PREFACE
Mostoftheadventuresrecordedinthisbookreallyoccurred;
oneortwowereexperiencesofmyown,therestthoseofboyswhowereschoolmatesofmine.
HuckFinnisdrawnfromlife;
TomSawyeralso,butnotfromanindividual—heisacombinationofthecharacteristicsofthreeboyswhomIknew,and
quindi
thereforebelongstothecompositeorderofarchitecture.Theoddsuperstitionstoucheduponwereallprevalent
tra
amongchildrenandslavesintheWestattheperiodo
periodofthisstory—thatistosay,thirtyorfortyyearsago.Sebbene
Althoughmybookisintendedmainlyfortheentertainmentofboysandgirls,Ihopeitwillnotbeshunnedbymenandwomenonthataccount,forpartofmyplanhasbeentotrytopleasantlyricordare
remindadultsofwhattheyoncewerethemselves,andofhowtheyfeltandthoughtandtalked,andwhatqueerenterprisestheysometimesengagedin.THEAUTHOR.
CHAPTERI
“Tom!”
Noanswer.
“TOM!”
Noanswer.
“What’sgonewiththatboy,Iwonder?
YouTOM!”
Noanswer.
Theoldladypulledherspectaclesdownandlookedoverthemabouttheroom;
thensheputthemupandlookedoutunderthem.
Sheseldomorneverlookedthroughthemforsosmallathingasaboy;
theywereherstatepair,theprideofherheart,andwerebuiltfor“style,”notservice—shecouldhaveseenthroughapairofstove-lidsjustaswell.
Shelookedperplexedforamoment,andthensaid,notfiercely,butstill
forte
loudenoughforthefurnituretohear:.“Well,IlayifIgetholdofyouI’ll—”.
Shedidnotfinish,forbythistimeshewasbendingdownand
pugni
punchingunderthebedwiththebroom,andsosheneededfiato
breathtopunctuatethepuncheswith.Sheresurrectednothingbutthecat.
“Ineverdidseethebeatofthatboy!”
Shewenttotheopendoorandstoodinitandlookedout
tra
amongthetomatovinesand“jimpson”weedsthatconstitutedthegiardino
garden.NoTom.
Soshelifteduphervoiceatananglecalculatedfordistanceand
urlato
shouted:.“Y-o-u-uTOM!”
Therewasaslight
rumore
noisebehindherandsheturnedjustintimetoseizeasmallboybytheslackofhisroundaboutandarresthisflight.“There!
Imight’a’thoughtofthatcloset.
Whatyoubeendoinginthere?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing!
Lookatyourhands.
Andlookatyourmouth.
Whatisthattruck?”
“Idon’tknow,aunt.”
“Well,Iknow.
It’sjam—that’swhatitis.
FortytimesI’vesaidifyoudidn’tletthatjamaloneI’dskinyou.
Handmethatswitch.”
Theswitchhoveredintheair—theperilwas
disperato
desperate—.“My!
Lookbehindyou,aunt!”
Theoldladywhirledround,andsnatchedherskirtsoutof
pericolo
danger.Theladfledontheinstant,scrambledupthehighboard-fence,and
scomparve
disappearedoverit.HisauntPollystoodsurprisedamoment,andthenbrokeintoagentlelaugh.
“Hangtheboy,can’tIneverlearnanything?
Ain’theplayedmetricksenoughlikethatformetobelookingoutforhimbythistime?
Butoldfoolsisthebiggestfoolsthereis.
Can’tlearnanolddognewtricks,asthesayingis.
Butmygoodness,heneverplaysthemalike,twodays,andhowisabodytoknowwhat’scoming?
He’pearstoknowjusthowlonghecantormentmebeforeIgetmydanderup,andheknowsifhecanmakeouttoputmeoffforaminuteormakemelaugh,it’salldownagainandIcan’thithimalick.
Iain’tdoingmydutybythatboy,andthat’stheLord’struth,goodnessknows.
Risparmiate
Sparetherodandspilethechild,astheGoodBooksays.I’malayingup
peccato
sinandsufferingforusboth,Iknow.He’sfulloftheOldScratch,butlaws-a-me!
he’smyowndeadsister’sboy,poorthing,andIain’tgotthehearttolashhim,
in qualche modo
somehow.EverytimeIlethimoff,myconsciencedoeshurtmeso,andeverytimeIhithimmyoldheartmostbreaks.
Well-a-well,manthatisbornofwomanisoffewdaysandfulloftrouble,astheScripturesays,andIreckonit’sso.
He’llplayhookeythisevening,[*]andI’lljustbeobleegedtomakehimwork,tomorrow,topunishhim.
It’smightyhardtomakehimworkSaturdays,whenalltheboysishaving
vacanza
holiday,buthehatesworkmorethanhehatesanythingelse,andI’vegottodosomeofmydutybyhim,orI’llbetheruinationofthechild.”[*]Southwesternfor“afternoon”.
Tomdidplayhookey,andhehadaverygoodtime.
HegotbackhomebarelyinseasontohelpJim,thesmallcoloredboy,sawnext-day’s
legno
woodandsplitthekindlingsbeforesupper—atleasthewasthereintimetotellhisadventurestoJimwhileJimdidthree-fourthsofthework.Tom’s
minore
youngerbrother(orratherhalf-brother)Sidwasalreadythroughwithhispartofthework(pickingupchips),forhewasaquietboy,andhadnoadventurous,trouble-someways.WhileTomwaseatinghissupper,andstealing
zucchero
sugarasopportunityoffered,AuntPollyaskedhimquestionsthatwerefullofguile,andverydeep—forshewantedtotraphimintodamagingrevealments.Likemanyothersimple-heartedsouls,itwasherpetvanitytobelieveshewasendowedwitha
talento
talentfordarkandmysteriousdiplomacy,andshelovedtocontemplatehermosttransparentdevicesasmarvelsoflowcunning.Saidshe:.
“Tom,itwasmiddlingwarminschool,warn’tit?”
“Yes’m.”
“Powerfulwarm,warn’tit?”
“Yes’m.”
“Didn’tyouwanttogoina-swimming,Tom?”
Abitofa
spavento
scareshotthroughTom—atouchofuncomfortablesuspicion.HesearchedAuntPolly’sface,butittoldhimnothing.
Sohesaid:.
“No’m—well,notverymuch.”
TheoldladyreachedoutherhandandfeltTom’sshirt,andsaid:.
“Butyouain’ttoowarmnow,though.”
Anditflatteredhertoreflectthatshehaddiscoveredthattheshirtwasdrywithoutanybodyknowingthatthatwaswhatshehadinhermind.
Butinspiteofher,Tomknewwherethewindlay,now.
Soheforestalledwhatmightbethenextmove:.
“Someofuspumpedonourheads—mine’sdampyet.
See?”
AuntPollywasvexedtothinkshehadoverlookedthatbitofcircumstantialevidence,andmisseda
trucco
trick.Thenshehadanewinspiration:.
“Tom,youdidn’thavetoundoyourshirtcollarwhereIsewedit,topumponyourhead,didyou?
Unbuttonyourjacket!”
ThetroublevanishedoutofTom’sface.
Heopenedhis
giacca
jacket.Hisshirtcollarwassecurelysewed.
“Bother!
Well,go’longwithyou.
I’dmadesureyou’dplayedhookeyandbeena-swimming.
ButIforgiveye,Tom.
Ireckonyou’reakindofasingedcat,asthesayingis—better’nyoulook.
Thistime.”
Shewashalfsorryhersagacityhadmiscarried,andhalfgladthatTomhadstumbledintoobedientconductforonce.
ButSidneysaid:.
“Well,now,ifIdidn’tthinkyousewedhiscollarwithwhitethread,butit’sblack.”
“Why,Ididsewitwithwhite!
Tom!”
ButTomdidnotwaitfortherest.
Ashewentoutatthedoorhesaid:.
“Siddy,I’lllickyouforthat.”
InasafeplaceTomexaminedtwolargeneedleswhichwerethrustintothelapelsofhis
giacca
jacket,andhadthreadboundaboutthem—oneneedlecarriedwhitethreadandtheotherblack.Hesaid:.
“She’dnevernoticedifithadn’tbeenforSid.
Confoundit!
sometimesshesewsitwithwhite,andsometimesshesewsitwithblack.
Iwishtogee-minyshe’dsticktooneort’other—Ican’tkeeptherunof’em.
ButIbetyouI’lllamSidforthat.
I’lllearnhim!”
Hewasnotthe
Modello
ModelBoyofthevillage.Heknewthe
modello
modelboyverywellthough—andloathedhim.Withintwominutes,orevenless,hehadforgottenallhistroubles.
Notbecausehistroubleswereonewhitlessheavyandbittertohimthanaman’saretoaman,butbecauseanewand
potente
powerfulinterestborethemdownanddrovethemoutofhismindforthetime—justasmen’smisfortunesareforgottenintheexcitementofnewenterprises.Thisnewinterestwasavaluednoveltyinwhistling,whichhehadjustacquiredfromanegro,andhewas
soffrendo
sufferingtopractiseitundisturbed.Itconsistedinapeculiarbird-liketurn,asortofliquidwarble,producedbytouchingthe
lingua
tonguetotheroofofthemouthatshortintervalsinthemidstofthemusic—thereaderprobablyremembershowtodoit,ifhehaseverbeenaboy.Diligenceandattentionsoongavehimtheknackofit,andhestrodedownthestreetwithhismouthfullofharmonyandhissoulfullofgratitude.
Hefeltmuchasanastronomerfeelswhohasdiscoveredanewplanet—nodoubt,asfarasstrong,deep,unalloyedpleasureisconcerned,theadvantagewaswiththeboy,nottheastronomer.
Thesummereveningswerelong.
Itwasnotdark,yet.
PresentlyTomcheckedhiswhistle.
A
sconosciuto
strangerwasbeforehim—aboyashadelargerthanhimself.Anew-comerofanyageoreithersexwasan
impressionante
impressivecuriosityinthepoorlittleshabbyvillageofSt.Petersburg.Thisboywaswelldressed,too—welldressedonaweek-day.
Thiswassimplyastounding.
Hiscapwasadaintything,hisclose-buttonedblueclothroundaboutwasnewandnatty,andsowerehispantaloons.
Hehadshoeson—anditwasonly
Venerdì
Friday.Heevenworeanecktie,a
luminoso
brightbitofribbon.HehadacitifiedairabouthimthatateintoTom’svitals.
ThemoreTomstaredatthesplendidmarvel,thehigherheturneduphisnoseathisfineryandtheshabbierandshabbierhisownoutfitseemedtohimtogrow.
Neitherboyspoke.
Ifonemoved,theothermoved—butonlysidewise,ina
cerchio
circle;theykeptfacetofaceandeyetoeyeallthetime.
FinallyTomsaid:.
“Icanlickyou!”
“I’dliketoseeyoutryit.”
“Well,Icandoit.”
“Noyoucan’t,either.”
“YesIcan.”
“Noyoucan’t.”
“Ican.”
“Youcan’t.”
“Can!”
“Can’t!”
Anuncomfortablepause.
ThenTomsaid:.
“What’syourname?”
“’Tisn’tanyofyourbusiness,maybe.”
“WellI’lowI’llmakeitmybusiness.”
“Wellwhydon’tyou?”
“Ifyousaymuch,Iwill.”
“Much—much—much.
Therenow.”
“Oh,youthinkyou’remightysmart,don’tyou?
Icouldlickyouwithonehandtiedbehindme,ifIwantedto.”
“Wellwhydon’tyoudoit?
Yousayyoucandoit.”
“WellIwill,ifyoufoolwithme.”
“Ohyes—I’veseenwholefamiliesinthesamefix.”
“Smarty!
Youthinkyou’resome,now,don’tyou?
Oh,whatahat!”
“Youcanlumpthat
cappello
hatifyoudon’tlikeit.Idareyoutoknockitoff—andanybodythat’lltakeadarewill
succhiare
suckeggs.”“You’realiar!”
“You’reanother.”
“You’reafighting
bugiardo
liaranddasn’ttakeitup.”“Aw—takeawalk!”
“Say—ifyougivememuchmoreofyoursassI’lltakeandbouncearockoff’nyourhead.”
“Oh,ofcourseyouwill.”
“WellIwill.”
“Wellwhydon’tyoudoitthen?
Whatdoyoukeepsayingyouwillfor?
Whydon’tyoudoit?
It’sbecauseyou’reafraid.”
“Iain’tafraid.”
“Youare.”
“Iain’t.”
“Youare.”
Anotherpause,andmoreeyingandsidlingaroundeachother.
Presentlytheywere
spalla
shouldertoshoulder.Tomsaid:.
“Getawayfromhere!”
“Goawayyourself!”
“Iwon’t.”
“Iwon’teither.”
Sotheystood,eachwithafootplacedatanangleasabrace,andbothshovingwithmightand
principale
main,andgloweringateachotherwithhate.Butneithercouldgetanadvantage.
After
lottato
strugglingtillbothwerehotandflushed,eachrelaxedhisstrainwithwatchfulcaution,andTomsaid:.“You’rea
codardo
cowardandapup.I’lltellmybigbrotheronyou,andhecanthrashyouwithhislittlefinger,andI’llmakehimdoit,too.”
“WhatdoIcareforyourbigbrother?
I’vegotabrotherthat’sbiggerthanheis—andwhat’smore,hecanthrowhimoverthatfence,too.
“That’salie.”