THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN
(Tom Sawyer’s Comrade)
BY
MARK TWAIN
(Samuel L. Clemens)
Electronic Edition by
Released to the public July 1993
NOTICE
PERSONS attempting to find a motive in this narra-
Tive will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a
Moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to
Find a plot in it will be shot.
BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR,
Per G. G., Chief of Ordnance.
EXPLANATORY
IN this book a number of dialects are used, to wit:
The Missouri negro dialect; the extremest form of the
Backwoods Southwestern dialect; the ordinary “Pike
County” dialect; and four modified varieties of this
Last. The shadings have not been done in a hap-
Hazard fashion, or by guesswork; but painstakingly,
And with the trustworthy guidance and support of
Personal familiarity with these several forms of speech.
I make this explanation for the reason that without
It many readers would suppose that all these characters
Were trying to talk alike and not succeeding.
THE AUTHOR.
HUCKLEBERRY FINN
Scene: The Mississippi Valley
Time: Forty to fifty years ago
CHAPTER I.
YOU don’t know about me without you have read a
Book by the name of The Adventures of Tom
Sawyer; but that ain’t no matter. That book was
Made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth,
Mainly. There was things which he stretched, but
Mainly he told the truth. That is nothing. I never
Seen anybody but lied one time or another, without it
Was Aunt Polly, or the widow, or maybe Mary. Aunt
Polly – Tom’s Aunt Polly, she is – and Mary, and
The Widow Douglas is all told about in that book,
Which is mostly a true book, with some stretchers, as
I said before.
Now the way that the book winds up is this:
Tom
And me found the money that the robbers hid in the
Cave, and it made us rich. We got six thousand dollars
Apiece – all gold. It was an awful sight of money
When it was piled up. Well, Judge Thatcher he took
It and put it out at interest, and it fetched us a dollar
A day apiece all the year round – more than a body
Could tell what to do with. The Widow Douglas she
Took me for her son, and allowed she would sivilize
Me; but it was rough living in the house all the time,
Considering how dismal regular and decent the widow
Was in all her ways; and so when I couldn’t stand it
No longer I lit out. I got into my old rags and my
Sugar-hogshead again, and was free and satisfied. But
Tom Sawyer he hunted me up and said he was going
To start a band of robbers, and I might join if I would
Go back to the widow and be respectable. So I went
Back.
The widow she cried over me, and called me a poor
Lost lamb, and she called me a lot of other names,
Too, but she never meant no harm by it. She put me
In them new clothes again, and I couldn’t do nothing
But sweat and sweat, and feel all cramped up. Well,
Then, the old thing commenced again. The widow
Rung a bell for supper, and you had to come to time.
When you got to the table you couldn’t go right to
Eating, but you had to wait for the widow to tuck
Down her head and grumble a little over the victuals,
Though there warn’t really anything the matter with
Them, – that is, nothing only everything was cooked
By itself. In a barrel of odds and ends it is different;
Things get mixed up, and the juice kind of swaps
Around, and the things go better.
After supper she got out her book and learned me
About Moses and the Bulrushers, and I was in a sweat
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