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their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the `
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wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy `
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my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, `
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my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my `
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side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of `
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fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her `
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own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a `
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sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other `
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unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A `
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strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of `
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December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me `
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contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages `
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of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to `
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non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered `
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to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in `
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delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said `
`
that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that `
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Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in `
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passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was `
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over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the `
`
usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his `
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chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of `
`
America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a `
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sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over `
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the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged `
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out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the `
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tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, `
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now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes `
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were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering `
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continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret `
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above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came `
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a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her `
`
head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved `
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upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the `
`
intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six `
`
inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she `
`
grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into `
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the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the `
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light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy `
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had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had `
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come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken `
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without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western `
`
Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and `
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hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM `
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joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy `
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character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and `
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profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new `
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thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world `
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to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself `
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tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense `
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that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept `
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him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon `
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gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight `
`
hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was `
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apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so `
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high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's `
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condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that `
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he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. `
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But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was `
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pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a `
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sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the `
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Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man `
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like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style `
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calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however `
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--there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his `
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surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the `
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desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his `
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coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He `
`
attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned `
`
it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a `
`
sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for `
`
two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained `
`
hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world `
`
(as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an `
`
overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even `
`
anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for `
`
three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for `
`
boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a `
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mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than `
`
ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so `
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delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky `
`
Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during `
`
vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of `
`
the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. `
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Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the `
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world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When `
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he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change `
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had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and `
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everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. `
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Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, `
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but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a `
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Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben `
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Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up `
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Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late `
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measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his `
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depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom `
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of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart `
`
broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was `
`
lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with `
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driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He `
`
covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his `
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doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. `
`
He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity `
`
of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste `
`
of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there `
`
seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm `
`
as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the `
`
tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first `
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impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might `
`
not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. `
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The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he `
`
got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering `
`
how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted `
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listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile `
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court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. `
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He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! `
`
they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy `
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atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. `
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It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get `
`
away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for `
`
his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were `
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put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected `
`
of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in `
`
the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took `
`
Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to `
`
unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with `
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another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained `
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discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You `
`
know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so `
`
help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we `
`
wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more `
`
comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could `
`
they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me `
`
they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all `
`
right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, `
`
anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread `
`
solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? `
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Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me `
`
in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way `
`
they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, `
`
sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't `
`
ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get `
`
drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways `
`
most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a `
`
fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of `
`
stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and `
`
knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we `
`
couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch `
`
him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the `
`
dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's `
`
the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever `
`
hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that `
`
if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had `
`
a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they `
`
found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, `
`
perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear `
`
away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or `
`
fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often `
`
done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. `
`
He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their `
`
gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this `
`
time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: `
`
"You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I `
`
don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all `
`
the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and `
`
befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in `
`
trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I `
`
don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the `
`
time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and `
`
it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't `
`
talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But `
`
what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. `
`
Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces `
`
that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none `
`
come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one `
`
another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come `
`
through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've `
`
helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went `
`
home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day `
`
and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost `
`
irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having `
`
the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, `
`
from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back `
`
presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, `
`
but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more `
`
relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk `
`
was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that `
`
there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. `
`
Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a `
`
tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the `
`
village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the `
`
great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. `
`
After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, `
`
Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon `
`
him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less `
`
conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then `
`
the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The `
`
usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. `
`
These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation `
`
that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who `
`
testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of `
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