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In The Odour Of Sanctity In The Odour Of Sanctity

In The Odour Of Sanctity
Mortem suscepit cantando Last of all, the crouching plague leaped upon the Count Angelo (whose women and boon companions already lay dead around him in his castle of Montefeltro), and dragged him from the banquet-hall of many delights into the dim alley of the grave. There he looked, as it were through a door half open, into the shapeless horror of the face of Death, which turns all desires into stone. But even while he looked, the teeth of the black beast that gripped him were loosened, and he crept back into life as one returning from a far country. His... Short Stories - Post by : elenzo1 - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 1539

Stronghold Stronghold

Stronghold
It rose upon the rock like a growth of nature; secure, commanding, imperturbable; mantled with ivy and crowned with towers; a castle of the olden time, called Stronghold. Below it, the houses of the town clung to the hillside, creeping up close to the castle wall and clustering in its shadow as if to claim protection. In truth, for many a day it had been their warden against freebooter and foreign foe, gathering the habitations of the humble as a hen gathers her chickens beneath her wings to defend them from the wandering hawk. But those times of disorder and danger... Short Stories - Post by : KevinR - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 3269

Beggars Under The Bush Beggars Under The Bush

Beggars Under The Bush
As I came round the bush I was aware of four beggars in the shade of it, counting their spoils. They sat at their ease, with food and a flagon of wine before them and silver cups, for all the world like gentlefolk on a picnic, only happier. But I knew them for beggars by the boldness of their asking eyes and the crook in their fingers. They looked at me curiously, as if to say, "What do you bring us?" "Nothing, gentlemen," I answered, "I am only seeking information." At this they moved uneasily and glanced at one another with... Short Stories - Post by : Diana_RG - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 2608

The Return Of The Charm The Return Of The Charm

The Return Of The Charm
I "Nor I," cried John Harcourt, pulling up in the moon-silvered mist and clapping his hand to his pocket, "not a groat! Stay, here is a crooked sixpence of King James that none but a fool would take. The merry robbers left me that for luck." Dick Barton growled as he turned in his saddle. "We must ride on, then, till we find a cousin to loan us a few pounds. Sir Empty-purse fares ill at an inn." "By my sore seat," laughed Harcourt, "we'll ride no farther to-night. Here we 'light, at the sign of the Magpie in the Moon.... Short Stories - Post by : baraucs - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 2675

The Effectual Fervent Prayer The Effectual Fervent Prayer

The Effectual Fervent Prayer
"O-o-o! Danny, oho-o-o! five o'clock!" The clear young voice of Esther North floated across the snowy fields to the hill where the children of Glendour were coasting. Her brother Daniel, plodding up the trampled path beside the glairy track with half a dozen other boys, dragging the bob-sled on which his little sister Ruth was seated, heard the call with vague sentiments of dislike and rebellion. His twelve years rose up in arms against being ordered by a girl, even if she was sixteen and had begun to put up her hair and lengthen her skirts. She was a nice girl,... Short Stories - Post by : Gfacets - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 1175

The Night Call The Night Call

The Night Call
I The first caprice of November snow had sketched the world in white for an hour in the morning. After mid-day, the sun came out, the wind turned warm, and the whiteness vanished from the landscape. By evening, the low ridges and the long plain of New Jersey were rich and sad again, in russet and dull crimson and old gold; for the foliage still clung to the oaks and elms and birches, and the dying monarchy of autumn retreated slowly before winter's cold republic. In the old town of Calvinton, stretched along the highroad, the lamps were lit early as... Short Stories - Post by : PajamaExecutive - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 2763

A Change Of Air A Change Of Air

A Change Of Air
There were three neighbours who lived side by side in a certain village. They were bound together by the contiguousness of their back yards and front porches, and by a community of interest in taxes and water-rates and the high cost of living. They were separated by their religious opinions; for one of them was a Mystic, and the second was a Sceptic, and the other was a suppressed Dyspeptic who called himself an Asthmatic. These differences were very dear to them, and laid the foundations of a lasting friendship in a nervous habit of interminable argument on all possible subjects.... Short Stories - Post by : dollar - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 840

An Old Game An Old Game

An Old Game
Three men were taking a walk together, as they said, just to while away the time. The first man intended to go Somewhere, to look at a piece of property which he was considering. The second man was ready to go Anywhere, since he expected to be happy by the way. The third man thought he was going Nowhere, because he was a philosopher and held that time and space are only mental forms. Therefore the third man walked in silence, reflecting upon the vanity of whiling away an hour which did not exist, and upon the futility of going when... Short Stories - Post by : pjesse - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 2293

Humoreske Humoreske

Humoreske
I They parted at the end of the summer--the boy and the girl--after having been very happy together for two months and very miserable for two days. The trouble was that she would not marry him. This was not altogether strange, for Richard Shafer was only twenty and had just finished his second year in college. To Carola Brune, who was a year younger, he seemed perfect as a playmate, but she simply could not imagine him as a husband. He was too vague, unformed, boyish in his moods and caprices. She was a strong girl, with quick and powerful impulses... Short Stories - Post by : zelenog - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 3335

The Music-lover The Music-lover

The Music-lover
The Music-Lover had come to his favourite seat. It was in the front row of the balcony, just where the curve reaches its outermost point, and, like a rounded headland, meets the unbroken flow of the long-rolling, invisible waves of rhythmical sound. The value of that chosen place did not seem to be known to the world, else there would have been a higher price demanded for the privilege of occupying it. People were willing to pay far more to get into the boxes, or even to have a chair reserved on the crowded level of the parquet. But the Music-Lover... Short Stories - Post by : mrprez - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 974

The King's Jewel The King's Jewel

The King's Jewel
There was an outcry at the door of the king's great hall, and suddenly a confusion arose. The guards ran thither swiftly, and the people were crowded together, pushing and thrusting as if to withhold some intruder. Out of the tumult came a strong voice shouting, "I will come in! I must see the false king!" But other voices cried, "Not so--you are mad--you shall not come in thus!" Then the king said, "Let him come in as he will!" So the confusion fell apart, and the hall was very still, and a man in battered armour stumbled through the silence... Short Stories - Post by : Tawiff - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 823

The Ripening Of The Fruit The Ripening Of The Fruit

The Ripening Of The Fruit
The righteousness of Puramitra was notorious, and it was evident to all that he had immense faith in his gods. He was as strict in the performance of his devotions as in the payment of his debts, nor was there any altar, whether of Brahma, or of Vishnu, or of Shiva, at which he failed to offer both prayers and gifts. He observed the rules of religion and of business with admirable regularity, and enjoyed the reputation of one whose conduct was above reproach. But, being a self-contained man, he had not the love of the little children of the village,... Short Stories - Post by : Jeri_McGill - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 2795

The Key Of The Tower The Key Of The Tower

The Key Of The Tower
So the first knight came to the Tower. Now his name was _Casse-Tout_, because wherever he came there was much breaking of things that stood in his way. And when he saw that the door of the Tower was shut (for it was very early in the morning, and all the woods lay asleep in the shadow, and only the weather-cock on the uppermost gable of the roof was turning in the light wind of dawn), it seemed to him that the time favoured a bold deed and a masterful entrance. He laid hold of the door, therefore, and shook it;... Short Stories - Post by : Ian-Michael - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 1351

The Countersign Of The Cradle The Countersign Of The Cradle

The Countersign Of The Cradle
I cannot explain to you the connection between the two parts of this story. They were divided, in their happening, by a couple of hundred miles of mountain and forest. There were no visible or audible means of communication between the two scenes. But the events occurred at the same hour, and the persons who were most concerned in them were joined by one of those vital ties of human affection which seem to elude the limitations of time and space. Perhaps that was the connection. Perhaps love worked the miracle. I do not know. I only tell you the story.... Short Stories - Post by : blithespirit - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 2993

Messengers At The Window Messengers At The Window

Messengers At The Window
The lighthouse on the Isle of the Wise Virgin--formerly called the Isle of Birds--still looks out over the blue waters of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence; its white tower motionless through the day, like a sea-gull sleeping on the rock; its great yellow eye wide-open and winking, winking steadily once a minute, all through the night. And the birds visit the island,--not in great flocks as formerly, but still plenty of them,--long-winged waterbirds in the summer, and in the spring and fall short-winged landbirds passing in their migrations--the children and grandchildren, no doubt, of the same flying families that used to... Short Stories - Post by : timerway - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 3261

The Wedding-ring The Wedding-ring

The Wedding-ring
Before Toinette Girard made up her mind to marry Prosper Leclere,--you remember the man at Abbeville who had such a brave heart that he was not willing to fight with an old friend,--before Toinette perceived and understood how brave Prosper was, it seemed as if she were very much in doubt whether she did not love some one else more than she loved him, whether he and she really were made for each other, whether, in short, she cared for him enough to give herself entirely to him. But after they had been married six weeks there was no doubt left... Short Stories - Post by : whoops - Date : September 2011 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 3154

The Art Of Leaving Off The Art Of Leaving Off

The Art Of Leaving Off
It was a hot August Sunday, one of those days on which art itself must not be made too long lest it should shorten life. A little company of us had driven down from our hotel on the comparatively breezy hill to attend church in the village. The majority chose to pay their devotions at the big yellow meeting-house the preacher was reputed a man of eloquence; but my Uncle Peter drew me with him to the modest gray chapel, at the far end of the street, which was temporarily under the care of a student in the winter-school of... Short Stories - Post by : jimn10 - Date : December 2010 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 1172

Leviathan Leviathan

Leviathan
The village of Samaria in the central part of the State of Connecticut resembled the royal city of Israel, after which it was named, in one point only. It was perched upon the top of a hill, encircled by gentle valleys which divided it from an outer ring of hills still more elevated, almost mountainous. But, except this position in the centre of the stage, you would find nothing theatrical or striking about the little New England hill-town: no ivory palaces to draw down the denunciations of a minor prophet, no street of colonnades to girdle the green eminence with its... Short Stories - Post by : patrick_dowd - Date : December 2010 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 1905

Some Remarks On Gulls Some Remarks On Gulls

Some Remarks On Gulls
WITH A FOOT-NOTE ON A FISHICITY GULLSThe current estimate of the sea-gull as an intellectual force is compressed into the word "gullibility"--a verbal monument of contempt. But when we think how many things the gull does that we cannot do--how he has mastered the arts of flying and floating, so that he is equally at home in the air and on the water; how cleverly he adapts himself to his environment, keeping warm among the ice-floes in winter and cool when all the rest of the folks at the summer watering-places are sweltering in the heat; how well he holds his... Short Stories - Post by : wynningwaays - Date : December 2010 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 2007

Notions About Novels Notions About Novels

Notions About Novels
"You must write a novel," said my Uncle Peter to the young Man of Letters. "The novel is the literary form in which the psychological conditions of interest are most easily discovered and met. It appeals directly to the reader's self-consciousness, and invites him to fancy how fine a figure he would cut in more picturesque circumstances than his own. When it simplifies great events, as Stevenson said it must, it produces the feeling of power; and when it dignifies the commonplace, as Schopenhauer said it ought to, it produces the sense of importance. People like to imagine themselves playing on... Short Stories - Post by : infoseeker - Date : December 2010 - Author : Henry Van Dyke - Read : 3507