The Sign of the Broken Sword (A Father Brown Story)
The thousand arms of the forest were grey, and its million fingers silver. In a sky of dark green-blue-like slate the stars were bleak and brilliant like splintered ice. All that thickly wooded and sparsely tenanted countryside was stiff with a bitter and brittle frost. The black hollows between the trunks of the trees looked like bottomless, black caverns of that Scandinavian hell, a hell of incalculable cold. Even the square stone tower of the church looked northern to the point of heathenry, as if it were some barbaric tower among the sea rocks of Iceland. It was a queer night for anyone to explore a churchyard. But, on the other hand, perhaps it was worth exploring.
1118595791
The Sign of the Broken Sword (A Father Brown Story)
The thousand arms of the forest were grey, and its million fingers silver. In a sky of dark green-blue-like slate the stars were bleak and brilliant like splintered ice. All that thickly wooded and sparsely tenanted countryside was stiff with a bitter and brittle frost. The black hollows between the trunks of the trees looked like bottomless, black caverns of that Scandinavian hell, a hell of incalculable cold. Even the square stone tower of the church looked northern to the point of heathenry, as if it were some barbaric tower among the sea rocks of Iceland. It was a queer night for anyone to explore a churchyard. But, on the other hand, perhaps it was worth exploring.
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The Sign of the Broken Sword (A Father Brown Story)

The Sign of the Broken Sword (A Father Brown Story)

by G. K. Chesterton
The Sign of the Broken Sword (A Father Brown Story)

The Sign of the Broken Sword (A Father Brown Story)

by G. K. Chesterton

Paperback

$6.99 
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Overview

The thousand arms of the forest were grey, and its million fingers silver. In a sky of dark green-blue-like slate the stars were bleak and brilliant like splintered ice. All that thickly wooded and sparsely tenanted countryside was stiff with a bitter and brittle frost. The black hollows between the trunks of the trees looked like bottomless, black caverns of that Scandinavian hell, a hell of incalculable cold. Even the square stone tower of the church looked northern to the point of heathenry, as if it were some barbaric tower among the sea rocks of Iceland. It was a queer night for anyone to explore a churchyard. But, on the other hand, perhaps it was worth exploring.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781530963591
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
Publication date: 07/03/2016
Pages: 30
Product dimensions: 5.98(w) x 9.02(h) x 0.06(d)

About the Author

About The Author
British writer GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON (1874-1936) expounded prolifically about his wide-ranging philosophies. A man of strong opinions, with a humorous style that earned him the title of the "prince of paradox," he is impossible to categorize as "liberal" or "conservative": he was a literary critic, historian, playwright, novelist, columnist, and poet. His thousands of essays and 80 books remain among the most beloved in the English language.
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