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Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen
One of 1200 copies. A short reminiscent story about Thanksgiving day. 18 pages. stiff paper wrappers, cord tied. 12mo.
Audio Cassette
Published November 1, 1999
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About the author
O. Henry
2,919 books1,891 followersSuch volumes as
Cabbages and Kings
(1904) and
The Four Million
(1906) collect short stories, noted for their often surprising endings, of American writer William Sydney Porter, who used the pen name O. Henry.
His biography shows where he found inspiration for his characters. His era produced their voices and his language.
Mother of three-year-old Porter died from tuberculosis. He left school at fifteen years of age and worked for five years in drugstore of his uncle and then for two years at a Texas sheep ranch.
In 1884, he went to Austin, where he worked in a real estate office and a church choir and spent four years as a draftsman in the general land office. His wife and firstborn died, but daughter Margaret survived him.
He failed to establish a small humorous weekly and afterward worked in poorly-run bank. When its accounts balanced not, people blamed and fired him.
In Houston, he worked for a few years until, ordered to stand trial for embezzlement, he fled to New Orleans and thence Honduras.
Two years later, he returned on account of illness of his wife. Apprehended, Porter served a few months more than three years in a penitentiary in Columbus, Ohio. During his incarceration, he composed ten short stories, including A Blackjack Bargainer , The Enchanted Kiss , and The Duplicity of Hargraves .
In 1899, McClure's published Whistling Dick's Christmas Story and Georgia's Ruling .
In Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, he sent manuscripts to New York editors. In the spring of 1902, Ainslee's Magazine offered him a regular income if he moved to New York.
In less than eight years, he became a bestselling author of collections of short stories. Cabbages and Kings came first in 1904 The Four Million, and The Trimmed Lamp and Heart of the West followed in 1907, and The Voice of the City in 1908, Roads of Destiny and Options in 1909, Strictly Business and Whirligigs in 1910 followed.
Posthumously published collections include The Gentle Grafter about the swindler, Jeff Peters; Rolling Stones , Waifs and Strays , and in 1936, unsigned stories, followed.
People rewarded other persons financially more. A Retrieved Reformation about the safe-cracker Jimmy Valentine got $250; six years later, $500 for dramatic rights, which gave over $100,000 royalties for playwright Paul Armstrong. Many stories have been made into films.
His biography shows where he found inspiration for his characters. His era produced their voices and his language.
Mother of three-year-old Porter died from tuberculosis. He left school at fifteen years of age and worked for five years in drugstore of his uncle and then for two years at a Texas sheep ranch.
In 1884, he went to Austin, where he worked in a real estate office and a church choir and spent four years as a draftsman in the general land office. His wife and firstborn died, but daughter Margaret survived him.
He failed to establish a small humorous weekly and afterward worked in poorly-run bank. When its accounts balanced not, people blamed and fired him.
In Houston, he worked for a few years until, ordered to stand trial for embezzlement, he fled to New Orleans and thence Honduras.
Two years later, he returned on account of illness of his wife. Apprehended, Porter served a few months more than three years in a penitentiary in Columbus, Ohio. During his incarceration, he composed ten short stories, including A Blackjack Bargainer , The Enchanted Kiss , and The Duplicity of Hargraves .
In 1899, McClure's published Whistling Dick's Christmas Story and Georgia's Ruling .
In Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, he sent manuscripts to New York editors. In the spring of 1902, Ainslee's Magazine offered him a regular income if he moved to New York.
In less than eight years, he became a bestselling author of collections of short stories. Cabbages and Kings came first in 1904 The Four Million, and The Trimmed Lamp and Heart of the West followed in 1907, and The Voice of the City in 1908, Roads of Destiny and Options in 1909, Strictly Business and Whirligigs in 1910 followed.
Posthumously published collections include The Gentle Grafter about the swindler, Jeff Peters; Rolling Stones , Waifs and Strays , and in 1936, unsigned stories, followed.
People rewarded other persons financially more. A Retrieved Reformation about the safe-cracker Jimmy Valentine got $250; six years later, $500 for dramatic rights, which gave over $100,000 royalties for playwright Paul Armstrong. Many stories have been made into films.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 32 reviews
September 10, 2016
It is a strange thing. There are rich people who wish to help the poor. But many of them seem to think that the poor are hungry only on Thanksgiving Day!
November 20, 2015
One thing I greatly enjoy about O. Henry is that he creates such rich personalities and descriptions of the destitute. He brings life to the poor American much the way photographers such as Dorothea Lange brought life to Florence Owens Thompson (Migrant Mother). I found it fascinating how O. Henry portrayed tradition as more important than helping the needy throughout the year, something that can still be seen in a not as young country as it was during O. Henry's time. O. Henry also knows how to paint a picture of the well to do, there need for more in their lives than money, he expressed the loneliness quite well in the Old Gentleman's story. Such a story of irony, much like in "The Gift of the Magi," where two people try to make the other's life better.
November 26, 2022
I thought I'd read all his stories but this was a new find. Made my day! This tale highlights the typical O. Henry dry wit and twist ending. The main protagonist, a poor man named Stuffy, meets with an Old Gentleman every year to enjoy a sumptuous meal at Thanksgiving. But there's a problem this year: Stuffy has already had his fill of Thanksgiving cheer. What will happen to the annual tradition?
November 25, 2016
I have arranged my thoughts into a haiku:
"Practical or not,
These two will keep tradition
As gentlemen would."
"Practical or not,
These two will keep tradition
As gentlemen would."
October 11, 2022
O. Henry brings humor to a tragic problem in "Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen" he brings up the farce of feeding super well for one day a year, when some need it more often and those who take charity without a qualm and others who simply do not. A lot here to think about.
Story in short- A nine year pact takes a turn one Thanksgiving for two men.
➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6041
THERE IS ONE day that is ours. There is one day when all we Americans who are not self-made go back to the old home to eat saleratus biscuits and marvel how much nearer to the porch the old pump looks than it used to. Bless the day. President Roosevelt gives it to us. We hear some talk of the Puritans, but don’t just remember who they were.
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6044
Bet we can lick ’em, anyhow, if they try to land again. Plymouth Rocks? Well, that sounds more familiar. Lots of us have had to come down to hens since the Turkey Trust got its work in. But somebody in Washington is leaking out advance information to ’em about these Thanksgiving proclamations. The big city east of the cranberry bogs has made Thanksgiving Day an institution. The last Thursday in November is the only day in the year on which it recognizes the part of America lying across the ferries. It
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6048
is the one day that is purely American. Yes, a day of celebration, exclusively American. And now for the story which is to prove to you that we have traditions on this side of the ocean that are becoming older at a much rapider rate than those of England are — thanks to our git-up and enterprise. Stuffy Pete took his seat on the third bench to the right as you enter Union Square from the east, at the walk opposite the fountain. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had taken his seat there promptly
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6052
at 1 o’clock. For every time he had done so things had happened to him — Charles Dickensy things that swelled his waistcoat above his heart, and equally on the other side. But to-day Stuffy Pete’s appearance at the annual trysting place seemed to have been rather the result of habit than of the yearly hunger which, as the philanthropists seem to think, afflicts the poor at such extended intervals. Certainly Pete was not hungry. He had just come from a feast that had left him of his powers barely those
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6056
of respiration and locomotion. His eyes were like two pale gooseberries firmly imbedded in a swollen and gravy- smeared mask of putty. His breath came in short wheezes; a senatorial roll of adipose tissue denied a fashionable set to his upturned coat collar. Buttons that had been sewed upon his clothes by kind Salvation fingers a week before flew like popcorn, strewing the earth around him. Ragged he was, with a split shirt front open to the wishbone; but the November breeze, carrying fine snowflakes, brought
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6059
him only a grateful coolness. For Stuffy Pete was overcharged with the caloric produced by a super-bountiful dinner, beginning with oysters and ending with plum pudding, and including (it seemed to him) all the roast turkey and baked potatoes and chicken salad and squash pie and ice cream in the world. Wherefore he sat, gorged, and gazed upon the world with after-dinner contempt. The meal had been an unexpected one. He was passing a red brick mansion near the beginning
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6062
of Fifth avenue, in which lived two old ladies of ancient family and a reverence for traditions. They even denied the existence of New York, and believed that Thanksgiving Day was declared solely for Washington Square. One of their traditional habits was to station a servant at the postern gate with orders to admit the first hungry wayfarer that came along after the hour of noon had struck, and banquet him to a finish. Stuffy Pete happened to pass by on his way to the park, and
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6066
the seneschals gathered him in and upheld the custom of the castle. After Stuffy Pete had gazed straight before him for ten minutes he was conscious of a desire for a more varied field of vision. With a tremendous effort he moved his head slowly to the left. And then his eyes bulged out fearfully, and his breath ceased, and the rough- shod ends of his short legs wriggled and rustled on the gravel. For the Old Gentleman was coming across Fourth avenue toward his bench.
❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌spoiler alert
Stuffy Pete seems to be not in extreme need, does he live on the streets? Can he get a job but refuses work? His girth tells that of no what of need that he is starving, he apparently finds a way to survive, either by help of philanthropy or other means. Every Thanksgiving for the last 9 years, an elderly gentleman pays for his Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant and enjoys seeing him eat. This gentleman is without family and he particularly wishes he had a son to bestow upon, so Pete becomes his yearly focus. Pete happened to be walking down the street and was chosen as a Thanksgiving guest for a royal kind of dinner given by some wealthy ladies, so he has had one huge dinner which has almost popped his buttons, so he did not want to refuse his yearly friendly offer by the elderly gentleman, which he accepts but soon lands him in the hospital, unknown to the doctors of his over digestion, he is worked up. The doctors discuss about an elderly starving man who has not eaten in three days, it is the same man who gave Pete his yearly dinner, did he save up so he could feed his friend? Is it Pete's fault? No, but it is apparent that his needs are not as of great that do not seek philanthropy when they should, even if it is just in basic needs. It is sad that some look to get what they can without worrying about the truly needy, not blaming Pete, he is just looking for what he can get but there comes a certain point when milking the system is something to be ashamed of doing and looking to the truly needy.
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6069
Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years the Old Gentleman had come there and found Stuffy Pete on his bench. That was a thing that the Old Gentleman was trying to make a tradition of. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had found Stuffy there, and had led him to a restaurant and watched him eat a big dinner. They do those things in England unconsciously. But this is a young country, and nine years is not so bad. The Old Gentleman was a staunch American patriot, and considered himself a pioneer in
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6073
American tradition. In order to become picturesque we must keep on doing one thing for a long time without ever letting it get away from us. Something like collecting the weekly dimes in industrial insurance. Or cleaning the streets. The Old Gentleman moved, straight and stately, toward the Institution that he was rearing. Truly, the annual feeding of Stuffy Pete was nothing national in its character, such as the Magna Charta or jam for breakfast was in England. But it was a step. It was almost feudal. It
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6076
showed, at least, that a Custom was not impossible to New Y — ahem! — America. The Old Gentleman was thin and tall and sixty. He was dressed all in black, and wore the old-fashioned kind of glasses that won’t stay on your nose. His hair was whiter and thinner than it had been last year, and he seemed to make more use of his big, knobby cane with the crooked handle. As his established benefactor came up Stuffy wheezed and shuddered like some woman’s over-fat
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6080
pug when a street dog bristles up at him. He would have flown, but all the skill of Santos-Dumont could not have separated him from his bench. Well had the myrmidons of the two old ladies done their work. “Good morning,” said the Old Gentleman. “I am glad to perceive that the vicissitudes of another year have spared you to move in health about the beautiful world. For that blessing alone this day of thanksgiving is well proclaimed to each of us. If you will come with me, my man, I will provide you with a dinner that should make your physical being accord with the mental.” That is what the old Gentleman said every time. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years. The words themselves almost formed an Institution. Nothing could be compared with them except the Declaration of Independence. Always before they had been music in Stuffy’s ears. But now he looked up at the Old Gentleman’s face with tearful agony in his own. The fine snow almost sizzled when it fell upon his perspiring brow. But the Old Gentleman
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6088
shivered a little and turned his back to the wind. Stuffy had always wondered why the Old Gentleman spoke his speech rather sadly. He did not know that it was because he was wishing every time that he had a son to succeed him. A son who would come there after he was gone — a son who would stand proud and strong before some subsequent Stuffy, and say: “In memory of my father.” Then it would be an Institution. But the Old Gentleman had no relatives. He lived in rented rooms
Highlight (Yellow) and Note | Location 6091
in one of the decayed old family brownstone mansions in one of the quiet streets east of the park. In the winter he raised fuchsias in a little conservatory the size of a steamer trunk. In the spring he walked in the Easter parade. In the summer he lived at a farmhouse in the New Jersey hills, and sat in a wicker armchair, speaking of a butterfly, the ornithoptera amphrisius, that he hoped to find some day. In the autumn he fed Stuffy a dinner. These were the Old Gentleman’s occupations.
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6095
Stuffy Pete looked up at him for a half minute, stewing and helpless in his own self-pity. The Old Gentleman’s eyes were bright with the giving-pleasure. His face was getting more lined each year, but his little black necktie was in as jaunty a bow as ever, and the linen was beautiful and white, and his gray mustache was curled carefully at the ends. And then Stuffy made a noise that sounded like peas bubbling in a pot. Speech was intended; and as the Old Gentleman had heard the sounds nine times before, he rightly construed them into Stuffy’s old formula of acceptance. “Thankee, sir. I’ll go with ye, and much obliged. I’m very hungry, sir.” The coma of repletion had not prevented from entering Stuffy’s mind the conviction that he was the basis of an Institution. His Thanksgiving appetite was not his own; it belonged by all the sacred rights of established custom, if not, by the actual Statute of Limitations, to this kind old gentleman who bad preempted it. True, America is free; but in order to establish tradition some
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6103
one must be a repetend — a repeating decimal. The heroes are not all heroes of steel and gold. See one here that wielded only weapons of iron, badly silvered, and tin. The Old Gentleman led his annual protege southward to the restaurant, and to the table where the feast had always occurred. They were recognized. “Here comes de old guy,” said a waiter, “dat blows dat same bum to a meal every Thanksgiving.” The Old Gentleman sat across the table glowing like a smoked
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6107
pearl at his corner-stone of future ancient Tradition. The waiters heaped the table with holiday food — and Stuffy, with a sigh that was mistaken for hunger’s expression, raised knife and fork and carved for himself a crown of imperishable bay. No more valiant hero ever fought his way through the ranks of an enemy. Turkey, chops, soups, vegetables, pies, disappeared before him as fast as they could be served. Gorged nearly to the uttermost when he entered the restaurant, the smell of food had almost caused him to lose his honor as a gentleman, but he rallied like a true knight. He saw the look of beneficent happiness on the Old Gentleman’s face — a happier look than even the fuchsias and the ornithoptera amphrisius had ever brought to it — and he had not the heart to see it wane. In an hour Stuffy leaned back with a battle won. “Thankee kindly, sir,” he puffed like a leaky steam pipe; “thankee kindly for a hearty meal.” Then he arose heavily with
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6114
glazed eyes and started toward the kitchen. A waiter turned him about like a top, and pointed him toward the door. The Old Gentleman carefully counted out $1.30 in silver change, leaving three nickels for the waiter. They parted as they did each year at the door, the Old Gentleman going south, Stuffy north. Around the first corner Stuffy turned, and stood for one minute. Then he seemed to puff out his rags as an owl puffs out his feathers,
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6117
and fell to the sidewalk like a sunstricken horse. When the ambulance came the young surgeon and the driver cursed softly at his weight. There was no smell of whiskey to justify a transfer to the patrol wagon, so Stuffy and his two dinners went to the hospital. There they stretched him on a bed and began to test him for strange diseases, with the hope of getting a chance at some problem with the bare steel. And lo! an hour later another ambulance brought the Old Gentleman. And they laid him on another bed and spoke of appendicitis, for he looked good for the bill. But pretty soon one of the young doctors met one of the young nurses whose eyes he liked, and stopped to chat with her about the cases. “That nice old gentleman over there, now,” he said, “you wouldn’t think that was a case of almost starvation. Proud old family, I guess. He told me he hadn’t eaten a thing for three days.”
Story in short- A nine year pact takes a turn one Thanksgiving for two men.
➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6041
THERE IS ONE day that is ours. There is one day when all we Americans who are not self-made go back to the old home to eat saleratus biscuits and marvel how much nearer to the porch the old pump looks than it used to. Bless the day. President Roosevelt gives it to us. We hear some talk of the Puritans, but don’t just remember who they were.
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6044
Bet we can lick ’em, anyhow, if they try to land again. Plymouth Rocks? Well, that sounds more familiar. Lots of us have had to come down to hens since the Turkey Trust got its work in. But somebody in Washington is leaking out advance information to ’em about these Thanksgiving proclamations. The big city east of the cranberry bogs has made Thanksgiving Day an institution. The last Thursday in November is the only day in the year on which it recognizes the part of America lying across the ferries. It
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6048
is the one day that is purely American. Yes, a day of celebration, exclusively American. And now for the story which is to prove to you that we have traditions on this side of the ocean that are becoming older at a much rapider rate than those of England are — thanks to our git-up and enterprise. Stuffy Pete took his seat on the third bench to the right as you enter Union Square from the east, at the walk opposite the fountain. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had taken his seat there promptly
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6052
at 1 o’clock. For every time he had done so things had happened to him — Charles Dickensy things that swelled his waistcoat above his heart, and equally on the other side. But to-day Stuffy Pete’s appearance at the annual trysting place seemed to have been rather the result of habit than of the yearly hunger which, as the philanthropists seem to think, afflicts the poor at such extended intervals. Certainly Pete was not hungry. He had just come from a feast that had left him of his powers barely those
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6056
of respiration and locomotion. His eyes were like two pale gooseberries firmly imbedded in a swollen and gravy- smeared mask of putty. His breath came in short wheezes; a senatorial roll of adipose tissue denied a fashionable set to his upturned coat collar. Buttons that had been sewed upon his clothes by kind Salvation fingers a week before flew like popcorn, strewing the earth around him. Ragged he was, with a split shirt front open to the wishbone; but the November breeze, carrying fine snowflakes, brought
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6059
him only a grateful coolness. For Stuffy Pete was overcharged with the caloric produced by a super-bountiful dinner, beginning with oysters and ending with plum pudding, and including (it seemed to him) all the roast turkey and baked potatoes and chicken salad and squash pie and ice cream in the world. Wherefore he sat, gorged, and gazed upon the world with after-dinner contempt. The meal had been an unexpected one. He was passing a red brick mansion near the beginning
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6062
of Fifth avenue, in which lived two old ladies of ancient family and a reverence for traditions. They even denied the existence of New York, and believed that Thanksgiving Day was declared solely for Washington Square. One of their traditional habits was to station a servant at the postern gate with orders to admit the first hungry wayfarer that came along after the hour of noon had struck, and banquet him to a finish. Stuffy Pete happened to pass by on his way to the park, and
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6066
the seneschals gathered him in and upheld the custom of the castle. After Stuffy Pete had gazed straight before him for ten minutes he was conscious of a desire for a more varied field of vision. With a tremendous effort he moved his head slowly to the left. And then his eyes bulged out fearfully, and his breath ceased, and the rough- shod ends of his short legs wriggled and rustled on the gravel. For the Old Gentleman was coming across Fourth avenue toward his bench.
❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌spoiler alert
Stuffy Pete seems to be not in extreme need, does he live on the streets? Can he get a job but refuses work? His girth tells that of no what of need that he is starving, he apparently finds a way to survive, either by help of philanthropy or other means. Every Thanksgiving for the last 9 years, an elderly gentleman pays for his Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant and enjoys seeing him eat. This gentleman is without family and he particularly wishes he had a son to bestow upon, so Pete becomes his yearly focus. Pete happened to be walking down the street and was chosen as a Thanksgiving guest for a royal kind of dinner given by some wealthy ladies, so he has had one huge dinner which has almost popped his buttons, so he did not want to refuse his yearly friendly offer by the elderly gentleman, which he accepts but soon lands him in the hospital, unknown to the doctors of his over digestion, he is worked up. The doctors discuss about an elderly starving man who has not eaten in three days, it is the same man who gave Pete his yearly dinner, did he save up so he could feed his friend? Is it Pete's fault? No, but it is apparent that his needs are not as of great that do not seek philanthropy when they should, even if it is just in basic needs. It is sad that some look to get what they can without worrying about the truly needy, not blaming Pete, he is just looking for what he can get but there comes a certain point when milking the system is something to be ashamed of doing and looking to the truly needy.
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6069
Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years the Old Gentleman had come there and found Stuffy Pete on his bench. That was a thing that the Old Gentleman was trying to make a tradition of. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had found Stuffy there, and had led him to a restaurant and watched him eat a big dinner. They do those things in England unconsciously. But this is a young country, and nine years is not so bad. The Old Gentleman was a staunch American patriot, and considered himself a pioneer in
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6073
American tradition. In order to become picturesque we must keep on doing one thing for a long time without ever letting it get away from us. Something like collecting the weekly dimes in industrial insurance. Or cleaning the streets. The Old Gentleman moved, straight and stately, toward the Institution that he was rearing. Truly, the annual feeding of Stuffy Pete was nothing national in its character, such as the Magna Charta or jam for breakfast was in England. But it was a step. It was almost feudal. It
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6076
showed, at least, that a Custom was not impossible to New Y — ahem! — America. The Old Gentleman was thin and tall and sixty. He was dressed all in black, and wore the old-fashioned kind of glasses that won’t stay on your nose. His hair was whiter and thinner than it had been last year, and he seemed to make more use of his big, knobby cane with the crooked handle. As his established benefactor came up Stuffy wheezed and shuddered like some woman’s over-fat
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6080
pug when a street dog bristles up at him. He would have flown, but all the skill of Santos-Dumont could not have separated him from his bench. Well had the myrmidons of the two old ladies done their work. “Good morning,” said the Old Gentleman. “I am glad to perceive that the vicissitudes of another year have spared you to move in health about the beautiful world. For that blessing alone this day of thanksgiving is well proclaimed to each of us. If you will come with me, my man, I will provide you with a dinner that should make your physical being accord with the mental.” That is what the old Gentleman said every time. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years. The words themselves almost formed an Institution. Nothing could be compared with them except the Declaration of Independence. Always before they had been music in Stuffy’s ears. But now he looked up at the Old Gentleman’s face with tearful agony in his own. The fine snow almost sizzled when it fell upon his perspiring brow. But the Old Gentleman
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6088
shivered a little and turned his back to the wind. Stuffy had always wondered why the Old Gentleman spoke his speech rather sadly. He did not know that it was because he was wishing every time that he had a son to succeed him. A son who would come there after he was gone — a son who would stand proud and strong before some subsequent Stuffy, and say: “In memory of my father.” Then it would be an Institution. But the Old Gentleman had no relatives. He lived in rented rooms
Highlight (Yellow) and Note | Location 6091
in one of the decayed old family brownstone mansions in one of the quiet streets east of the park. In the winter he raised fuchsias in a little conservatory the size of a steamer trunk. In the spring he walked in the Easter parade. In the summer he lived at a farmhouse in the New Jersey hills, and sat in a wicker armchair, speaking of a butterfly, the ornithoptera amphrisius, that he hoped to find some day. In the autumn he fed Stuffy a dinner. These were the Old Gentleman’s occupations.
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6095
Stuffy Pete looked up at him for a half minute, stewing and helpless in his own self-pity. The Old Gentleman’s eyes were bright with the giving-pleasure. His face was getting more lined each year, but his little black necktie was in as jaunty a bow as ever, and the linen was beautiful and white, and his gray mustache was curled carefully at the ends. And then Stuffy made a noise that sounded like peas bubbling in a pot. Speech was intended; and as the Old Gentleman had heard the sounds nine times before, he rightly construed them into Stuffy’s old formula of acceptance. “Thankee, sir. I’ll go with ye, and much obliged. I’m very hungry, sir.” The coma of repletion had not prevented from entering Stuffy’s mind the conviction that he was the basis of an Institution. His Thanksgiving appetite was not his own; it belonged by all the sacred rights of established custom, if not, by the actual Statute of Limitations, to this kind old gentleman who bad preempted it. True, America is free; but in order to establish tradition some
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6103
one must be a repetend — a repeating decimal. The heroes are not all heroes of steel and gold. See one here that wielded only weapons of iron, badly silvered, and tin. The Old Gentleman led his annual protege southward to the restaurant, and to the table where the feast had always occurred. They were recognized. “Here comes de old guy,” said a waiter, “dat blows dat same bum to a meal every Thanksgiving.” The Old Gentleman sat across the table glowing like a smoked
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6107
pearl at his corner-stone of future ancient Tradition. The waiters heaped the table with holiday food — and Stuffy, with a sigh that was mistaken for hunger’s expression, raised knife and fork and carved for himself a crown of imperishable bay. No more valiant hero ever fought his way through the ranks of an enemy. Turkey, chops, soups, vegetables, pies, disappeared before him as fast as they could be served. Gorged nearly to the uttermost when he entered the restaurant, the smell of food had almost caused him to lose his honor as a gentleman, but he rallied like a true knight. He saw the look of beneficent happiness on the Old Gentleman’s face — a happier look than even the fuchsias and the ornithoptera amphrisius had ever brought to it — and he had not the heart to see it wane. In an hour Stuffy leaned back with a battle won. “Thankee kindly, sir,” he puffed like a leaky steam pipe; “thankee kindly for a hearty meal.” Then he arose heavily with
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6114
glazed eyes and started toward the kitchen. A waiter turned him about like a top, and pointed him toward the door. The Old Gentleman carefully counted out $1.30 in silver change, leaving three nickels for the waiter. They parted as they did each year at the door, the Old Gentleman going south, Stuffy north. Around the first corner Stuffy turned, and stood for one minute. Then he seemed to puff out his rags as an owl puffs out his feathers,
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 6117
and fell to the sidewalk like a sunstricken horse. When the ambulance came the young surgeon and the driver cursed softly at his weight. There was no smell of whiskey to justify a transfer to the patrol wagon, so Stuffy and his two dinners went to the hospital. There they stretched him on a bed and began to test him for strange diseases, with the hope of getting a chance at some problem with the bare steel. And lo! an hour later another ambulance brought the Old Gentleman. And they laid him on another bed and spoke of appendicitis, for he looked good for the bill. But pretty soon one of the young doctors met one of the young nurses whose eyes he liked, and stopped to chat with her about the cases. “That nice old gentleman over there, now,” he said, “you wouldn’t think that was a case of almost starvation. Proud old family, I guess. He told me he hadn’t eaten a thing for three days.”
December 6, 2021
I believe this is a typical O. Henry story with the surprise plot twist.
O. Henry has a resplendent vocabulary (he used the word repetend meaning a repeating decimal in a story about Thanksgiving) however, twas a detractor for me. Maybe a version will be printed with definitions included so one doesn’t get hung up on
That is the reason I gave it only three stars.
I finished the story with good questions (what happened in the backstory, why did it play out like that, why did he use the word repetend…?) Because there is so much to think about after the story ends they are quite memorable.
O. Henry has a resplendent vocabulary (he used the word repetend meaning a repeating decimal in a story about Thanksgiving) however, twas a detractor for me. Maybe a version will be printed with definitions included so one doesn’t get hung up on
That is the reason I gave it only three stars.
I finished the story with good questions (what happened in the backstory, why did it play out like that, why did he use the word repetend…?) Because there is so much to think about after the story ends they are quite memorable.
November 30, 2021
Essentially the Thanksgiving version of "Gift of the Magi," although slightly darker. It stays true to O. Henry's love of irony and endings that pack a "twist" while also calling into question the meaning of Thanksgiving. It isn't entirely clear if he mocks those who attempt to create traditions and adhere to them strictly (even when it harms us) or if he celebrates the purity of those who have good intentions and live their lives to be kind to others.
February 17, 2022
O. Henry is probably neglected today. I was fortunate to have been able to listen to some stories at lunch in elementary school. This was new to me, perhaps the usual twist to your heart, but what is wrong with that? Excellent.
January 30, 2021
Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen by O.Henry is a sarcastic story narrated in his characteristic way by O.Henry.
It is the story of an Old Gentleman who feeds a man named Stuffy on every Thanksgiving day. He has been doing it for nine years as a part of establishing a tradition. But, this year Stuffy was full . But, still when the old man arrives to invite him for the dinner, he accepts it. Stuffy fills his stomach to make the old man happy, but, later gets hospitalised. The old man gets admitted in the same hospital out of hunger.
O Henry o ironically presents the concept of establishing a tradition. They give undue importance to the traditions that they forget about themselves. It is relevant in today's world where men run for money in spite of taking care of their health or family. The story made me think about various aspects of life.
It is the story of an Old Gentleman who feeds a man named Stuffy on every Thanksgiving day. He has been doing it for nine years as a part of establishing a tradition. But, this year Stuffy was full . But, still when the old man arrives to invite him for the dinner, he accepts it. Stuffy fills his stomach to make the old man happy, but, later gets hospitalised. The old man gets admitted in the same hospital out of hunger.
O Henry o ironically presents the concept of establishing a tradition. They give undue importance to the traditions that they forget about themselves. It is relevant in today's world where men run for money in spite of taking care of their health or family. The story made me think about various aspects of life.
October 26, 2020
Ironic in true O. Henry style, but I didn't get it in my first read.
I had to sit and reflect; then jump on google. I feel like the story had skipped a few levels. It put so much emphasis on the fact the older gentleman was comfortable and wealthy, so I didn't link that he starved for the sake of the tradition of feeding Stuffy Pete.
I had to sit and reflect; then jump on google. I feel like the story had skipped a few levels. It put so much emphasis on the fact the older gentleman was comfortable and wealthy, so I didn't link that he starved for the sake of the tradition of feeding Stuffy Pete.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 14, 2024
Wonderful O Henry tale with the expected surprise ending!
I've always loved the simplicity of O Henry's stories, so filled with wonderful, mellifluous words, descriptions that far exceed what modern readers are used to and characters that one can love in a few short pages! This was one of his stories I'd somehow missed but one I will now treasure just like his others!
I've always loved the simplicity of O Henry's stories, so filled with wonderful, mellifluous words, descriptions that far exceed what modern readers are used to and characters that one can love in a few short pages! This was one of his stories I'd somehow missed but one I will now treasure just like his others!
November 16, 2024
I haven’t read a lot of O Henry, although The Gift of the Magi is a story I read in high school and have never forgotten. This one reminded me of that a little bit due to the unexpected twist at the end. I always wonder when people feed the hungry on holidays, what do they expect them to do the rest of the year? This definitely didn’t answer that question!
May 12, 2021
I can never decide if I love or hate O. Henry.
I do love the irony of his stories. The social commentary (particularly in this one.)
I do hate that people romanticize them.
The only real issue is this one ends a touch too abruptly.
I do love the irony of his stories. The social commentary (particularly in this one.)
I do hate that people romanticize them.
The only real issue is this one ends a touch too abruptly.
November 13, 2018
a typical O Henry story
July 27, 2019
Ironic. The things you do in the name of tradition can really be harmful. The damage no speaking can bring.
August 8, 2020
The strange acts that life pushes us to play. Very beautifully carved.
November 14, 2020
It was ironically funny in that sad, O. Henry fashion. I do love to read his descriptive writing.
March 19, 2021
One man takes the kindness shown to him in stride without offering anything in return and another who wanted to leave a legacy behind him and kept his word even starving himself to keep him.
October 27, 2021
This was sad. I agree with the reviewer who said that this was Gift of Magi but for Thanksgiving and darker.
The perils of assuming.
The perils of assuming.
November 15, 2021
An interesting take on how people act irrationally in the name of following and/ performing traditions.
July 14, 2022
Absurd, Great Character Portrayal, I love it !!
February 27, 2023
A great short story by O'Henry with the usual twist ending. A wonderful story.
November 6, 2023
Such a fascinating look at "philanthropic" behaviors ...
November 14, 2023
In some case's it's okay to break tradition.
January 18, 2024
¿La intriga? Top.
December 4, 2024
3.75 ☆ !!
Two completely different stories but same concept of the gift of the Magi...Loved it
Two completely different stories but same concept of the gift of the Magi...Loved it
December 30, 2024
Very confusing. had to read for school.
November 5, 2025
It is a typical O Henry story with a twist at the end.
December 19, 2022
Rubes transplanted from the sticks (Greensboro, NC in O. Henry's case) can't stop gushing about New York City and fantasizing that every humdrum occurrence there is of monumental importance or as a pretentious New Yorker would say of great “Import”.
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