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    The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Diversion Illustrated Classics)
    The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Diversion Illustrated Classics)
    The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Diversion Illustrated Classics)
    Ebook394 pages4 hours

    The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Diversion Illustrated Classics)

    By Mark Twain

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Introducing Diversion Classics, an illustrated series that showcases great works of literature from the world's most beloved authors.

    Like its sequel, THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN, THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER is a timeless tale and a staple of American literature. Following Tom as he tricks unsuspecting townspeople and discovers dangerous secrets, this seminal story paints a picture of youth and adulthood on the Mississippi. Mark Twain’s sly humor and penchant for adventure shine through in this must-read American classic.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDiversion Books
    Release dateMay 12, 2015
    ISBN9781626817968
    The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Diversion Illustrated Classics)
    Author

    Mark Twain

    Mark Twain, born Samuel Langhorne Clemens, was an American humorist and writer, who is best known for his enduring novels The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, which has been called the Great American Novel. 

    Read more from Mark Twain

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    Reviews for The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Diversion Illustrated Classics)

    3.5/5

    43 ratings138 reviews

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    • 4/5
      A young criminal mastermind-in-training gets into mischief with his disreputable neighborhood friends.
    • 3/5
      This tells the story of a boy, Tom Sawyer, and his best friend, Huck Finn, and some of the adventures they get into. Some of those adventures include ghosts, haunted houses and treasure. I listened to an audio version of this one, narrated by William Dufris. The narrator was very good with amazing expressions, but my mind wandered, anyway. The one mostly couldn't hold my interest. Because of that, I missed a lot, so initially, it almost felt like these were short stories, rather than a novel. A lot of the same characters did return later, and I think storylines were picked up again later, but it was hard to connect everything because I just hadn't focused enough. However, the parts of the book that I did catch, I thought were cute. And, I have to give bonus points for the narrator, so an “o.k.” 3 stars it is.
    • 3/5
      I read this book in my 6th grade. The story was gripping but not my favorite.
    • 4/5
      Even though this book is well over a century old it still holds up! It's funny, witty, and remarkably insightful into the head of a mischievous young boy. The games, and clothes, and manners may have changed; but kids would still be easily able to relate to the games that Tom Sawyer and his friend Huckleberry Finn play. From pirates to adventurers, they know how to have fun with practically nothing but their imagination. And the trouble, lord these two boys know how to get in trouble and worry their families half to death. From running away, getting lost in caves, witnessing a murder and more, Tom Sawyer is the king of trouble. A must read classic!
    • 5/5
      i absolutely loved it!
    • 4/5
      This book stands out as one of the great American novels, with adventure, humor, danger, and warmth. It is filled with characters that have become part of American culture.
    • 4/5
      Miss Hunt's eighth grade English class. Guess what her nickname was?
    • 5/5
      From this novel I have learned that one can be the person who opens the door to someone in need in a time of desperation and changes his or her life for best. This message is portrayed by the characters of Will and Mr. Tom because when in need Mr. Tom provided Willie with a home, food, and most importantly of love and care he had never received from his mother. This novel contain historical episodes. For example Zach dies in an air raids. If one was not careful could die at any moment. Also, women were looked down to and were not expected to get a good eduction. This book is consider a classic in the literature. The way the story is written transport the reader to each scene.
    • 4/5
      I have mixed feelings about this novel as either adult or children's book. The introduction says that though the two books are tied, the difference between Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn is that the first is a children's book and the second is a book about a child. I'm not sure if I read this as a child--I suspect if I did, I read a censored, abridged illustrated version. And there is an issue parents should be aware of, at least if they're considering giving an unexpurgated version to a contemporary child. One is the use of negative Native American stereotypes. "Injun Joe" is said to be a "half-breed" and when a character hears Joe was planning to mutilate a woman, he comments only someone part Indian could think of doing that. The word "nigger" is also used several times in the book, and it's done casually, not in a way that would clue in a young child it's anything but an ordinary word.I've heard this issue in connection with Huckleberry Finn, and in the context of an adult book like that one, written first person from the point of view of a half-literate child from the antebellum South and dealing with race relations, I'd think the use of that language appropriate--just as it is in novels by African Americans such as Alice Walker and Toni Morrison that deal with race relations. It does jar in a children's book though, and Tom Sawyer is a children's book, not really a book I think is going to appeal to adults the way Carroll's Alice books can. Some aspects delighted me, even as an adult. Having recently read such books as Uncle Tom's Cabin with the cloying child character of Little Eva and a reread of Little Women, it was a relief to read a child character like Tom that really is a child. Not some miniature adult or walking saint but a young boy who would trade dead animals or kite string for marbles, or trick friends into doing his chores, who hates school and church. The book isn't laden with over-description or formal, stiff language like many novels of the period. It flows beautifully and is filled with charm and humor. On the other hand, at times Tom is appalling in his unthinking cruelty in ways I found disturbing--such as when he allows his family to think he's dead so he can attend his own funeral. And the ending, while it might well delight a child, seems...childish.
    • 4/5
      Never read this during all my school years so I thought I had to give it a shot. I was surprised. I found the book to be rather enjoyable and unlike many other "classics" that fail to live up to the hype. A great story and definitely a classic.
    • 5/5
      One of my favorite Twains
    • 3/5
      I tried reading this back in grade school and got stuck on the dialect. Either I have gotten better at reading dialect or this one did not have as much. Anyway, the story was actually more fun than I would have thought and was less episodic than many novels from the same time period, but I still would have liked a tighter story.
    • 4/5
      Tom Sawyer dose not like school and work.But he loves adventures!This book is very exciting.I wanted to adventure too.
    • 5/5
      It is perhaps unusual to read this book aimed at boys for the first time at the age of 45, but I really enjoyed it. Tom is an appealingly mischievous boy whose adventures, fears and insecurities are fairly timeless; though written in 1876, the book could be set in the modern era in a small town or rural area with relatively few changes. The other main characters, Aunt Polly, Joe Harper, Becky Thatcher and of course Huck Finn are equally attractively drawn. From the modern perspective the character of Injun Joe is portrayed as a wholly negative and stereotypical "savage", but this is lifted by Tom's compassion towards him at the end. Very enjoyable read for all ages. 5/5
    • 3/5
      I could stand to read this again, give it another shot. I just didn't like Tom or his adventures nearly as much as I did Huck and his.
    • 4/5
      This classic is a brilliant book. Mark Twain writes at his finest. It took me back to the days of getting into mischief, hastening the growth of silver hairs upon my parent's heads. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer is a great book for those seeking an escape from an overly serious world with pretentious aspirations to be noticed. Tom Sawyer and his group of ruffians do a great job of reminding the reader that life isn't always about being a "someone"; its about the adventure. I highly recommend the book. Later into the next year... the sequel, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.
    • 5/5
      Synopsis:Tom Sawyer is a naughty boy from St. Petersburg (fictional), Missouri, who is always engaged in troublesome adventures with his friends, specially with Huckleberry Finn, causing her Aunt Polly to go mad. He lazily attends school and never misses a chance to be envied by his schoolmates for his heroic mischiefs. Despite his misbehavior, he's a good-hearted young man.Personal Opinion:What a read! I was a great fan of the animated series when I was a child (and nowadays, of course) but had never read the book. I was really looking forward to do it, and when the moment came I was trully moved by the story, its characters and everything. That's what I call a masterpiece!The book is structured in chapters that can be seen as almost independent stories. Every chapter deals with different adventures based on situations lived by some of the author's schoolmates. Actually, Mark Twain based the boys on this novel on some of them, sometimes merging two or three boys into one.Tom, as a character, brings you back to the days when all of us were dreaming all day long about doing fantastic things; those times when petty troubles seemed to turn your life into something miserable. That's a feeling commonly reflected during the novel, and it's as genuine as a three dollar bill.In addition, the dialogs are boyish (as it must be) and doesn't fail to present the reader with the social reality of those days (back in the 19th Century). Slavery is not a main point in this novel, but it's easy to grasp its social consideration.Being a classic as it is, there's not a lot to say about Tom Sawyer that hasn't yet been said. I'd like to quote the author, though, who on the preface points that: "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 what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in." Mission more than accomplished Mr. Twain. Henceforth:
    • 5/5
      A great classic tale filled with childhood memories and the innocence of naivety. Not that long of a read, it's a great tale for numerous mini-adventures to take on throughout the course of the novel. And what could make any child happier than actually finding that long sought-after buried treasure.
    • 3/5
      This story drawn about adventure of a young boy whoes name is Tom Sawyer.He lives with his aunt, Polly.Polly is very strict to Tom Sawyer.He always look for interesting thing.One day,Tom and his friend go to adventure and then, they saw horryble thing...I know this book.Tom is very brave boy.If I saw horryble thing, I escape soon.He is smart and strong.I want to be like him.I also like adventure,so I want to go adventure with hm.
    • 4/5
      Mark Twain's style doesn't disappoint. He writes in such a way that I forget he's even there, between the reader and the story. The dialogue, I think, is the best part; Twain does it so well it's like hearing the characters themselves speak straight out from the pages. Unfortunately, I read this at age 24 and so, by that point, knew the story so well through other venues (Wishbone, tv specials, movies, etc.) that nothing could at all surprise me. But still, I enjoyed it--especially the religious waywardness of its central characters. Just don't know what to make of the talk of, and attitude towards, blacks. Is Twain unconsciously or satirically reflecting the mindset of those times?
    • 5/5
      This book is very interesting. Tom is a main character in this book which is a noughty boy. In this book, there are many fanny things. Tom is a smart boy, and from him i can move on to my childhood. In this book, you also can learn many principles about how to become a real man. You can kown which is the truth and which is not. I never feel bored of this book. Because it is not only interesting but also you can improve your vocablary. I introduce this book for u and wish u read it and like it.
    • 4/5
      This would be good to use when talking about the mid 1880s and life on the Mississippi. I think students will like this book because of how Tom reacts to situations.
    • 5/5
      This novel is full of high adventure of the kind that has disappeared for most children today. Tom and friends are full of imaginative play that they carry out in the wooded areas around their town. They play hooky and trade in junk and have all kinds of superstitious explanations for the world around them. While this book doesn't have any profound themes, it pictures of way of life, mostly gone, in such vivid detail that it seems to come to life again.
    • 4/5
      A great adventure...
    • 5/5
      I read this for the first time when I was 7 or 8 years old and it has been one of my favorites ever since. I loved the character of Tom Sawyer and the story. The story appealed to me because it's a combination of adventure, imagination and youthfulness. A classic!
    • 4/5
      I enjoyed this through free downloads on ITunes U on my drives back from the Museum. I'd heard of it before and maybe even saw a cartoon of bits before but I wasn't familiar with the text. Twain's used of the sophisticated narration is in contrast to the wonderful dialogue of the kids. Fascinating and disturbing to hear about how much freedom the kids had back then. It reminded me a little of what my Dad said of his boyhood. It pokes fun at religion and some social habits, though others seem galling to a modern ear.
    • 5/5
      I plan to make a practice this year of re-reading books, not just books I enjoyed in my childhood and adolescent, but books from my own library that I keep because" I might want to read them 'someday'". I read Tom Sawyer more than once, more than twice, I don't actually remember how many times. At some point I began to understand that much of what Twain writes from Tom's point of view was ironic and therefore funny. I finally got the joke. This time I appreciated Twain's craftsmanship with plot, as well as character. Obviously, this book is a classic. I will probably read it again some year.
    • 4/5
      The first of trio of masterpieces Twain wrote on his memories of childhood near the Mississippi River roughly thirty years later. A classic and I especially enjoyed the large number of illustrations throughout this edition. Quotes:On capital punishment:"The funeral stopped the further growth of one thing - the petition to the Governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a company of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works."On the transience of life; I really enjoyed this one:"The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick - a dessert spoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come?"
    • 3/5
      Great Starter

      Just getting back to reading in earnest, figured I'd start with some classics. Still twinge at the "n" word, but it's a cultural sign of those times. Imagination and exploration. Kids used to have it. Kids used to could explore.
    • 4/5
      This is a classic tale about Tom Sawyer and his adventures with his friend Huckleberry Finn. After he dirties his clothes in a fight and is made to whitewash the fence as punishment, he tricks his friends to do it for him. Tom and Huck go to the graveyard at night and witness a murder of Dr. Robinson. Tom, Huck and Joe Harper run away to an island where they have a lot of fun. Tom sneaks back home one night and finds out that the whole town think they're dead. He comes to his funeral and they see him. Tom testifies against Muff Potter and Injun Joe but Injun joe runs away. In the summer Tom and Huck go hunting for buried treasure, Tom becomes an anonymous hero when he gets help for the Widow Douglas. Tom and Becky get lost in a cave and they see Injun Joe but he doesn't see them. When the two find their way our Judge Thatcher has the cave sealed and accidentally traps Injun Joe inside. Tom and Huck find the gold and Tom tricks Huck to go back to the Widow Douglas.

    Book preview

    The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Diversion Illustrated Classics) - Mark Twain

    @public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@74@74-h@images@01-017

    Tom at home.

    Chapter I

    TOM!

    No answer.

    TOM!

    No answer.

    What’s gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!

    No answer.

    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:

    Well, I lay if I get hold of you I’ll—

    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.

    I never did see the beat of that boy!

    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:

    Y-o-u-u TOM!

    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.

    There! I might ’a’ thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?

    Nothing.

    "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What is that truck?"

    I don’t know, aunt.

    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.

    The switch hovered in the air—the peril was desperate—

    My! Look behind you, aunt!

    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.

    @public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@74@74-h@images@01-018

    Aunt Polly beguiled.

    His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh.

    "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 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."

    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.

    @public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@74@74-h@images@01-019

    A good opportunity.

    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:

    Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn’t it?

    Yes’m.

    Powerful warm, warn’t it?

    Yes’m.

    Didn’t you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?

    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:

    No’m—well, not very much.

    The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom’s shirt, and said:

    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:

    Some of us pumped on our heads—mine’s damp yet. See?

    Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration:

    Tom, you didn’t have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!

    The trouble vanished out of Tom’s face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed.

    "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."

    She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once.

    But Sidney said:

    Well, now, if I didn’t think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it’s black.

    Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!

    But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said:

    Siddy, I’ll lick you for that.

    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:

    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!

    He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though—and loathed him.

    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.

    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 impressive 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 astounding. 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:

    I can lick you!

    I’d like to see you try it.

    Well, I can do it.

    No you can’t, either.

    Yes I can.

    No you can’t.

    I can.

    You can’t.

    Can!

    Can’t!

    An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said:

    What’s your name?

    ’Tisn’t any of your business, maybe.

    "Well I ’low I’ll make it my business."

    Well why don’t you?

    If you say much, I will.

    "Much—much—much. There now."

    "Oh, you think you’re mighty smart, don’t you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to."

    "Well why don’t you do it? You say you can do it."

    "Well I will, if you fool with me."

    Oh yes—I’ve seen whole families in the same fix.

    "Smarty! You think you’re some, now, don’t you? Oh, what a hat!"

    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.

    You’re a liar!

    You’re another.

    You’re a fighting liar and dasn’t take it up.

    Aw—take a walk!

    Say—if you give me much more of your sass I’ll take and bounce a rock off’n your head.

    "Oh, of course you will."

    "Well I will."

    "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."

    "I ain’t afraid."

    You are.

    I ain’t.

    You are.

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    Who’s afraid?

    Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said:

    Get away from here!

    Go away yourself!

    I won’t.

    I won’t either.

    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:

    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.

    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.]

    That’s a lie.

    "Your saying so don’t make it so."

    Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said:

    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.

    The new boy stepped over promptly, and said:

    Now you said you’d do it, now let’s see you do it.

    Don’t you crowd me now; you better look out.

    "Well, you said you’d do it—why don’t you do it?"

    "By jingo! for two cents I will do it."

    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.

    The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying—mainly from rage.

    Holler ’nuff!—and the pounding went on.

    At last the stranger got out a smothered ’Nuff! and Tom let him up and said:

    Now that’ll learn you. Better look out who you’re fooling with next time.

    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.

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    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.

    * Southwestern for afternoon

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    Jim

    Chapter II

    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.

    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:

    Say, Jim, I’ll fetch the water if you’ll whitewash some.

    Jim shook his head and said:

    "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’."

    "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."

    Oh, I dasn’t, Mars Tom. Ole missis she’d take an’ tar de head off’n me. ’Deed she would.

    "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!"

    Jim began to waver.

    White alley, Jim! And it’s a bully taw.

    My! Dat’s a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I’s powerful ’fraid ole missis—

    And besides, if you will I’ll show you my sore toe.

    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.

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    Tendin’ to business.

    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.

    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:

    Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk.

    Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling! His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides.

    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.

    Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ch-chow-chow! The left hand began to describe circles.

    "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).

    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!"

    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:

    Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?

    Tom wheeled suddenly and said:

    Why, it’s you, Ben! I warn’t noticing.

    "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!"

    Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said:

    What do you call work?

    "Why, ain’t that work?"

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    Ain’t that work?

    Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly:

    Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain’t. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer.

    "Oh come, now, you don’t mean to let on that you

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