished speaker, I
understand, and he did not often follow a theme; but mixed with the more
commonplace subjects of irrigation, Indian troubles, etc., which, in his
particular day had to be spoken of, are some of the most profound gospel
truths in any language. Gems of thought shine from every page of his
discourses."

Carlia was nodding in a warm corner. Uncle Zed rambled on reminiscently
until Mrs. Trent suddenly arose, spoke sharply to Carlia, and lifted the
basket of picnic on to the table.

"We'll have our refreshments now," she said, "and then we must be going.
Uncle Zed goes early to bed, and so should we."

The table was spread: roast chicken, brought by Carlia; dainty
sandwiches, made by Mildred; apple pie from Mrs. Trent's cupboard; a jar
of apricot preserves, suggested by Dorian. Uncle Zed asked a blessing
not only on the food, but on the kind hands which had provided it. Then
they ate heartily, and yet leaving a generous part to be left in Uncle
Zed's own cupboard.

Then Dorian had a presentation to make. He took from the basket a small
package, unwrapped it, and handed a book to the man who was seventy-five
years old.

"I couldn't do much by way of the eats," said Dorian, "so my present is
this."

"'Drummond's Natural Law in the Spiritual World'" read Uncle Zed. "Why,
Dorian, this is fine of you. How could you guess my wishes so nicely.
For a long time, this is just the book I have wanted."

"I'm glad. I thought you'd like it."

"Fine, fine," said the old man, fondling the volume as he would some
dear object, as indeed, every good book was to him.

Then Mildred got out her violin, and after the proper tuning of the
strings, she placed it under her shapely chin. She played without music
some of the simple heart melodies, and then some of the Sunday School
songs which the company softly accompanied by words.

Carlia poked the log in the grate into a blaze, then s