The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, 135th Anniversary Edition 9780520946323

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TWAIN THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER

THE MARK TWAIN LIBRARY -

The Library offers for the first time popular editions of Mark Twain's best works just as he wanted them to be read. These moderately priced volumes, faithfully reproduced from the California scholarly editions and printed on acid-free paper, are sparingly annotated and include all the original illustrations that Mark Twain commissioned and enjoyed.

"Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him." -ME

ADVENNRES OF TOM SAWYER

MARK TWAIN

THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER 135th Anniversary Edition

Foreword and Notes by John C . Gerber Text established by Paul Baender

FJ University of California Press Berkeley

Los Angeles

London

SCHOLARLY EDITIONS

ANAPPROVED T E X T MODERN LANGUAGE

This Mark Twain Library text of Tom Sawyer is, for the most part, a photographic reproduction of the text published in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; Tom Sawyer Abroad; and Tom Sawyer, Detective, ed. John C. Gerher, Paul Baender, and Terry Firkins (University of California Press, 1980), which was approved by the Center for Editions of American Authors (CEAA). Portions of the text have been reset to correct errors and to accommodate the original illustrations by True W. Williams, and the reset portions have been proofread in accord with the standards of the CEAA. Editorial work on the texts was made possible by generous grants from the United States Office of Education and from the Research Materials Program of the National Endowment for the Humanities. "The Writing of Tom Sawyer" was added in 2010 by Victor Fischer. University of California Press, one of the most distinguished university presses in the United States, enriches lives around the world by advancing scholarship in the humanities, social sciences, and natural sciences. Its activities are supported by the U C Press Foundation and by philanthropic contributions from individuals and institutions. For more information, visit

The text of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, correctly established for the first time from the authoritative documents, is O 1980 by The Regents of the University of California. Editorial foreword, explanatory notes, sources for characters, note o n the text, and other editorial matter are O 1982 and 2010 by The Regents of the University of California. ISBN 978-0-520-2661 1-7

ISBN

(cloth: alk. paper) 978-0-520-26612-4 (pbk.: alk. paper)

The Library of Congress has cataloged an earlier edition of this hook as follows: Lihrary of Congress Cataloging-inPublication Data Twain, Mark, 1835-1910. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. (The Mark Twain Library) 1. Gerber, John C. 11. Title. 111. Series: Twain, Mark, 1835-1910. Mark Twain Library. PS1306.A2G47 1982 813'.4 81-40324 ISBN 978-0-520-23575-4 ( ~ b k:.alk. paper)

The Mark Twain Library is designed by Steve Renick.

University of California Press .Berkeley and Los Angeles. California University of California Press, Ltd. London, England Manufactured in the United States of America

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of ANSI/NISO 239.48-1992 (R 1997) (Permanence of Paper).

CONTENTS ILLUSTRATIONS FOREWORD THE WRITING OF TOM SAWYER

THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER Preface

1. Y-o-u-u Tom-Aunt Polly Decides Upon her DutyTom Practices Music-The Challenge-A Private Entrance 2. Strong Temptations-Strategic Movements-The Innocents Beguiled 3. Tom as a General-Triumph and Reward-Dismal Felicity-Commission and Omission 4. Mental Acrobatics-Attending Sunday-School-The Superintendent-"Showing o f f - T o m Lionized 5. A Useful Minister-In Church-The Climax 6. Self-Examination-Dentistry-The Midnight CharmWitches and Devils-Cautious Approaches-Happy Hours 7. A Treaty Entered Into-Early Lessons-A Mistake Made 8. Tom Decides on his Course-Old Scenes Re-enacted 9. A Solemn Situation-Grave Subjects IntroducedInjun Joe Explains 10. The Solemn Oath-Terror Brings RepentanceMental Punishment 11. Muff Potter Comes Himself-Tom's Conscience at Work 12. Tom Shows his Generosity-Aunt Polly Weakens 13. The Young Pirates-Going to the Rendezvous-The Camp-Fire Talk

xxix

viii

14. 15. 16.

Camp-Life-A Sensation-Tom Steals Away from Camp Tom Reconnoiters-Learns the Situation-Reports at Camp A Day's Amusements-Tom Reveals a Secret-The Pirates take a Lesson-A Night Surprise-An Indian War Memories of the Lost Heroes-The Point in Tom's Secret Tom's Feelings Investigated-Wonderful DreamBecky Thatcher Overshadowed-Tom Becomes Jealous-Black Revenge Tom Tells the Truth Becky in a Dilemma-Tom's Nobility Asserts Itself Youthful Eloquence-Compositions by the Young Ladies-A Lengthy Vision-The Boys' Vengeance Satisfied Tom's Confidence Betrayed-Expects Signal Punishment Old Muff's Friends-Muff Potter in Court-Muff Potter Saved Tom as the Village Hero-Days of Splendor and Nights of Horror-Pursuit of Injun Joe About Kings and Diamonds-Search for the Treasure -Dead People and Ghosts The Haunted House-Sleepy Ghosts-A Box of Gold -Bitter Luck Doubts to be Settled-The Young Detectives An Attempt at No. Two-Huck Mounts Guard The Pic-nic-Huck on Injun Joe's Track-The "Revenge" Job--Aid for the Widow The Welchman Reports-Huck Under Fire-The Story Circulated-A New Sensation-Hope Giving Way to Despair An Exploring Expedition-Trouble Commences-Lost in the Cave-Total Darkness-Found but not Saved

CONTENTS

32. 33.

34. 35.

Tom tells the Story of their Escape-Tom's Enemy in Safe Quarters The Fate of Injun Joe-Huck and Tom Compare Notes-An Expedition to the Cave-Protection Against Ghosts-"An Awful Snug Placen-A Reception at the Widow Douglas's Springing a Secret-Mr. Jones' Surprise a Failure A New Order of Things-Poor Huck-New Adventures Planned Conclusion

EXPLANATORY NOTES SOURCES FOR CHARACTERS NOTE ON THE TEXT

ix

233

238 250 254 260

ILLUSTRATIONS Tom Sawyer, frontispiece Tom at Home Aunt Polly Beguiled A Good Opportunity Who's Afraid? Late Home Jim 'Tendin' to Business "Ain't that work?" Wealth Amusement Becky Thatcher Paying Off After the Battle "Showing Off' Not Amiss Mary Tom Contemplating Dampened Ardor Youth Boyhood Using the "Barlow" The Church Necessities Tom as a Sunday-school Hero The Prize At Church The Model Boy The Church Choir A Side Show Result of Playing in Church The Pinch-Bug Sid Dentistry Huckleberry Finn Mother Hopkins Result of Tom's Truthfulness Tom as an Artist Intempted Courtship The Master Vain Pleading Tailpiece The Grave in the Woods

Tom Meditates Robin Hood and His Foe Death of Robin Hood Midnight Tom's Mode of Egress Tom's Effort at Prayer Muff Potter Outwitted The Graveyard Forewarnings The Oath Disturbing Muffs Sleep Tom's Talk with His Aunt Muff Potter A Suspicious Incident Injun Joe's Two Victims In the Coils Peter Aunt Polly Seeks Information A General Good Time Demoralized Joe Harper On Board Their First Prize The Pirates Ashore Wild Life The Pirates' Bath The Pleasant Stroll The Search for the Drowned Tom's Mysterious Writing River View What Tom Saw Tom Swims the River Taking Lessons The Pirates' Egg Market Tom Looking for Joe's Knife The Thunder Storm Terrible Slaughter The Mourner Tom's. Proudest Moment Amy Lawrence Tom Tries to Remember The Hero A Flirtation Becky Retaliates

xii A Sudden Frost Counter-imitation Aunt Polly Tom Justified The Discovery Caught in the Act Tom Astonishes the School Literature Tom Declaims Examination Evening On Exhibition Prize Authors The Master's Dilemma The School House The Cadet Happy for Two Days Enjoying the Vacation The Stolen Melons The Judge Visiting the Prisoner Tom Swears The Court Room The Detective Tom Dreams Treasure The Private Conference A King, Poor Fellow! Business The Ha'nted House Injun Joe The Greatest and Best Hidden Treasures Unearthed The Boys' Salvation Room No. 2 The Next Day's Conference Treasures Uncle Jake Huck at Home The Haunted Room

"Run, for your life!" McDougal's Cave Inside the Cave Huck on Duty A Rousing Act Huck Sprang Away The Welshman Result of a Sneeze Cornered Alarming Discoveries Tom and Becky Stir Up the Town Tom's Mark Huck Questions the Widow Vampires Wonders of the Cave Attacked by Natives Despair The Wedding Cake A New Terror Daylight The "Turn Out" to Receive Tom and Becky The Escape from the Cave Fate of the Ragged Man The Treasure Found Caught at Last Drop after Drop Having a Good Time A Business Trip "Got it at last!" Tailpiece Widow Douglas Tom Backs His Statement Tailpiece Huck Transformed Comfortable Once More High Up in Society Contentment

201 202 205 206 209 210 211 212 215 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 226 228 23 1 233 234 235 236 238 239 240 24 1 243 246 248 250 252 253 254 256 25 7 259

FOREWORD In The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, published in 1876, Mark Twain imaginatively recalls his boyhood in the 1840s in a small town on the banks of the Mississippi River. The real town was Hannibal, Missouri, but in the story he calls it St. Petersburg to suggest St. Peter's place, or heaven. In many ways it does seem like heaven for boys and girls. The weather is always summery. The wooded hills, the river, and the cave are ideal for games and adventures. Tom and his friends get into and out of one scrape after another, and Tom's desires for fame and fortune and for the love of Becky Thatcher are happily realized. Even Huckleberry Finn, who sleeps on doorsteps and in large barrels, shares in the treasure the boys uncover. But not everything is "heavenly" in St. Petersburg. Tom Sawyer shows the violence of life in the small town as well as its day-to-day activities, the troubles of the children as well as their pleasures. The story also makes fun of the preachy juvenile fiction of the time, written to encourage young people to be clean and polite and to obey their parents. Mark Twain pictures the unreal heroes of such fiction in the person of Willie Mufferson, the "Model Boy" of St. Petersburg, whom the church ladies fuss over and the other boys despise. By contrast, Tom is a rebel. He goes swimming when it is forbidden, associates with Huckleberry Finn though warned not to, breaks the rules in both school and Sunday school, and runs away from home. He steals out at night when he is supposed to be home in bed, and, along with Huck, becomes a witness to a grave robbing and a murder. Yet everything eventually turns out well. Tom gets rewarded for his disobedience. Although Aunt Polly and other adults disapprove of what he does, they are privately grateful to him for bringing excitement into their lives. They cannot in good conscience punish him for showing off or for wanting to be rich because they, too, long for fame and wealth. Unlike most juvenile fiction of the nineteenth century, therefore, Tom Sawyer shows how morally complicated real life can be. Mark Twain did not write Tom Sawyer simply to amuse childrenalthough the book certainly does that. His original intention was to write for adults as well as for younger readers by carrying Tom through to

xiv

FOREWORD

manhood and having him travel in many lands. Many readers believe that something of the original intention remains, in that the book shows how a boy matures. Others hold that the work is really a sardonic comment on growing up because Tom finally becomes more like the adults in St. Petersburg, who at best are pious and sentimental, at worst intolerant and cruel. At the end of the story, when Tom sides with the adults in insisting to Huck that he live with the Widow Douglas and become "respectable," Mark Twain may well be suggesting that in growing up we increase our regard for social custom and social approval and lose much of our love for individual freedom. Tom Sawyer, in short, is a work that appeals to readers of all ages. It is a book one never forgets. John C. Gerber

THE WRITING OF

om Sawyer

When Mark Twain began to write The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in the early 1870s, he had already experimented with using some of the same materials in a story told in the first person by a character named Billy Rogers, a story later given the title "Boy's Manuscript." A manuscript page is reproduced here, as is a surviving page of Mark Twain's earliest attempt to write a play about Tom Sawyer. A portrait of Laura Hawkins, who served as the model for Becky Thatcher in the completed book, and an advertisement for a patent medicine, Perry Davis's PainKiller, follow. An 1876 advertisement for The Adventures of Tom Sawyer used by the canvassers who sold the book door-to-door, and three letters written by Mark Twain after completion of his manuscript but before publication of the book end the gathering. The photograph shows Mark Twain at work during this period.

A stereopticon photograph of Mark Twain in 1874 in his study at Quarry Farm in Elmira, New York, where he wrote The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Mark Twain Papers, The Bancroft Library.

(Opposite) A page from "Boy's Manuscript," written by Mark Twain in October 1868, and found with the first two pages, including the author's own title, missing. Mark Twain Papers, The Bancroft Library. The surviving text is published in full in Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer among the Indians and Other Unfinished Stories, ed. Dahlia Armon and Walter Blair (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1989). This page reads: I don't take any interest in funerals any more. I don't wish to do anything but just go off by myself & think of her. I wish I was dead-that is what I wish I was. Then maybe she would be sorry. MA Friday.-, My mother ehxsnut ,don't, understand it. And I can't tell her. She worries about me, & asks me if I'm sick, & where it hurts me& I have to say that I ain't sick & nothing don't hurt me, but she says she knows better, because it's the measles. So she gave me ipecac, & calomel, & all that sort of stuff & made me aff awful sick. And I had to go to bed, & she gave me a mug of hot sage tea & a mug of hot sheepsaffron tea, & covered

Page 1 of Mark Twain's earliest attempt to write a Tom Sawyer play, in the early 1870s.Aunt Polly was called Aunt Winny. By 1887, more than ten years after The Adventures of Tom Sawyer was published, he decided that it was a book "which cannot be dramatized. One might as well try to dramatize any other hymn. Tom Sawyer is simply a hymn, put into prose form to give it a worldly air." Unsent draft letter to W.R.Ward, 8 September 1887, Mark Twain Papers, The Bancroft Library.

A photograph of Laura Hawkins at the age of nineteen. In 1908, Mark Twain remembered that she was "the very first sweetheart I ever had. It was 68 years ago. She was 5 years old, & I the same. I had an apple, & fell in love with her & gave her the core. I remember it perfectly well, &exactly the place where it happened, &what kind of a day it was. She figures in 'Tom Sawyer' as 'Becky Thatcher."' Letter to Margaret Blackmer, 6-9 October 1908, Beinecke Library, Yale University.

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An advertisement for Perry Davis's Pain-Killer, one of the patent medicines Sam Clemens's mother gave him as a child and the inspiration for the incident in chapter 12 of Tom Sawyer (see pp. 94-96). According to Dr. J.W. Epler, the medicine contained ?4ounce myrrh, 'A ounce guaiacum resin, 5/4 ounce gum camphor, ?4dram each of red pepper oil and anise oil, diluted 50 percent with alcohol (Medical World, 7 November 1889,465).Illustration courtesy of K. Patrick Ober.

3 . HAVE SEE PBODUCTIC 114 nnnollllclng mls rolmne, tllc puollsllels llnve no Ileatntlol1 in cleelnring it to bc one of the most origi11n1, 1111iqIIC, piqonat and entertniniog of all ~ L ~ ITI ~Km l r ' aworks. The genius rcrll~isitct o roldcr the rvrittcl~ndventures of n h q o~~errhclmingly fnscineting to grown I I ~ renders, is possessed but by few, nn11cl~nllengeathe dccpest ndmirntion. That Jir. Cierne~~s I n s this, is evident f~ur n the burst of cntl~llsinsticpraise with which the pablicntior of "Tou S.L\~CER" in Englnnd, has been received. No rvordr'lmve seemed too strong m express tho p l c n s ~ ~ Felt r e nt this ftcs11 oxhibition of the nuthor's powcia, e x c ~ ~ t cilld a direction l c ~ ~cxpectcd. at I n entering the new field hem introdneed, Mr. Clsmene by a o menlls xl)nndoas his old style of writing, as will bc renlizetl nt OIICC In thc pcrusnl of l l ~ cbook. P r o n ~k g i n ning to end, the p n g s of L"Coa~S~~vslm'' are rcplcte with lirely snllies, humoro~isidens, nnd xnthing Itits. Tom, A I I I I ~Polly, 1Incklehcl.r)- Finn, necky Tllatcher, Joc IInrper, Itijuo J o e nod others, nrc active, origitlsl chnrncturs, who mnnnge to keep their: little world lively nnd stirriog, aud inevitably d r n a tho ~.cndcrw i t l d ~ ~ tbc w r t e8s. Tile Illnstrntions nrc s ~ ~ p c r nnd b , Bkeu nll in all tho boolr is nn incon~pavnbleone. The volume will COIntnin 11enr1yBOO pnges, with about 150 Illustrntions, and will be

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Publ ished by AMERlClRN PUBLlSHlNC CO., Hartford, Conn., Chicago, Ill., Cincinnati, Ohio. Persons cntcring their names upon the blank pngcs in this prospectus ivill l o col~side~.mIns subscriber. for tllc rvorlr, bnt no obligation will rest rqmn any one to rcceire t:ic book 111i1cssiL eqnnls in cvcry respect, the descl'iptlc>n given nnd sample slio~vn. .

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The American Publishing Company's 1876 advertisement for The Adventures of Tom Sawyer from a sales prospectus with which subscription agents sold the book door-to-door. The buyer had a choice of four bindings, ranging in price from $2.75 to $4.25. Courtesy of Clifton Waller Barrett Library, University of Virginia.

THREE LETTERS BY MARK T W A I N Mark Twain (Samuel L. Clemens) wrote the three letters that follow, signing them "Mark" and "Clemens," to his friend William Dean Howells, the editor of the Atlantic Monthly. Howells had written Clemens on 3 July 1875 that he hoped to publish The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in installments in the magazine, and that he felt "very much interested in your making that your chief work; you wont have such another chance; don't waste it on a boy" (Mark Twain Papers, The Bancroft Library). In the first of these letters, Clemens refers to Le Sage's eighteenth-century picaresque romance Gil Blas; to Howells's novel A Foregone

Conclusion, which had been serialized in the Atlantic in 1874; to Bret Harte, whose novel Gabriel Conroy was serialized in Scribner's Monthly beginning in November 1875; to Oliver Wendell Holmes, the author of The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table and of a recent pamphlet and poem published by James R. Osgood; to the publisher William E Gill, who had annoyed Clemens and Osgood by appropriating published work in unauthorized ways; to Whitelaw Reid, the editor of the New York Tribune, who had similarly annoyed Osgood; and to his wife, Olivia Clemens, and their daughter Olivia Susan (Susie or Susy). In the second letter, Clemens refers to proofsheets of his "A Literary Nightmare," published in the February 1876 Atlantic Monthly; to the writer and historian Charles Francis Adams, whose article "Of Some Railroad Accidents" appeared in the November and December 1875 Atlantic Monthly; to Mark Twain's friend and fellow author Charles Dudley Warner; to an unidentified work Clemens was having difficulty writing; to the secretarial copy of Tom Sawyer, which Howells was to begin reading and marking; and to the first installment of Howells's story "Private Theatricals," which appeared in the November 1875 Atlantic Monthly. In the third letter, Clemens refers to Truman W. (True) Williams, the illustrator of Tom Sawyer, who had also illustrated two of Clemens's previous books; again to the secretarial copy of Tom Sawyer that Howells had read; to his wife, Olivia Clemens, her mother, Olivia Lewis Langdon, and her aunt Louisa Lewis Marsh; to the Hartford Monday Evening Club, which was to meet on 24 January at Clemens's house, where he planned to read "The Facts Concerning the Recent Carnival of Crime in Connecticut"; and to the sculptor John Quincy Adams Ward, a prospective houseguest of the Howells family. All three letters are in the Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection, New York Public Library, and published in Mark Twain's Letters, Volume 6: 1874-1875 (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2002), 503-6, 594-97, and at Mark Twain Project Online (www.marktwainproject.org). Howells convinced Clemens to change "they comb me all to hell": see p. 256.

To William Dean Howells 5 July 1875 Hartford, Conn. July 5. My Dear Howells: I have finished the story & didn't take the chap beyond boyhood. I believe it would be fatal to do it in any shape but autobiographically-like Gil Blas. I perhaps made a mistake in not writing it in the first person. If I went on, now, & took him into manhood, he would just be like all the one-horse men in literature

& the reader would conceive a hearty contempt for him. It is not a boy's book, at all. It will only be read by adults. It is only written for adults. Moreover, the book is plenty long enough, as it stands. It is about 900 pages of MS., & may be 1000 when I shall have finished "working up" vague places; so it would make from 130 to 150 pages of the Atlantic-about what the Foregone Conclusion made, isn't it? I would dearly like to see it in the Atlantic, but I doubt if it would pay the publishers to buy the privilege, or me to sell it. Bret Harte has sold his novel (same size as mine, I should say) to Scribner's Monthly for $6,500 (publication to begin in September, I think,) & he gets a royalty of 7% per cent from Bliss in book form afterward. He gets a royalty of ten per cent on it in England (issued in serial numbers) & the same royalty on it in book form afterward, & is to receive a n advance payment of five hundred pounds the day the first No. of the serial appears. If 1,could do as well, here & there, with mine, it might possibly pay me, but I seriously doubt it-though it is likely I could do better in England than Bret, who is not widely known there. You see I take a vile, mercenary view of things-but then my household expenses are something almost ghastly. By & by I shall take a boy of twelve & run him on through life (in the first person) but not Tom Sawyer-he would not be a good character for it. I wish you would promise to read the MS of Tom Sawyer some time, & see if you don't really decide that I am right in closing with him as a boy-& point out the most glaring defects for me. It is a tremendous favor to ask, & I expect you to refuse, & would be ashamed to expect you to do otherwise. But the thing has been so many months in my mind that it seems a relief to snake it out. I don't know any other person whose judgment I could venture to take fully & entirely. Don't hesitate about saying no, for I know how your time is taxed, & I would have honest need to blush if you said yes. Osgood & I are "going for" the puppy Gill on infringement of trademark. To win one or two suits of this kind will set literary folks on a firmer bottom. The N.Y. Tribune doesn't own the world-I wish Osgood would sue it for stealing Holmes's poem. Wouldn't it be gorgeous to sue Whitelaw Read for petty larceny? I will promise to go into court & swear I think him capable of stealing pea-nuts from a blind pedlar. Mrs. C. grows stronger. Susie is down with a fever. Kindest regards to you all. Yrs Ever Clemens

To William Dean Howells 23 November 1875 Hartford, Conn. Hartford, Nov. 23/75. My Dear Howells: Herewith is the proof. In spite of myself, how awkwardly I do jumble words together; & how often I do use three words where one would answer-a thing I am always trying to guard against. I shall become as slovenly a writer as Charles Francis Adams if I don't look out. [That is said in jest; because of course I do not seriously fear getting so bad as that. I never shall drop so far toward his & Bret Harte's level as to catch myself saying "It must have been wiser to have believed that he might have accomplished it if he could have felt that he would have been The reference to Bret Harte supported by those who should have &c., &c., &LC.,"] reminds me that I often accuse him of being a deliberate imitator of Dickens; & this in turn reminds me that I have charged unconscious plagiarism upon Charley Warner; & this in turn reminds me that I have been delighting my soul for two weeks over a bran new & ingenious way of beginning a novel-& behold, all at once it flashes upon me that Charley Warner originated the idea 3 years ago & told me about it! Aha! So much for self-righteousness! I am well repaid. Here are 108 pages of MS, new & clean, lying disgraced in the waste paper basket, & I am beginning the novel over again in an unstolen way. I would not wonder if I am the worst literary thief in the world, without knowing it. It is glorious news that you like Tom Sawyer so well. I mean to see to it that your review of it shall have plenty of time to appear before the other notices. Mrs. Clemens decides with you that the book should issue as a book for boys, pure & simple-& so do I. It is surely the correct idea. As to that last chapter, I think of just leaving it off & adding nothing in its place. Something told me that the book was done when I got to that point-& so the strong temptation to put Huck's life at the widow's into detail instead of generalizing it in a paragraph, was resisted. Just send Sawyer to me by Express-I enclose money for it. If it should get lost it will be no great matter. Company interfered last night, & so "Private Theatricals" goes over till this evening, to be read aloud. Mrs. Clemens is mad, but the story will take that all out. This is going to be a splendid winter night for fireside reading, anyway. I am almost at a dead stand-still with my new story, on account of the misery of having to do it all over again. We-all send love to you-all. Yrs Ever Mark.

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To William Dean Howells 18 January 1876 Hartford, Conn. Hartford, Jan 18176 My Dear Howells: Thanks, & ever so many, for the good opinion of Tom Sawyer. Williams has made about 200 rattling pictures for it-some of them very dainty. Poor devil, what a genius he has, & how he does murder it with rum. He takes a book of mine, & without suggestion from anybody builds no end of pictures just from his reading of it. There [never,was a man in the world so grateful to another as I was to you day before yesterday, when I sat down (in still rather wretched health) to set myself to the dreary & hateful task of making final revision of Tom Sawyer, & discovered, upon opening the package of MS that your pencil marks were scattered all along. This was splendid, & swept away all labor. Instead of reading the MS, I simply hunted out the pencil marks & made the emendations which they suggested. I reduced the boy-battle to a curt paragraph; I finally concluded to cut the Sundayschool speech down to the first two sentences, (leaving no suggestion of satire, since the book is to be for boys & girls; I tamed the various obscenities until I judged that [they, no longer carried offense. So, at a single sitting I began & finished a revision which I had supposed would occupy 3 or 4 days & leave me mentally & physically fagged out at the end. I was careful not to inflict the MS upon you until I had thoroughly & painstakingly revised it. Therefore, the only faults left were those that would discover themselves to others, not me-& these you had pointed out. There was one expression which perhaps you overlooked. When Huck is complaining to Tom of the rigorous system in vogue at the widow's, he says the servants harass him with all manner of compulsory decencies, & he winds up by saying, "and they comb me all to hell." (No exclamation point.) Long ago, when I read that to Mrs. Clemens, she made no comment; another time I created occasion to read that chapter to her aunt & her mother (both sensitive & loyal subjects of the kingdom of heaven, so to speak,) & they let it pass. I was glad, for it was the most natural remark in the world for that boy to make (&he had been allowed few privileges of speech in the book); when I saw that you, too, had let it you hadn't observed it. Did go without protest, I was glad, & afraid, to-afraid you? And did you question the propriety of it? Since the book is now professedly & confessedly a boy's & girl's book, that dern word bothers me some, nights, but it never did until I had ceased to regard the volume as being for adults.

Don't bother to answer now, (for you've writing enough to do without allowing me to add to the burden,) but tell me when you see me again. Which we do hope will be next Saturday or Sunday or Monday. Couldn't you come now & mull over the alterations which you are going to make in your MS, & make them after you ,get, back? Wouldn't it assist the work, if you dropped out of harness & routine for a day or two & have that sort of revivification which comes of a holiday-forgetfulness of the workshop? I can always work after I've been to your house; & if you will come to mine, now, 61hear the club toot their various horns over the exasperating metaphysical question which I mean to lay before them in the disguise of a literary extravaganza, it would just brace you up like a cordial. As for Ward, you [can, fix it easily with him for the next week. (I feel sort of mean, trying to persuade a man to put down a critical piece of work at a critical time, but yet I am honest in thinking it would not hurt the work nor impair your interest in it to come, under the circumstances.) Mrs. Clemens says, "Maybe the Howellses could come Monday if they cannot come Saturday; ask them; it is worth trying." Well, how's that? Could you? It would be splendid if you could. Drop me a postal card-I should have a twinge of conscience if I forced you to write a letter, (I am honest about that,)--& if you find you can't make out to come, tell me that you bodies will come the next Saturday if the thing be possible, & stay over Sunday. Yrs Ever Mark.

TWAIN THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER

This book is Affectionately Dedicated.

PREFACE MOSTOF 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. 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. 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.

The Author. Hartford, 1876.

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

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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 1 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 airthe peril was desperate"My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled around, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled, on the instant, scrambled up the high board fence, and disappeared over it. 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, AUNT POLLY BEGUILED 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

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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-layingup 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, to-morrow, 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, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity

A GOOD OPPORTUNITY

offered, aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep-for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. *South-westernfor "afternoon."

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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:

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"Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lappels 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. Consound it! sometimes she sews it with white and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other-1 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 practice it undisturbed. 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 yet 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

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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 gimme 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."

CHAPTER 1

"You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eyeing and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Get 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.

WHO'S AFRAID?

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

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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 a 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 noses, 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 huff!"-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

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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. 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.

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

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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, quarreling, 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 m - n e 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 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

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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 1'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. 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 straightened 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:

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"Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!"The headway ran almost out and he drew up slowly toward the side-walk. "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-chowwow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles,for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labbord! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ch-chowchow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling!Stop the labbord! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-aling-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'sh'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-l'm going in a-swimming, 1 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!" 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 like it!" The brush continued to move.

THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER

"AIN'T THAT WORK!"

"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?" 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: "Say, Tom, let me whitewash a little." Tom considered; was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "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." "No-is that so?Oh come, now-lemme just try. Only just a littleI'd let you, if you was me, Tom."

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"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-" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say-I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here-. No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard-" "I'll give you all of it!" 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, beside the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jewsharp, 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 doorknob, a dog collar-but no dog-the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange peel, and a dilapidated old window sash.

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. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all.

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He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing itnamely, 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 treadmill 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. The boy mused a while over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report.

AMUSEMENT

.-/:.-

/.,:',..-.,

.