CHAPTER IV
THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peacefulvillage like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had familyworship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solidcourses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar oforiginality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter ofthe Mosaic Law, as from Sinai.
Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "gethis verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all hisenergies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of theSermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter.At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson,but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of humanthought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary tookhis book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through thefog:
"Blessed are the--a--a--"
"Poor"--
"Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--"
"In spirit--"
"In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--"
"_Theirs_--"
"For _theirs_. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdomof heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--"
"Sh--"
"For they--a--"
"S, H, A--"
"For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!"
"_Shall_!"
"Oh, _shall_! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a--blessedare they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for theyshall--a--shall _what_? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want tobe so mean for?"
"Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn'tdo that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom,you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice.There, now, that's a good boy."
"All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is."
"Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice."
"You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again."
And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosityand prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished ashining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelveand a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his systemshook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything,but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeurin that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such aweapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposingmystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify thecupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he wascalled off to dress for Sunday-school.
Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he wentoutside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then hedipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves;poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchenand began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. ButMary removed the towel and said:
"Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurtyou."
Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time hestood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breathand began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shutand groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony ofsuds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged fromthe towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stoppedshort at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this linethere was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward infront and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when shewas done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction ofcolor, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curlswrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privatelysmoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered hishair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and hisown filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of hisclothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they weresimply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of hiswardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself;she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirtcollar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him withhis speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved anduncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for therewas a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. Hehoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; shecoated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and broughtthem out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to doeverything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively:
"Please, Tom--that's a good boy."
So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the threechildren set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his wholeheart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it.
Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then churchservice. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily,and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church'shigh-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons;the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine boardtree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a stepand accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade:
"Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?"
"Yes."
"What'll you take for her?"
"What'll you give?"
"Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook."
"Less see 'em."
Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands.Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and somesmall trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid otherboys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors tenor fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarmof clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and starteda quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave,elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled aboy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boyturned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hearhim say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's wholeclass were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they cameto recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, buthad to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and eachgot his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scriptureon it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Tenblue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten redtickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendentgave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easytimes) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry andapplication to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? Andyet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work oftwo years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He oncerecited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon hismental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiotfrom that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on greatoccasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it)had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the olderpupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious worklong enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizeswas a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was sogreat and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar'sheart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a coupleof weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never reallyhungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire beinghad for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it.
/> In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, witha closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between itsleaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendentmakes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is asnecessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singerwho stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert--thoughwhy, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of musicis ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slimcreature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; hewore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his earsand whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--afence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of thewhole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on aspreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and hadfringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashionof the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriouslyproduced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against awall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and verysincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and placesin such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, thatunconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiarintonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after thisfashion:
"Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty asyou can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There--thatis it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see onelittle girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks Iam out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speechto the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good itmakes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in aplace like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and soon. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of apattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all.
The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fightsand other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetingsand whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases ofisolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every soundceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and theconclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude.
A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which wasmore or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompaniedby a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentlemanwith iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter'swife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full ofchafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet AmyLawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw thissmall newcomer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The nextmoment he was "showing off" with all his might--cuffing boys, pullinghair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely tofascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but onealloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and thatrecord in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness thatwere sweeping over it now.
The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr.Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. Themiddle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a onethan the county judge--altogether the most august creation these childrenhad ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was madeof--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might,too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled,and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the countycourt-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which thesereflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and theranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother oftheir own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiarwith the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been musicto his soul to hear the whisperings:
"Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going toshake hands with him--he _is_ shaking hands with him! By jings, don't youwish you was Jeff?"
Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlingsand activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, dischargingdirections here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. Thelibrarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full ofbooks and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authoritydelights in. The young lady teachers "showed off"--bending sweetly overpupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingersat bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlementeachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays ofauthority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, ofboth sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it wasbusiness that frequently had to be done over again two or three times(with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in variousways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the airwas thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above itall the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon allthe house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was"showing off," too.
There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete,and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy.Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough--he had beenaround among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now,to have that German lad back again with a sound mind.
And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward withnine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demandeda Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was notexpecting an application from this source for the next ten years. Butthere was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and theywere good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place withthe Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced fromheadquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, andso profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to thejudicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze uponin place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those thatsuffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that theythemselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets toTom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges.These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, aguileful snake in the grass.
The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as thesuperintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lackedsomewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught himthat there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light,perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused twothousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen wouldstrain his capacity, without a doubt.
Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it inher face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a graintroubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched;a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she wasjealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom mostof all (she thought).
Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breathwould hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awfulgreatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He wouldhave liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. TheJudge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, andasked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out:
"Tom."
"Oh, no, not Tom--it is--"
"Thomas."
"Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well.But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?"
"T
ell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and saysir. You mustn't forget your manners."
"Thomas Sawyer--sir."
"That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Twothousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never canbe sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worthmore than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great menand good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, someday, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to theprecious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing tomy dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the goodsuperintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me abeautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for myown, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you willsay, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousandverses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me andthis lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--forwe are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the namesof all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the firsttwo that were appointed?"
Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed,now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He saidto himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplestquestion--why _did_ the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak upand say:
"Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid."
Tom still hung fire.
"Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first twodisciples were--"
"_David And Goliah!_"
Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene.