Author, Chesterton, G. K. (Gilbert Keith), Title, The Wisdom of Father Brown. Contents, The absence of Mr. Glass -- The paradise of thieves -- The. The Innocence of Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton. No cover available. Download; Bibrec Download This eBook. The Wisdom of Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton. No cover available. Download; Bibrec Download This eBook.

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Father Brown Ebook

“Father Brown”. G. K. Chesterton. This web edition published by [email protected] Adelaide. Last updated Friday, May 27, at To the best of our knowledge. The Complete "Father Brown" by. G. K. Chesterton. The Innocence of Father Brown. 1. The Blue Cross. 2. The Secret Garden. 3. The Queer Feet. 4. The Flying . Father Brown is a fictional character created by English novelist G. K. Chesterton, who stars in 52 short stories, and is All ebooks from this series are available.

The fourth book in the Father Brown series , this contains 10 short stories: The Innocence of Father Brown G. The Wisdom of Father Brown G. The Incredulity of Father Brown G. The Scandal of Father Brown G. The Man Who Was Thursday:

But he was also, as it happened, introduced to one neighbour who, like himself, had brought into that valley the garb and manners of distant lands. He was a tall, thin grey-haired and very handsome gentleman, and his hands, cuffs and cuff-links had something overpowering in their polish.

But his long face had nothing of that languor which is associated with long cuffs and manicuring in the caricatures of our own country. It was rather arrestingly alert and keen; and the eyes had an innocent intensity of inquiry that does not go often with grey hairs. This was, indeed, no less a person than Mr. Grandison Chace, of Boston, an American traveller who had halted for a time in his American travels by taking a lease of the adjoining estate; a somewhat similar castle on a somewhat similar hill.

He delighted in his old castle, and he regarded his friendly neighbour as a local antiquity of the same type. For Flambeau managed, as we have said, really to look retired in the sense of rooted.

He might have grown there with his own vine and fig-tree for ages. He was fond of his wife and family; he never went farther afield than was needed for a little shooting; and he seemed, to the American globe-trotter, the embodiment of that cult of a sunny respectability and a temperate luxury, which the American was wise enough to see and admire in the Mediterranean peoples.

The rolling stone from the West was glad to rest for a moment on this rock in the South that had gathered so very much moss. But Mr. Chace had heard of Father Brown, and his tone faintly changed, as towards a celebrity. The interviewing instinct awoke, tactful but tense.

The Wisdom of Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton

If he did try to draw Father Brown, as if he were a tooth, it was done with the most dexterous and painless American dentistry. They were sitting in a sort of partly unroofed outer court of the house, such as often forms the entrance to Spanish houses.

It was dusk turning to dark; and as all that mountain air sharpens suddenly after sunset, a small stove stood on the flagstones, glowing with red eyes like a goblin, and painting a red pattern on the pavement; but scarcely a ray of it reached the lower bricks of the great bare, brown brick wall that went soaring up above them into the deep blue night.

In his shadow, the priest looked very shrunken and small, as if huddled over the stove; but the American visitor leaned forward elegantly with his elbow on his knee and his fine pointed features in the full light; his eyes shone with inquisitive intelligence. Categories All ebooks. About F.

Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton (5 books)

Contact Donate. Sitemap Privacy Policy. It was even possible to regard her for a moment as Mrs Potter, on the universal understanding that her husband was only the husband of Mrs Potter.

Then came the Great Scandal, by which her friends and enemies were horrified beyond their wildest hopes. Her name was coupled as the queer phrase goes with a literary man living in Mexico; in status an American, but in spirit a very Spanish American.

Unfortunately his vices resembled her virtues, in being good copy. He was no less a person than the famous or infamous Rudel Romanes; the poet whose works had been so universally popularized by being vetoed by libraries or prosecuted by the police.

Anyhow, her pure and placid star was seen in conjunction with this comet.

Father Brown

He was of the sort to be compared to a comet, being hairy and hot; the first in his portraits, the second in his poetry. It was hard on Hypatia; there are disadvantages in conducting the perfect private life in public; like a domestic interior in a shop-window. The Pagans applauded. He was a slashing and savage critic of national degeneration, on the Minneapolis Meteor, and a bold and honest man. He had perhaps come to specialize too much in the spirit of indignation, but it had had a healthy enough origin in his reaction against sloppy attempts to confuse right and wrong in modern journalism and gossip.

He expressed it first in the form of a protest against an unholy halo of romance being thrown round the gunman and the gangster. Perhaps he was rather too much inclined to assume, in robust impatience, that all gangsters were Dagos and that all Dagos were gangsters.

But his prejudices, even when they were a little provincial, were rather refreshing after a certain sort of maudlin and unmanly hero-worship, which was ready to regard a professional murderer as a leader of fashion, so long as the pressmen reported that his smile was irresistible or his tuxedo was all right.

Anyhow, the prejudices did not boil the less in the bosom of Mr Rock, because he was actually in the land of the Dagos when this story opens; striding furiously up a hill beyond the Mexican border, to the white hotel, fringed with ornamental palms, in which it was supposed that the Potters were staying and that the mysterious Hypatia now held her court.

Agar Rock was a good specimen of a Puritan, even to look at; he might even have been a virile Puritan of the seventeenth century, rather than the softer and more sophisticated Puritan of the twentieth. If you had told him that his antiquated black hat and habitual black frown, and fine flinty features, cast a gloom over the sunny land of palms and vines, he would have been very much gratified. He looked to right and left with eyes bright with universal suspicions. And, as he did so, he saw two figures on the ridge above him, outlined against the clear sub-tropical sunset; figures in a momentary posture which might have made even a less suspicious man suspect something.

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