The Feast of St. Friend: A Christmas Book

Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book The Feast of St. Friend: A Christmas Book by Arnold Bennett, Library of Alexandria
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: Arnold Bennett ISBN: 9781613105054
Publisher: Library of Alexandria Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Arnold Bennett
ISBN: 9781613105054
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English

Something has happened to Christmas, or to our hearts; or to both. In order to be convinced of this it is only necessary to compare the present with the past. In the old days of not so long ago the festival began to excite us in November. For weeks the house rustled with charming and thrilling secrets, and with the furtive noises of paper parcels being wrapped and unwrapped; the house was a whispering gallery. The tension of expectancy increased to such a point that there was a positive danger of the cord snapping before it ought to snap. On the Eve we went to bed with no hope of settled sleep. We knew that we should be wakened and kept awake by the waits singing in the cold; and we were glad to be kept awake so. On the supreme day we came downstairs hiding delicious yawns, and cordially pretending that we had never been more fit. The day was different from other days; it had a unique romantic quality, tonic, curative of all ills. On that day even the tooth-ache vanished, retiring far into the wilderness with the spiteful word, the venomous thought, and the unlovely gesture. We sang with gusto "Christians awake, salute the happy morn." We did salute the happy morn. And when all the parcels were definitely unpacked, and the secrets of all hearts disclosed, we spent the rest of the happy morn in waiting, candidly greedy, for the first of the great meals. And then we ate, and we drank, and we ate again; with no thought of nutrition, nor of reasonableness, nor of the morrow, nor of dyspepsia. We ate and drank without fear and without shame, in the sheer, abandoned ecstasy of celebration. And by means of motley paper headgear, fit only for a carnival, we disguised ourselves in the most absurd fashions, and yet did not make ourselves seriously ridiculous; for ridicule is in the vision, not in what is seen. And we danced and sang and larked, until we could no more. And finally we chanted a song of ceremony, and separated; ending the day as we had commenced it, with salvoes of good wishes. And the next morning we were indisposed and enfeebled; and we did not care; we suffered gladly; we had our pain's worth, and more. This was the past.

View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart

Something has happened to Christmas, or to our hearts; or to both. In order to be convinced of this it is only necessary to compare the present with the past. In the old days of not so long ago the festival began to excite us in November. For weeks the house rustled with charming and thrilling secrets, and with the furtive noises of paper parcels being wrapped and unwrapped; the house was a whispering gallery. The tension of expectancy increased to such a point that there was a positive danger of the cord snapping before it ought to snap. On the Eve we went to bed with no hope of settled sleep. We knew that we should be wakened and kept awake by the waits singing in the cold; and we were glad to be kept awake so. On the supreme day we came downstairs hiding delicious yawns, and cordially pretending that we had never been more fit. The day was different from other days; it had a unique romantic quality, tonic, curative of all ills. On that day even the tooth-ache vanished, retiring far into the wilderness with the spiteful word, the venomous thought, and the unlovely gesture. We sang with gusto "Christians awake, salute the happy morn." We did salute the happy morn. And when all the parcels were definitely unpacked, and the secrets of all hearts disclosed, we spent the rest of the happy morn in waiting, candidly greedy, for the first of the great meals. And then we ate, and we drank, and we ate again; with no thought of nutrition, nor of reasonableness, nor of the morrow, nor of dyspepsia. We ate and drank without fear and without shame, in the sheer, abandoned ecstasy of celebration. And by means of motley paper headgear, fit only for a carnival, we disguised ourselves in the most absurd fashions, and yet did not make ourselves seriously ridiculous; for ridicule is in the vision, not in what is seen. And we danced and sang and larked, until we could no more. And finally we chanted a song of ceremony, and separated; ending the day as we had commenced it, with salvoes of good wishes. And the next morning we were indisposed and enfeebled; and we did not care; we suffered gladly; we had our pain's worth, and more. This was the past.

More books from Library of Alexandria

Cover of the book Studies of a Biographer by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson (Complete) by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book With the Ulster Division in France: A Story of the 11th Battalion Royal Irish Rifles, South Antrim Volunteers From Bordon to Thiepval by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book A Study of Shakespeare by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book The Complete Works of Plotinos by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book Fires: The Stone and Other Tales by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book Novelas Do Minho by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book The Bridal March and One Day by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book Frank Merriwell's Alarm: Doing His Best by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book Under the Ensign of the Rising Sun: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book Rajmohan's Wife: A Novel by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book The Devil by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book Farewell by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book The Lady in the Case, Complete Mystery Novelet by Arnold Bennett
Cover of the book The Kojiki by Arnold Bennett
We use our own "cookies" and third party cookies to improve services and to see statistical information. By using this website, you agree to our Privacy Policy