don'twork, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good tome, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up justat the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all tothunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear themblamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any airgit through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't setdown, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on acellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church andsweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly inthere, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats bya bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything'sso awful reg'lar a body can't stand it."
"Well, everybody does that way, Huck."
"Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can'tSTAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don'ttake no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; Igot to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to doeverything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd gotto go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste inmy mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; shewouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, norscratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation andinjury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such awoman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school'sgoing to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT,Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It'sjust worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was deadall the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, andI ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got intoall this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just takemy sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--notmany times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollablehard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder."
"Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides ifyou'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it."
"Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it longenough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussedsmothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, andI'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and acave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got tocome up and spile it all!"
Tom saw his opportunity--
"Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turningrobber."
"No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?"
"Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let youinto the gang if you ain't respectable, you know."
Huck's joy was quenched.
"Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?"
"Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what apirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high upin the nobility--dukes and such."
"Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet meout, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?"
"Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would peoplesay? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters init!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't."
Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finallyhe said:
"Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see ifI can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom."
"All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask thewidow to let up on you a little, Huck."
"Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some ofthe roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowdthrough or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?"
"Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiationto-night, maybe."
"Have the which?"
"Have the initiation."
"What's that?"
"It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang'ssecrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody andall his family that hurts one of the gang."
"That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you."
"Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done atmidnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'ntedhouse is the best, but they're all ripped up now."
"Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom."
"Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it withblood."
"Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier thanpirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to bea reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckonshe'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet."
CONCLUSION
SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, itmust stop here; the story could not go much further without becomingthe history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, heknows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when hewrites of juveniles, he must stop where he best can.
Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and areprosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up thestory of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women theyturned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of thatpart of their lives at present.
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