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THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER `
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BY `
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MARK TWAIN `
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(Samuel Langhorne Clemens) `
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P R E F A C E `
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MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or `
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two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were `
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schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but `
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not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of `
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three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of `
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architecture. `
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The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children `
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and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, `
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thirty or forty years ago. `
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Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and `
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girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, `
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for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what `
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they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, `
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and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. `
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THE AUTHOR. `
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HARTFORD, 1876. `
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T O M S A W Y E R `
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CHAPTER I `
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"TOM!" `
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No answer. `
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"TOM!" `
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No answer. `
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"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" `
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No answer. `
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The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the `
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room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or `
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never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her `
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state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not `
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service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. `
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She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but `
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still loud enough for the furniture to hear: `
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"Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" `
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She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching `
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under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the `
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punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. `
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"I never did see the beat of that boy!" `
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She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the `
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tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. `
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So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and `
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shouted: `
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"Y-o-u-u TOM!" `
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There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to `
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seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. `
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"There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in `
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there?" `
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"Nothing." `
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"Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that `
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truck?" `
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"I don't know, aunt." `
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"Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if `
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you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." `
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The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- `
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"My! Look behind you, aunt!" `
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The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The `
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lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and `
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disappeared over it. `
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His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle `
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laugh. `
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"Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks `
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enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old `
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fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, `
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as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, `
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and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how `
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long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he `
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can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down `
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again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, `
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and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile `
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the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for `
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us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my `
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own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash `
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him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, `
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and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man `
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that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the `
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Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * `
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and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him `
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work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work `
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Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more `
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than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, `
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or I'll be the ruination of the child." `
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Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home `
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barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's `
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wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in `
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time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the `
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work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already `
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through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a `
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quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. `
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While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity `
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offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and `
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very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like `
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many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she `
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was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she `
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loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low `
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cunning. Said she: `
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"Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" `
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"Yes'm." `
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"Powerful warm, warn't it?" `
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"Yes'm." `
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"Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" `
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A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. `
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He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: `
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"No'm--well, not very much." `
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The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: `
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"But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect `
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that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing `
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that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew `
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where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: `
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"Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" `
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Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of `
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circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new `
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inspiration: `
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"Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to `
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pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" `
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The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His `
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shirt collar was securely sewed. `
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"Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey `
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and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a `
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singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." `
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She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom `
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had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. `
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But Sidney said: `
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"Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, `
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but it's black." `
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"Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" `
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But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: `
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"Siddy, I'll lick you for that." `
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In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into `
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the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle `
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carried white thread and the other black. He said: `
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"She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes `
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she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to `
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geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But `
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I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" `
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