The Adventures of Tom Sawyer : Chapter 21-23

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Episode Transcript

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Chapter twenty one, Eloquence and theMaster's gilded dome vacation was approaching. The
schoolmaster all was severe, grew severerand more exacting than ever, for he
wanted the school to make a goodshowing on examination day. His rod and
his ferule were seldom idle now,at least among the smaller pupils. Only

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the biggest boys and young ladies ofeighteen and twenty escaped lashing. Mister Dobbins
lashings were very vigorous ones, too, for although he carried under his wig
a perfectly bald and shiny head,he had only reached middle age, and
there was no sign of feebleness inhis muscle. As the great day approached,
all the tyranny that was in himcame to the surface. He seemed

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to take a vindictive pleasure in punishingthe least shortcomings. The consequence was that
the smaller boys spent their days interror and suffering, and their nights in
plotting revenge. They threw away noopportunity to do the Master a mischief,
but he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success
was so sweeping and majestic that theboys all was retired from the field and

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badly worsted. At last, theyconspired together and hit upon a plan that
promised a dazzling victory. They sworein the sign painter's boy told him the
scheme and asked his help. Hehad his own reason for being delighted,
for the master boarded in his father'sfamily and had given the boy ample cause
to hate him. The master's wifewould go on a visit to the country

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in a few days, and therewould be nothing to interfere with the plan.
The master always prepared himself for greatoccasions by getting pretty well fuddled,
and the sign painter's boy said thatwhen the dominie had reached the proper condition
on examination evening, he would managethe thing while he napped in his chair.
Then he would have him awakened atthe right time and hurried away to

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school in the fullness of time.The interesting occasion arrived at eight in the
evening. The school house was brilliantlylighted and adorned with wreaths and festoons of
foliage and flowers. The master satthroned in his great chair upon a raised
platform with his blackboard behind him.He was looking tolerably mellow, three rows

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of benches on each side, andsix rows in front of him were occupied
by the dignitaries of the town andby the parents of the pupils. To
his left, back of the rowsof citizens was a spacious temporary platform upon
which were seated the scholars who wereto take part in the exercises of the
evening. Rows of small boys,washed and dressed to an intolerable state of

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discomfort, rows of gawky big boys, snow banks of girls and young ladies
clad in lawn and muslem and conspicuouslyconscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers,
ancient trinkets, their bits of pinkand blue ribbon, and the flowers
in their hair. All the restof the house was filled with non participating

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scholars. The exercises began, avery little boy stood up and sheepishly recited,
you'd scarce expect one of my ageto speak in public on the stage,
et cetera, accompanying himself with thepainfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a
machine might have used, supposing themachine to be a trifle out of order.

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But he got through safely, thoughcruelly scared, and got a fine
round of applause. When he madehis manufactured bow and retired, A little
shame faced girl lisped, Mary hada little lamb et cetera, performed a
compassion inspired Curtsey got her meed ofapplause, and sat down, flushed and
happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward withconceited confidence, and soared into the unquenchable

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and indestructible give me liberty or giveme death speech with fine fury and frantic
gesticulation, and broke down in themiddle of it. A ghastly stage fright
seized him. His legs quaked underhim, and he was like to choke.
He had the manifest sympathy of thehouse, but he had the house's
silence, too, which was evenworse than its sympathy. The master frowned,

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and this completed the disaster. Tomstruggled awhile and then retired utterly defeated.
There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. The
boys stood on the burning deck,followed also the Assyrian came down, and
other declamatory gems. Then there werereading exercises and a spelling fight. The

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meager Latin class recited with honor theprime feature of the evening was in order,
now original compositions by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward
to the edge of the platform,cleared her throat, held up her manuscript
tied with dainty ribbon, and proceededto read with labored attention to expression and
punctuation. The themes were the samethat had been illuminated upon similar occasions by

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their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubt less all their ancestors in
the female line clear back to theCrusades. Friendship was one memories of other
days. Religion in history dream Land, the advantages of culture, forms of
political government compared and contrasted melancholy,filial love, heart longings, etc.

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Etc. A prevalent feature in thesecompositions was a nursed and petted melancholy.
Another was a wasteful and opulent gushof fine language. Another was a tendency
to lug in by the ears,particularly prized words and phrases, until they
were worn entirely out. And apeculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was

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the inveterate and intolerable sermon that waggedits crippled tail at the end of each
and every one of them, Nomatter what the subject might be, a
brain racking effort was made to squirmit into some aspect or other that the
moral and religious mind could contemplate withedification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons
was not sufficient to compass the banishmentof the fashion from the schools, And

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it is not sufficient today it neverwill be sufficient while the world stands.
Perhaps there is no school in allour land where the young ladies do not
feel obliged to close their compositions witha sermon. And you will find that
the sermon of the most frivolous andthe least religious girl in a school is
always the longest and the most relentlesslypious. But enough of this homely truth

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is unpalatable. Let us return tothe examination. The first composition that was
read was one entitled is this thenLife? Perhaps the reader can endure and
extract from it in the common walksof life with what delightful emotions? Does
the youthful mind look forward to someanticipated scene of festivity? Imagination is busy

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sketching rose tinted pictures of joy.In fancy, the voluptuous rotary of fashion
sees herself amid the festive throng,the observed of all observers. Her graceful
form, arrayed in snowy robes,is whirling through the mazes of the joyous
dance. Her eye is brightest,her step is lightest in the gay assembly.
In such delicious fancies, time quicklyglides by, and the welcome hour

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arrives for her entrance into the elysianworld of which she has had such bright
dreams. How fairy like does everythingappear to her enchanted vision. Each new
scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that
beneath this goodly exterior all is vanity. The flattery which once charmed her soul
now grates harshly upon her ear.The ballroom has lost its charms, and

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with wasted health and embittered heart,she turns away with a conviction that earthly
pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of thesoul. And so forth and so on.
There was a buzz of gratification fromtime to time during the reading,
accompanied by whispered ejaculations of how sweet, how eloquent, so true, etc.

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And after the thing had closed witha peculiarly afflicting sermon. The applause
was enthusiastic. Then arose a slight, melancholy girl whose face had the interesting
paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a poem two stanzas of
it will do a Missouri Maiden's farewellto Alabama, Alabama, goodbye. I

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love thee well, But yet fora while do I leave thee now?
Sad? Yes, sad thoughts ofthee. My heart to swell, and
burning recollections throng my brow. ForI have wandered through thy flowery woods,
have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream, have listened to Talase's warring floods,
and wooed on Cusa's side Aurora's beam. Yet shame I not to bear an

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orful heart were blushed to turn behindmy tearful eyes. Tis from no stranger
land I now must part, Tisto no stranger's left. I yield these
sighs welcome and home were mine withinthis state, whose veils I leave,
whose spires fade fast from me,and cold must be mine eyes and heart
and tete. When dear Alabama theyturned cold on thee. There were very

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few there who knew what Tete meant, but the poem was very satisfactory.
Nevertheless, next appeared a dark complexioned, black eyed, black haired young lady,
who paused an impressive moment, assumeda tragic expression, and began to
read in a measured, solemn toneof vision. Dark and tempestuous was night

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around the throne on high. Nota single star quivered, but the deep
intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibratedupon the ear, whilst the terrific lightning
reveled in angry through the cloudy chambersof heaven, seeming to scorn the power
exerted over its terror by the illustriousFranklin. Even the boisterous winds unanimously came

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forth from their mystic homes and blusteredabout, as if to enhance by their
aid the wildness of the scene atsuch a time, so dark, so
dreary for human sympathy my very spirit'sside. But instead thereof my dearest friend,
my counselor, my comforter and guide, my joy in grief, my
second bliss in joy, came tomy side. She moved like one of

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those bright beings pictured in the sunnywalks of fancies. Eden by the romantic
and young, a queen of beauty, unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness.
So soft was her step it failedto make even a sound, And
but for the magical thrill imparted byher genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties,
she would have glided away, unperceived, unsought. A strange sadness rested

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upon her features, like icy tearsupon the robe of December, as she
pointed to the contending elements without andbade me contemplate the two beings presented.
This nightmare occupied some ten pages ofmanuscript, and wound up with a sermon
so destructive of all hope to nonPresbyterians that it took the first prize.

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This composition was considered to be thevery finest effort of the evening. The
mayor of the village, in deliveringthe prize to the author of it,
made a warm speech in which hesaid that it was by far the most
eloquent thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well
be proud of it. It maybe remarked in passing that the number of

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compositions in which the word beauteous wasoverfondled, and human experience referred to as
life's pages was up to the usualaverage. Now the Master, mellow,
almost to the verge of geniality,put his chair aside, turned his back
to the audience, and began todraw a map of America on the blackboard

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to exercise the geography class upon.But he made a sad business of it
with his unsteady hand, and asmothered titter rippled over the house. He
knew what the matter was and sethimself to write it. He sponged out
lines and remade them, but heonly distorted them more than ever, and
the tittering was more pronounced. Hethrew his entire attention upon his work now,

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as if determined not to be putdown by the mirth. He felt
that all eyes were fastened upon him. He imagined he was succeeding, And
yet the tittering continued, it evenmanifestly increased. And well it might.
There was a garret above, piercedwith a scuttle over his head, and
down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string.

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She had a rag tied about herhead, and jaws to keep her
from mewing. As she slowly descended, She curved upward and clawed at the
string. She swung downward and clawedat the intangible air. The tittering rose
higher and higher. The cat waswithin six inches of the absorbed teacher's head.
Down down a little lower, andshe grabbed his wig with her desperate

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claws, clung to it, andwas snatched up into the garret in an
instant, with her trophy still inher possession. And how the light did
blaze abroad from the master's bald patefor the sign painter's boy had gilded it
that broke up the meeting. Theboys were avenged, vacation had come.
Note the pretended compositions quoted in thischapter are taken without alteration, from a

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volume entitled Prose and Poetry by aWestern Lady. But they are exactly and
precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, andhence are much happier than any mere imitations
could be. End of Chapter twentyone. Chapter twenty two, Huck Finn

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quote scriptures. Tom joined the neworder of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted
by the showy character of their regalia. He promised to abstain from smoking,
chewing, and profanity as long ashe remained a member. Now he found
out a new thing, namely,that to promise not to do a thing
is the surest way in the worldto make a body want to go and

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do that very thing. Tom soonfound himself tormented with a desire to drink
and swear. The desire grew tobe so intense that nothing but the hope
of a chance to display himself inhis red sash kept him from withdrawing from
the order. Fourth or July wascoming. But he soon gave that up,
gave it up before he had wornhis shackles over forty eight hours,

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and fixed his hopes upon old JudgeFraser, Justice of the Piece, who
was apparently on his deathbed and wouldhave a big public funeral since he was
so high an official. During threedays, Tom was deeply concerned about the
judge's condition and hungry for news ofit. Sometimes his hopes ran high,
so high that he would venture toget out his regalia and practice before the

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looking glass, but the judge hada most discouraging way of fluctuating. At
last, he was pronounced upon themend, and then convalescent. Tom was
disgusted and felt a sense of injurytoo. He handed in his resignation at
once, and that night the judgesuffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved

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that he would never trust a manlike that again. The funeral was a
fine thing. The cadets paraded ina style calculated to kill the late member
with envy. Tom was a freeboy again. However, there was something
in that he could drink and swearnow, but found to his surprise that
he did not want to. Thesimple fact that he could took the desire

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away and the charm of it.Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted
vacation was beginning to hang a littleheavily on his hands. He attempted a
diary, but nothing happened during threedays, and so he abandoned it.
The first of all the Negro minstrelshows came to town and made a sensation.
Tom and Joe Harper got up aband of performers and were happy for

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two days. Even the glorious fourthwas in some sense of failure, for
it rained hard. There was noprocession in consequence, and the greatest man
in the world as Tom supposed misterBenton, an actual United States Senator,
proved an overwhelming disappointment, for hewas not twenty five feet high, nor
even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came, the boys played

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circus for three days. Afterward,intents made of rag carpeting, admission three
pins for boys, two for girls, and then circusing was abandoned. A
phrenologist and a mesmerizer came and wentagain, and left the village duller and
drearier than ever. There were someboys and girls parties, but they were
so few and so delightful that theyonly made the aching voids between ache the

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harder. Becky Thatcher was gone toher Constantinople home to stay with her parents
during vacation. So there was nobright side to life anywhere. The dreadful
secret of the murder was a chronicmisery. It was a very cancer for
permanency and pain. Then came themeasles. During two long weeks, Tom
lay a prisoner, dead to theworld and its happenings. He was very

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ill. He was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at
last and moved feebly downtown, amelancholy change had come over everything and every
creature. There had been a revival, and everybody had got religion, not
only the adults, but even theboys and girls. Tom went about,
hoping against hope for the sight ofone blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed

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him everywhere. He found Joe Harperstudying a testament, and turned sadly away
from the depressing spectacle. He soughtBen Rogers and found him visiting the poor
with a basket of tracts. Hehunted up Jim Hollis, who called his
tension to the precious blessing of hislate measles as a warning. Every boy
he encountered added another ton to hisdepression, and when in desperation he flew

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for refuge at last to the bosomof Huckleberry Finn, and was received with
a scriptural quotation. His heart brokeand he crept home and to bed,
realizing that he alone of all thetown was lost forever and forever. And
that night there came on a terrificstorm, with driving rain, awful claps
of thunder, and blinding sheets oflightning. He covered his head with his

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bedclothes and waited in a horror ofsuspense for his doom, for he had
not the shadow of a doubt thatall this hubbub was about him. He
believed he had taxed the forbearance ofthe powers above to the extremity of endurance,
and that this was the result.It might have seemed to him a
waste of pomp and ammunition to killa bug with a battery of artillery,

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but there seemed nothing incongruous about thegetting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this
to knock the turf from under aninsect self by and by. The tempest
spent itself and died without accomplishing itsobject. The boy's first impulse was to
be grateful and reform. His secondwas to wait, for there might not

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be any more storms. The nextday the doctors were back. Tom had
relapsed. The three weeks he spenton his back this time seemed an entire
age. When he got abroad atlast, he was hardly grateful that he
had been spared, remembering how lonelywas his estate, how companionless and forlorn
he was. He drifted listlessly downthe street and found Jim Hollis, acting

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as judge in a juvenile court thatwas drying a cat for murder in the
presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn
up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads, they, like Tom,
had suffered a relapse. End ofchapter twenty two, Chapter twenty three,

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the Salvation of Muff Potter. Atlast the sleep the atmosphere was stirred
and vigorously. The murder trial cameon in the court. It became the
absorbing topic of village talk. ImmediatelyTom could not get away from it.
Every reference to the murder sent ashudder to his heart. For his troubled
conscience and fears almost persuaded him thatthese remarks were put forth in his hearing

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as feelers. He did not seehow he could be suspected of knowing anything
about the murder, but still hecould not be comfortable in the midst of
this gossip. It kept him ina cold shiver all the time. He
took Huck to a lonely place tohave a talk with him. It would
be some relief to unseal his tonguefor a little while, to divide his
burden of distress with another sufferer.Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that

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Hac had remained discreet. Hak haveyou ever told anybody about that? But
what you know? What? Oh? Of course I haven't, never a
word, never a solitary word.So help me. What makes you ask?
Well? I was afeared? WhyTom Sawyer? We wouldn't be alive

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two days if that got found out? You know that Tom felt more comfortable
after a pause, Huck. Theycouldn't anybody get you to tell? Could
they get me to tell? Why? If I wanted that half breed devil
to drown me? They could getme to tell? They ain't no different
way. Well that's all right then, I reckon. We're safe as long

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as we keep mum. But let'sswear again anyway, it's more sure.
I'm agreed. So they swore againwith dread solemnities. What is the talk
around, Huck? I've heard apower of it talk. Well, it's
just muff potter, muff potter,muff potter all the time. It keeps
me in a sweat. Constant saysI want to hide somewheres. That's just

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the same way they go on roundme. I reckon, he's a gonner.
Don't you feel sorry for him sometimes, most always, most always,
he ain't no account, But thenhe ain't ever done anything to hurt anybody.
Just fishes a little to get money, to get drunk on and loase
around considerable. But Lord, weall do that these ways, most of
us preachers and such like. Buthe's kind of good. He'd give me

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half a fish once when there warn'tenough for two, and lots of times
he's kind of stood by me whenI was out of luck. Well,
he's mended kites for me, huck, and knitted hooks onto my line.
I wish we could get him outof there. My We couldn't get him
out, tom And besides, ton't do any good. They'd catch him

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again, Yes, so they would. But I hate to hear him abuse
him so like the Dickens, whenhe never done that. I do too,
Tom, Lord, I hear himsay he's the bloodiest looking villain in
this country, and they wonder hewasn't ever hung before. Yes, they
talk like that all the time.I've heard him say that if he was
to get free, they'd lynch him, and they'd do it too. The

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boys had a long talk, butit brought them little comfort, as the
light drew on, they found themselveshanging about the neighborhood of a little isolated
jail, perhaps with an undefined hopethat something would happen that might clear away
their difficulties. But nothing happened.There seemed to be no angels or fairies
interested in this luckless captive. Theboys did as they had often done before,

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went to the cell grating and gavePotter some tobacco and matches. He
was on the ground floor and therewere no guards. His gratitude for their
gifts had always smoked their conscience before, it cut deeper than ever. This
time. They felt cowardly and treacherousto the last degree. When Potter said,
you've been mighty good to me.Boys better'n anybody else in this town.

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And I don't forget it. Idon't often, I says to myself,
says I. I used to mendall the boys kites and things,
and show em where the good fishingplaces was, and befriend em what I
could. And now they've all forgotold Muff when he's in trouble. But
Tom don't and Huck don't. Theydon't forget him, says I. And
I don't forget them. Well,boys, I had done an awful thing

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drunk and crazy at the time.That's the only way I count for it.
And now I got to swing forit. And it's right, right
and best too, I reckon,I hope. So anyway, well,
we won't talk about that. Idon't want to make you feel bad.
You've befriended me. But what Iwant to say is, don't you ever
get drunk. Then you won't everget here. Stand a little further west.

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So that's it. It's a primecomfort to see faces that's friendly when
a body's in such a muck oftrouble and there don't none come here,
but you're good friendly faces. Goodfriendly faces. Get up on one other's
backs and let me touch him.That's it. Shake hands. Urnal comes
through the bars, but mine's toobig, little hands and weak. And

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they've helped muff Potter a power,and they'd help him more if they could.
Tom went home miserable, and hisdreams that night were full of horrors.
The next day and the day after, he hung about the courtroom,
drawn by an impossibly irresistible impulse togo in, but forcing himself to stay
out. Huck was having the sameexperience They studiously avoided each other, each

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wandered away from time to time,but the same dismal fascination always brought them
back. Presently. Tom kept hisears open when Idler sauntered out of the
courtroom, but invariably heard distressing news. The toils were closing more and more
relentlessly around poor Potter. At theend of the second day, the village
talk was to the effect that injunJoe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and

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that there was not the slightest questionas to what the jury's verdict would be.
Tom was out late that night andcame to bed through the window.
He was in a tremendous state ofexcitement. It was hours before he got
to sleep. All the village flockedto the court house the next morning,
for this was to be the greatday. Both sexes were about equally represented

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in the packed audience. After along wait, the jury filed in their
places. Shortly afterward, Potter,pale and haggard, timid and hopeless,
was brought in with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes
could stare at him. No lessconspicuous was injun Joe, stolid as ever.
There was another pause, and thenthe judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed

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the opening of the court. Theusual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together
the papers followed. These details,and accompanying delays, worked up an atmosphere
of preparation that was as impressive asit was fascinating. Now a witness was
called, who testified that he foundMuff Potter washing in the brook at an
early hour the morning that the murderwas discovered, and that he immediately sneaked

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away. After some further questioning,counsel for the prosecution said, take the
witness. The prisoner raised his eyesfor a moment, but dropped them again
when his own counsel said, Ihave no questions to ask him. The
next witness proved the finding of theknife near the corpse. Counsel for the
prosecution said, take the witness.I have no questions to ask him.

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Potter's lawyer replied. A third witnessswore he had often seen the knife in
Potter's possession. Take the witness.Counsel for Potter declined to question him.
The faces of the audience began tobetray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to
throw away his client's life without aneffort. Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty

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behavior when brought to the scene ofthe murder. They were allowed to leave
the stand without being cross questioned.Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred
in the graveyard upon that morning,which all present remembered so well, was
brought out by credible witnesses, butnone of them were cross examined by Potter's
lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction ofthe house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked

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a reproof from the bench. Counselfor the prosecution. Now said, by
the oaths of citizens, whose simpleword is above suspicion, we have fastened
this awful crime beyond all possibility ofquestion, upon the unhappy prisoner at the
bar, we rest our case.Here. A groan escaped from poor Potter,
and he put his face in hishands and rocked his body softly to

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and fro, while a painful silencereigned in the courtroom. Many men were
moved, and many women's compassion testifieditself in tears. Counsel for the defense
rose and said, your honor inour remarks at the opening of this trial,
we foreshadowed our purpose to prove thatour client did this fearful deed while

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under the influence of a blind andirresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have
changed our mind. We shall notoffer that plea. Then to the clerk
call Thomas Sawyer. A puzzled amazementawoke in every face in the house,
not even accepting potters. Every eyefastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom.

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As he rose and took his placeupon the stand. Boy looked wild enough,
for he was badly scared. Theoath was administered, Thomas Sawyer,
Where were you? On the seventeenthof June. About the hour of midnight?
Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face, and his tongue failed him.
The audience listened breathless, but thewords refused to come. After a few

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moments, however, the boy gota little of his strength back and managed
to put enough of it into hisvoice to make part of the house here
in the graveyard a little bit louderpleased, don't be afraid you were in
the graveyard. A contemptuous smile flittedacross Injun Joe's face. Were you anywhere
near Horse William's grave? Yes,sir, speak up just a trifle louder.

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How near were you near? AsI am to you? Were you
hidden or not? I was hid? Where behind the elms that's on the
edge of the grave. Injun Joegave a barely perceptible start. Anyone with
you? Yes, sir, Iwent there with Wait, wait a moment,
never mind mentioning your companion's name.We will produce him at the proper

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time. Did you carry anything therewith you? Tom hesitated and looked confused.
Speak out, my boy, don'tbe diffident. The truth is always
respectable. What did you take there? Only? Ah? Eh, dead
cat. There was a ripple ofmirth, which the court checked. We

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will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us
everything that occurred. Tell it inyour own way. Don't skip anything,
and don't be afraid. Tom beganhesitatingly at first, but as he warmed
to his subject, his words flowedmore and more easily. In a little
while, every sound ceased but hisown voice. Every eye fixed itself upon

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him with parted lips and bated breath. The audience hung upon his words,
taking no note of time wrapped inthe ghastly fascination of the tale. The
strain upon pent emotion reached its climaxwhen the boy said, And as the
doctor fetched the board around and muffPotter fell injun Joe jumped with a knife

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and crash, quick as lightning,The half breed sprang for a window,
tore his way through all opposers,and was gone. End of Chapter twenty three.