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diff --git a/7193-h/7193-h.htm b/7193-h/7193-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4c6b89 --- /dev/null +++ b/7193-h/7193-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1632 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER, By Twain, Part 1.</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {background:#faebd7; margin:10%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; text-align: center; } + blockquote {font-size: 97% } + .figleft {float: left;} + .figright {float: right;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + // --> +</style> + + + +</head> +<body> + +<h2>ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER, By Twain, Part 1.</h2> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Part 1. +by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Part 1. + +Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +Release Date: June 29, 2004 [EBook #7193] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SAWYER, PART 1. *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<br><br><br><br> + + + + +<center> +<img alt="bookcover.jpg (156K)" src="images/bookcover.jpg" height="1038" width="832"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="spine.jpg (33K)" src="images/spine.jpg" height="1028" width="204"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<center> +<h1>THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER </h1> +<br><br> +<h2>BY MARK TWAIN</h2> +<h3>(Samuel Langhorne Clemens)</h3> +</center> +<br><br> + +<h2>Part 1.</h2> +<br> +<a name="frontispiece"></a> +<br> +<center> +<img alt="frontispiece.jpg (259K)" src="images/frontispiece.jpg" height="1027" width="750"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="titlepage.jpg (72K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" height="1030" width="843"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="dedication.jpg (10K)" src="images/dedication.jpg" height="245" width="473"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CONTENTS</h2></center> + + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + +<p><a href="#c1">CHAPTER I.</a><br> +Y-o-u-u Tom-Aunt Polly Decides Upon her Duty<br>—Tom Practices Music—The +Challenge—A Private Entrance</p> +<p><a href="#c2">CHAPTER II.</a><br> +Strong Temptations—Strategic Movements<br>—The Innocents Beguiled</p> +<p> +<a href="#c3">CHAPTER III.</a><br> +Tom as a General—Triumph and Reward<br>—Dismal Felicity—Commission and +Omission</p> + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + +<a href="#frontispiece">Tom Sawyer</a><br> +<a href="#01-017">Tom at Home</a><br> +<a href="#01-018">Aunt Polly Beguiled</a><br> +<a href="#01-019">A Good Opportunity</a><br> +<a href="#01-023">Who's Afraid</a><br> +<a href="#01-025">Late Home</a><br> +<a href="#02-026">Jim</a><br> +<a href="#02-028">'Tendin' to Business </a><br> +<a href="#02-030">Ain't that Work?</a><br> +<a href="#02-032">Amusement</a><br> +<a href="#03-033">Becky Thatcher</a><br> +<a href="#03-034">Paying Off</a><br> +<a href="#03-035">After the Battle</a><br> +<a href="#03-036">"Showing Off"</a><br> +<a href="#03-038">Not Amiss</a><br> +<a href="#03-039a">Mary</a><br> +<a href="#03-039b">Tom Contemplating</a><br> +<a href="#03-040">Dampened Ardor</a><br> +<a href="#03-041">Youth</a><br> + + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + + + + +<br><br><br><br> + + + + + + + + +<center><h2>PREFACE</h2></center> +<br> +<p>Most of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; +one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who +were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom +Sawyer also, but not from an individual—he is a combination +of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore +belongs to the composite order of architecture.</p> + +<p>The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among +children and slaves in the West at the period of this +story—that is to say, thirty or forty years ago.</p> + +<p>Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of +boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on +that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly +remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they +felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they +sometimes engaged in.</p> + +<p>THE AUTHOR.</p> + +<p>HARTFORD, 1876.</p> +<br><br><br><br> + + + + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="c1"></a> +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +</center> + +<br><br> +<a name="01-017"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="01-017.jpg (182K)" src="images/01-017.jpg" height="959" width="791"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<p>"TOM!"</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>"TOM!"</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!"</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them +about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. +She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a +boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were +built for "style," not service—she could have seen through +a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a +moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for +the furniture to hear:</p> + +<p>"Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll—"</p> + +<p>She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and +punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath +to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the +cat.</p> + +<p>"I never did see the beat of that boy!"</p> + +<p>She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among +the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. +No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for +distance and shouted:</p> + +<p>"Y-o-u-u TOM!"</p> + +<p>There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in +time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and +arrest his flight.</p> + +<p>"There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been +doing in there?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS +that truck?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, aunt."</p> + +<p>"Well, I know. It's jam—that's what it is. Forty times +I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me +that switch."</p> + +<p>The switch hovered in the air—the peril was +desperate—</p> + +<p>"My! Look behind you, aunt!"</p> + +<p>The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of +danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high +board-fence, and disappeared over it.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="01-018"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="01-018.jpg (54K)" src="images/01-018.jpg" height="627" width="293"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a +gentle laugh.</p> + +<p>"Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played +me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by +this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't +learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, +he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know +what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me +before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put +me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I +can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and +that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile +the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and +suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but +laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't +got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, +my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old +heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of +few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon +it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern +for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, +tomorrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work +Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work +more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my +duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child."</p> + +<p>Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back +home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw +next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper—at +least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while +Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or +rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the +work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no +adventurous, trouble-some ways.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="01-019"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="01-019.jpg (48K)" src="images/01-019.jpg" height="309" width="430"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as +opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were +full of guile, and very deep—for she wanted to trap him +into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, +it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent +for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate +her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said +she:</p> + +<p>"Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm."</p> + +<p>"Powerful warm, warn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?"</p> + +<p>A bit of a scare shot through Tom—a touch of +uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it +told him nothing. So he said:</p> + +<p>"No'm—well, not very much."</p> + +<p>The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and +said:</p> + +<p>"But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to +reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without +anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in +spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled +what might be the next move:</p> + +<p>"Some of us pumped on our heads—mine's damp yet. +See?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of +circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new +inspiration:</p> + +<p>"Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed +it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!"</p> + +<p>The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. +His shirt collar was securely sewed.</p> + +<p>"Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played +hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon +you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is—better'n +you look. THIS time."</p> + +<p>She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad +that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once.</p> + +<p>But Sidney said:</p> + +<p>"Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white +thread, but it's black."</p> + +<p>"Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!"</p> + +<p>But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door +he said:</p> + +<p>"Siddy, I'll lick you for that."</p> + +<p>In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were +thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about +them—one needle carried white thread and the other black. +He said:</p> + +<p>"She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! +sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with +black. I wish to gee-miny she'd stick to one or t'other—I +can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. +I'll learn him!"</p> + +<p>He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy +very well though—and loathed him.</p> + +<p>Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his +troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and +bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and +powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind +for the time—just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the +excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued +novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, +and he was suffering to practise it un-disturbed. It consisted in +a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by +touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals +in the midst of the music—the reader probably remembers how +to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon +gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his +mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt +much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new +planet—no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure +is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the +astronomer.</p> + +<p>The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently +Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him—a boy a +shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex +was an im-pressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of +St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too—well dressed +on a week-day. This was simply as- tounding. His cap was a dainty +thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and +natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on—and it +was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. +He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The +more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up +his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own +outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, +the other moved—but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept +face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said:</p> + +<p>"I can lick you!"</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see you try it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can do it."</p> + +<p>"No you can't, either."</p> + +<p>"Yes I can."</p> + +<p>"No you can't."</p> + +<p>"I can."</p> + +<p>"You can't."</p> + +<p>"Can!"</p> + +<p>"Can't!"</p> + +<p>An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said:</p> + +<p>"What's your name?"</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't any of your business, maybe."</p> + +<p>"Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business."</p> + +<p>"Well why don't you?"</p> + +<p>"If you say much, I will."</p> + +<p>"Much—much—MUCH. There now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick +you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to."</p> + +<p>"Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it."</p> + +<p>"Well I WILL, if you fool with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes—I've seen whole families in the same fix."</p> + +<p>"Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a +hat!"</p> + +<p>"You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to +knock it off—and anybody that'll take a dare will suck +eggs."</p> + +<p>"You're a liar!"</p> + +<p>"You're another."</p> + +<p>"You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up."</p> + +<p>"Aw—take a walk!"</p> + +<p>"Say—if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and +bounce a rock off'n your head."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of COURSE you will."</p> + +<p>"Well I WILL."</p> + +<p>"Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you +will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid."</p> + +<p>"I AIN'T afraid."</p> + +<p>"You are."</p> + +<p>"I ain't."</p> + +<p>"You are."</p> + +<br><br> + +<a name="01-023"></a><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="01-023.jpg (55K)" src="images/01-023.jpg" height="537" width="358"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<p>Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. +Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said:</p> + +<p>"Get away from here!"</p> + +<p>"Go away yourself!"</p> + +<p>"I won't."</p> + +<p>"I won't either."</p> + +<p>So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, +and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other +with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling +till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with +watchful caution, and Tom said:</p> + +<p>"You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, +and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him +do it, too."</p> + +<p>"What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother +that's bigger than he is—and what's more, he can throw him +over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.]</p> + +<p>"That's a lie."</p> + +<p>"YOUR saying so don't make it so."</p> + +<p>Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said:</p> + +<p>"I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you +can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal +sheep."</p> + +<p>The new boy stepped over promptly, and said:</p> + +<p>"Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it."</p> + +<p>"Don't you crowd me now; you better look out."</p> + +<p>"Well, you SAID you'd do it—why don't you do it?"</p> + +<p>"By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it."</p> + +<p>The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held +them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an +instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped +together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and +tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each +other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. +Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle +Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with +his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he.</p> + +<p>The boy only struggled to free himself. He was +crying—mainly from rage.</p> + +<p>"Holler 'nuff!"—and the pounding went on.</p> + +<p>At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let +him up and said:</p> + +<p>"Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling +with next time."</p> + +<p>The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, +sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his +head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he +caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started +off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new +boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the +shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom +chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He +then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy +to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through +the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and +called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So +he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy.</p> +<br><br> +<a name="01-025"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="01-025.jpg (55K)" src="images/01-025.jpg" height="521" width="394"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<p>He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed +cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the +person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were +in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at +hard labor became adamantine in its firmness.</p> + +<p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="c2"></a></p> + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +</center> +<br><br> +<a name="02-026"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="02-026.jpg (202K)" src="images/02-026.jpg" height="971" width="790"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + + + +<p>SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright +and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every +heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. +There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The +locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms +filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, +was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem +a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting.</p> + +<p>Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a +long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left +him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty +yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, +and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and +passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it +again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the +far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a +tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a +tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town +pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now +it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at +the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always +there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, +quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that +although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim +never got back with a bucket of water under an hour—and +even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said:</p> + +<p>"Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some."</p> + +<p>Jim shook his head and said:</p> + +<p>"Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git +dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she +spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go +'long an' 'tend to my own business—she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend +to de whitewashin'."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she +always talks. Gimme the bucket—I won't be gone only a a +minute. SHE won't ever know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head +off'n me. 'Deed she would."</p> + +<p>"SHE! She never licks anybody—whacks 'em over the head +with her thimble—and who cares for that, I'd like to know. +She talks awful, but talk don't hurt—anyways it don't if +she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white +alley!"</p> + +<p>Jim began to waver.</p> + +<p>"White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw."</p> + +<p>"My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's +powerful 'fraid ole missis—"</p> + +<p>"And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe."</p> + +<p>Jim was only human—this attraction was too much for him. +He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe +with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In +another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a +tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly +was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and +triumph in her eye.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="02-028"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="02-028.jpg (101K)" src="images/02-028.jpg" height="515" width="692"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he +had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the +free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious +expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having +to work—the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got +out his worldly wealth and examined it—bits of toys, +marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but +not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. +So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up +the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless +moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, +magnificent inspiration.</p> + +<p>He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers +hove in sight presently—the very boy, of all boys, whose +ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the +hop-skip-and-jump—proof enough that his heart was light and +his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a +long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned +ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a +steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle +of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to +ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance—for he +was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be +drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and +engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on +his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them:</p> + +<p>"Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, +and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk.</p> + +<p>"Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and +stiffened down his sides.</p> + +<p>"Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! +ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, mean-time, describing stately +circles—for it was representing a forty-foot wheel.</p> + +<p>"Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! +Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles.</p> + +<p>"Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come +ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over +slow! Ting-a-ling- ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! +LIVELY now! Come—out with your spring-line—what're +you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of +it! Stand by that stage, now—let her go! Done with the +engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the +gauge-cocks).</p> + +<p>Tom went on whitewashing—paid no attention to the +steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a +stump, ain't you!"</p> + +<p>No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an +artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed +the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's +mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben +said:</p> + +<p>"Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?"</p> + +<p>Tom wheeled suddenly and said:</p> + +<p>"Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing."</p> + +<p>"Say—I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you +could? But of course you'd druther WORK—wouldn't you? +Course you would!"</p> + +<p>Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said:</p> + +<p>"What do you call work?"</p> + +<p>"Why, ain't THAT work?"</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="02-030"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="02-030.jpg (170K)" src="images/02-030.jpg" height="1024" width="787"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<p>Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly:</p> + +<p>"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it +suits Tom Sawyer."</p> + +<p>"Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?"</p> + +<p>The brush continued to move.</p> + +<p>"Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a +boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?"</p> + +<p>That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his +apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth—stepped +back to note the effect—added a touch here and +there—criticised the effect again—Ben watching every +move and getting more and more interested, more and more +absorbed. Presently he said:</p> + +<p>"Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little."</p> + +<p>Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his +mind:</p> + +<p>"No—no—I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You +see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence—right +here on the street, you know—but if it was the back fence +I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular +about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon +there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can +do it the way it's got to be done."</p> + +<p>"No—is that so? Oh come, now—lemme just try. Only +just a little—I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom."</p> + +<p>"Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly—well, +Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do +it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If +you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to +it—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. +Say—I'll give you the core of my apple."</p> + +<p>"Well, here—No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard—"</p> + +<p>"I'll give you ALL of it!"</p> + +<p>Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but +alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri +worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel +in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and +planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of +material; boys happened along every little while; they came to +jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, +Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in +good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for +a dead rat and a string to swing it with—and so on, and so +on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, +from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was +literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before +mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue +bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't +unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a +decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, +a kitten with only one eye, a brass door-knob, a +dog-collar—but no dog—the handle of a knife, four pieces +of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="02031"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="02-031.jpg (24K)" src="images/02-031.jpg" height="176" width="510"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while—plenty +of company—and the fence had three coats of whitewash on +it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted +every boy in the village.</p> + +<p>Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after +all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without +knowing it—namely, that in order to make a man or a boy +covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult +to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the +writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work +consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play +consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would +help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or +performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or +climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy +gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches +twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because +the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were +offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and +then they would resign.</p> + +<p>The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had +taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward +headquarters to report.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="02-032"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="02-032.jpg (48K)" src="images/02-032.jpg" height="501" width="332"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + + +<p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="c3"></a></p> + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +</center> + +<br><br> +<a name="03-033"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="03-033.jpg (197K)" src="images/03-033.jpg" height="941" width="783"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + + + +<p>TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an +open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, +breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy +summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the +drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was +nodding over her knitting—for she had no company but the +cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up +on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom +had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place +himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't +I go and play now, aunt?"</p> + +<p>"What, a'ready? How much have you done?"</p> + +<p>"It's all done, aunt."</p> + +<p>"Tom, don't lie to me—I can't bear it."</p> + +<p>"I ain't, aunt; it IS all done."</p> + +<p>Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out +to see for herself; and she would have been content to find +twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the +entire fence white-washed, and not only whitewashed but +elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the +ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said:</p> + +<p>"Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when +you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by +adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to +say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in +a week, or I'll tan you."</p> + +<p>She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that +she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and +delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the +added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came +without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a +happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut.</p> + +<p>Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside +stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods +were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They +raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could +collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or +seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence +and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too +crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now +that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black +thread and getting him into trouble.</p> +<br><br> +<a name="03-034"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="03-034.jpg (41K)" src="images/03-034.jpg" height="404" width="420"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<p>Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that +led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely +beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward +the public square of the village, where two "military" companies +of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. +Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom +friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not +condescend to fight in person—that being better suited to +the still smaller fry—but sat together on an eminence and +conducted the field operations by orders delivered through +aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and +hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners +exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and +the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the +armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward +alone.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="03-035"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="03-035.jpg (106K)" src="images/03-035.jpg" height="505" width="669"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he +saw a new girl in the garden—a lovely little blue-eyed +creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white +summer frock and embroidered pan-talettes. The fresh-crowned hero +fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out +of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had +thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion +as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent +partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed +hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy +in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of +time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose +visit is done.</p> + +<p>He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw +that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know +she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd +boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this +grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was +in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced +aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the +house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and +hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on +the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh +as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right +away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she +disappeared.</p> +<br><br> +<a name="03-036"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="03-036.jpg (43K)" src="images/03-036.jpg" height="485" width="325"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<p>The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the +flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look +down street as if he had discovered something of interest going +on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began +trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; +and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged +nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested +upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with +the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a +minute—only while he could button the flower inside his +jacket, next his heart—or next his stomach, possibly, for +he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, +anyway.</p> + +<p>He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, +"showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself +again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that +she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his +attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor +head full of visions.</p> + +<p>All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt +wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding +about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He +tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his +knuckles rapped for it. He said:</p> + +<p>"Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it."</p> + +<p>"Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be +always into that sugar if I warn't watching you."</p> + +<p>Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his +immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl—a sort of glorying +over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers +slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In +such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. +He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his +aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who +did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be +nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." +He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold +himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck +discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said +to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was +sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike +again when Tom cried out:</p> + +<p>"Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?—Sid broke +it!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. +But when she got her tongue again, she only said:</p> + +<p>"Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been +into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like +enough."</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="03-038"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="03-038.jpg (60K)" src="images/03-038.jpg" height="419" width="413"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say +something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be +construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and +discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her +affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted +his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to +him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He +would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew +that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a +film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured +himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him +beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face +to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she +feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, +dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she +would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like +rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she +would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there +cold and white and make no sign—a poor little sufferer, +whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with +the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he +was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which +overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end +of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his +sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or +any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such +contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all +alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit +of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and +darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at +the other.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="03-039a"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="03-039a.jpg (57K)" src="images/03-039a.jpg" height="473" width="368"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought +desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft +in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge +and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the +while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and +unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine +devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, +rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal +felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would +she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his +neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the +hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable +suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and +set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. +At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="03-039b"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="03-039b.jpg (36K)" src="images/03-039b.jpg" height="448" width="327"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted +street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no +sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull +glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred +presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way +through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up +at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground +under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands +clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And +thus he would die—out in the cold world, with no shelter +over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps +from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the +great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out +upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear +upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to +see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut +down?</p> + +<p>The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned +the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's +remains!</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="03-040"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="03-040.jpg (89K)" src="images/03-040.jpg" height="905" width="335"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There +was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of +a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, +vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom.</p> + +<p>Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying +his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; +but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to +allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there +was danger in Tom's eye.</p> + +<p>Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid +made mental note of the omission.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="03-041"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="03-041.jpg (34K)" src="images/03-041.jpg" height="257" width="774"> +</center> +<br><br> + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Part 1. +by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SAWYER, PART 1. *** + +***** This file should be named 7193-h.htm or 7193-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/1/9/7193/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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