Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain - ebook

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn ebook

Mark Twain

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The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is about a young boy, Huck, in search of freedom and adventure. He meets a run away slave named Jim and the two undertake a series of adventures based on the Picaresque novel by Mark Twain. As the story progresses the duo exploit an array of episodic enterprises, while Huckleberry slowly changes his views of bigotry. Along the way, Huck and Jim meet the King and Duke, who ultimately send the protagonists towards a different route on their journey. As Huck begins to have a change of heart, he gradually begins to distinguish between right and wrong, and conclusively, Huck is faced with the moral dilemma between the world’s prejudice, of which he’s grown up with, and the lessons Jim has taught him throughout the story about the evils of racism. The complexity of his character is enhanced by his ability to relate so easily with nature and the river.

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Contents

CHAPTER I. CIVILIZING HUCK.—MISS WATSON.—TOM SAWYER WAITS

CHAPTER II. THE BOYS ESCAPE JIM.—TORN SAWYER’S GANG.—DEEP-LAID PLANS

CHAPTER III. A GOOD GOING-OVER.—GRACE TRIUMPHANT.—“ONE OF TOM SAWYERS’S LIES”

CHAPTER IV. HUCK AND THE JUDGE.—SUPERSTITION

CHAPTER V. HUCK’S FATHER.—THE FOND PARENT.—REFORM

CHAPTER VI. HE WENT FOR JUDGE THATCHER.—HUCK DECIDED TO LEAVE.—POLITICAL ECONOMY.—THRASHING AROUND

CHAPTER VII. LAYING FOR HIM.—LOCKED IN THE CABIN.—SINKING THE BODY.—RESTING

CHAPTER VIII. SLEEPING IN THE WOODS.—RAISING THE DEAD.—EXPLORING THE ISLAND.—FINDING JIM.—JIM’S ESCAPE.—SIGNS.—BALUM

CHAPTER IX. THE CAVE.—THE FLOATING HOUSE

CHAPTER X. THE FIND.—OLD HANK BUNKER.—IN DISGUISE

CHAPTER XI. HUCK AND THE WOMAN.—THE SEARCH.—PREVARICATION.—GOING TO GOSHEN

CHAPTER XII. SLOW NAVIGATION.—BORROWING THINGS.—BOARDING THE WRECK.—THE PLOTTERS.—HUNTING FOR THE BOAT

CHAPTER XIII. ESCAPING FROM THE WRECK.—THE WATCHMAN.—SINKING

CHAPTER XIV. A GENERAL GOOD TIME.—THE HAREM.—FRENCH

CHAPTER XV. HUCK LOSES THE RAFT.—IN THE FOG.—HUCK FINDS THE RAFT.—TRASH

CHAPTER XVI. EXPECTATION.—A WHITE LIE.—FLOATING CURRENCY.—RUNNING BY CAIRO.—SWIMMING ASHORE

CHAPTER XVII. AN EVENING CALL.—THE FARM IN ARKANSAW.—INTERIOR DECORATIONS.—STEPHEN DOWLING BOTS.—POETICAL EFFUSIONS

CHAPTER XVIII. COL. GRANGERFORD.—ARISTOCRACY.—FEUDS.—THE TESTAMENT.—RECOVERING THE RAFT.—THE WOOD—PILE.—PORK AND CABBAGE

CHAPTER XIX. TYING UP DAY—TIMES.—AN ASTRONOMICAL THEORY.—RUNNING A TEMPERANCE REVIVAL.—THE DUKE OF BRIDGEWATER.—THE TROUBLES OF ROYALTY

CHAPTER XX. HUCK EXPLAINS.—LAYING OUT A CAMPAIGN.—WORKING THE CAMP—MEETING.—A PIRATE AT THE CAMP—MEETING.—THE DUKE AS A PRINTER

CHAPTER XXI. SWORD EXERCISE.—HAMLET’S SOLILOQUY.—THEY LOAFED AROUND TOWN.—A LAZY TOWN.—OLD BOGGS.—DEAD

CHAPTER XXII. SHERBURN.—ATTENDING THE CIRCUS.—INTOXICATION IN THE RING.—THE THRILLING TRAGEDY

CHAPTER XXIII. SOLD.—ROYAL COMPARISONS.—JIM GETS HOME-SICK

CHAPTER XXIV. JIM IN ROYAL ROBES.—THEY TAKE A PASSENGER.—GETTING INFORMATION.—FAMILY GRIEF

CHAPTER XXV. IS IT THEM?—SINGING THE “DOXOLOGER.”—AWFUL SQUARE—FUNERAL ORGIES.—A BAD INVESTMEN

CHAPTER XXVI. A PIOUS KING.—THE KING’S CLERGY.—SHE ASKED HIS PARDON.—HIDING IN THE ROOM.—HUCK TAKES THE MONEY

CHAPTER XXVII. THE FUNERAL.—SATISFYING CURIOSITY.—SUSPICIOUS OF HUCK,—QUICK SALES AND SMALL

CHAPTER XXVIII. THE TRIP TO ENGLAND.—“THE BRUTE!”—MARY JANE DECIDES TO LEAVE.—HUCK PARTING WITH MARY JANE.—MUMPS.—THE OPPOSITION LINE

CHAPTER XXIX. CONTESTED RELATIONSHIP.—THE KING EXPLAINS THE LOSS.—A QUESTION OF HANDWRITING.—DIGGING UP THE CORPSE.—HUCK ESCAPES

CHAPTER XXX. THE KING WENT FOR HIM.—A ROYAL ROW.—POWERFUL MELLOW

CHAPTER XXXI. OMINOUS PLANS.—NEWS FROM JIM.—OLD RECOLLECTIONS.—A SHEEP STORY.—VALUABLE INFORMATION

CHAPTER XXXII. STILL AND SUNDAY—LIKE.—MISTAKEN IDENTITY.—UP A STUMP.—IN A DILEMMA

CHAPTER XXXIII. A NIGGER STEALER.—SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY.—A PRETTY LONG BLESSING.—TAR AND FEATHERS

CHAPTER XXXIV. THE HUT BY THE ASH HOPPER.—OUTRAGEOUS.—CLIMBING THE LIGHTNING ROD.—TROUBLED WITH WITCHES

CHAPTER XXXV. ESCAPING PROPERLY.—DARK SCHEMES.—DISCRIMINATION IN STEALING.—A DEEP HOLE

CHAPTER XXXVI. THE LIGHTNING ROD.—HIS LEVEL BEST.—A BEQUEST TO POSTERITY.—A HIGH FIGURE

CHAPTER XXXVII. THE LAST SHIRT.—MOONING AROUND.—SAILING ORDERS.—THE WITCH PIE

CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE COAT OF ARMS.—A SKILLED SUPERINTENDENT.—UNPLEASANT GLORY.—A TEARFUL SUBJECT

CHAPTER XXXIX. RATS.—LIVELY BED—FELLOWS.—THE STRAW DUMMY

CHAPTER XL. FISHING.—THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE.—A LIVELY RUN.—JIM ADVISES A DOCTOR

CHAPTER XLI. THE DOCTOR.—UNCLE SILAS.—SISTER HOTCHKISS.—AUNT SALLY IN TROUBLE

CHAPTER XLII. TOM SAWYER WOUNDED.—THE DOCTOR’S STORY.—TOM CONFESSES.—AUNT POLLY ARRIVES.—HAND OUT THEM LETTERS

CHAPTER THE LAST. OUT OF BONDAGE.—PAYING THE CAPTIVE.—YOURS TRULY, HUCK FINN

CHAPTER I

Scene: The Mississippi Valley Time: Forty to fifty years ago

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 to find out all about him; but by and by she let it out that Moses had been dead a considerable long time; so then I didn’t care no more about him, because I don’t take no stock in dead people.

Pretty soon I wanted to smoke, and asked the widow to let me. But she wouldn’t. She said it was a mean practice and wasn’t clean, and I must try to not do it any more. That is just the way with some people. They get down on a thing when they don’t know nothing about it. Here she was a-bothering about Moses, which was no kin to her, and no use to anybody, being gone, you see, yet finding a power of fault with me for doing a thing that had some good in it. And she took snuff, too; of course that was all right, because she done it herself.

Her sister, Miss Watson, a tolerable slim old maid, with goggles on, had just come to live with her, and took a set at me now with a spelling-book. She worked me middling hard for about an hour, and then the widow made her ease up. I couldn’t stood it much longer. Then for an hour it was deadly dull, and I was fidgety. Miss Watson would say, “Don’t put your feet up there, Huckleberry;” and “Don’t scrunch up like that, Huckleberry–set up straight;” and pretty soon she would say, “Don’t gap and stretch like that, Huckleberry–why don’t you try to behave?” Then she told me all about the bad place, and I said I wished I was there. She got mad then, but I didn’t mean no harm. All I wanted was to go somewheres; all I wanted was a change, I warn’t particular. She said it was wicked to say what I said; said she wouldn’t say it for the whole world; she was going to live so as to go to the good place. Well, I couldn’t see no advantage in going where she was going, so I made up my mind I wouldn’t try for it. But I never said so, because it would only make trouble, and wouldn’t do no good.

Now she had got a start, and she went on and told me all about the good place. She said all a body would have to do there was to go around all day long with a harp and sing, forever and ever. So I didn’t think much of it. But I never said so. I asked her if she reckoned Tom Sawyer would go there, and she said not by a considerable sight. I was glad about that, because I wanted him and me to be together.

Miss Watson she kept pecking at me, and it got tiresome and lonesome. By and by they fetched the niggers in and had prayers, and then everybody was off to bed. I went up to my room with a piece of candle, and put it on the table. Then I set down in a chair by the window and tried to think of something cheerful, but it warn’t no use. I felt so lonesome I most wished I was dead. The stars were shining, and the leaves rustled in the woods ever so mournful; and I heard an owl, away off, who-whooing about somebody that was dead, and a whippowill and a dog crying about somebody that was going to die; and the wind was trying to whisper something to me, and I couldn’t make out what it was, and so it made the cold shivers run over me. Then away out in the woods I heard that kind of a sound that a ghost makes when it wants to tell about something that’s on its mind and can’t make itself understood, and so can’t rest easy in its grave, and has to go about that way every night grieving. I got so down-hearted and scared I did wish I had some company. Pretty soon a spider went crawling up my shoulder, and I flipped it off and it lit in the candle; and before I could budge it was all shriveled up. I didn’t need anybody to tell me that that was an awful bad sign and would fetch me some bad luck, so I was scared and most shook the clothes off of me. I got up and turned around in my tracks three times and crossed my breast every time; and then I tied up a little lock of my hair with a thread to keep witches away. But I hadn’t no confidence. You do that when you’ve lost a horseshoe that you’ve found, instead of nailing it up over the door, but I hadn’t ever heard anybody say it was any way to keep off bad luck when you’d killed a spider.

I set down again, a-shaking all over, and got out my pipe for a smoke; for the house was all as still as death now, and so the widow wouldn’t know. Well, after a long time I heard the clock away off in the town go boom–boom–boom–twelve licks; and all still again–stiller than ever. Pretty soon I heard a twig snap down in the dark amongst the trees–something was a stirring. I set still and listened. Directly I could just barely hear a “me-yow! me-yow!” down there. That was good! Says I, “me-yow! me-yow!” as soft as I could, and then I put out the light and scrambled out of the window on to the shed. Then I slipped down to the ground and crawled in among the trees, and, sure enough, there was Tom Sawyer waiting for me.

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