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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:14:21 -0700 |
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diff --git a/102-h/102-h.htm b/102-h/102-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..45c0cf1 --- /dev/null +++ b/102-h/102-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8253 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Tragedy of Pudd’nhead Wilson by Mark Twain</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + + body { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify;} + p { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + a {text-decoration:none;} + h1, h2 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + h3 { text-align: center; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + font-variant:small-caps; font-weight:normal; font-size:large;} + h4 { text-align: left; font-weight:bold; font-size:small; + margin-bottom:0em;} + ul { margin-top:0; margin-left:1%; margin-right:4%;} + hr { width: 40%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em;} + hr.break { width: 20%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em;} + blockquote { font-size: 90%; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + ins { text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + /* simple function classes */ + .smcap {font-variant:small-caps;} + .small {font-size:small;} + .large {font-size:large;} + .noindent {text-indent: 0%; } + .double-space-top {margin-top:2em;} + + /* pagenumber classes */ + .pagenum { right: 1%; font-size: x-small; background-color: inherit; color: gray; + text-indent: 0em; text-align: right; position: absolute; + /* To remove the page-numbers, use the hidden visibilty feature */ + /* visibility:hidden; */ + border: 1px solid silver; padding: 1px 2px; + font-style: normal; + font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;} + /* table common styling */ +table {margin:0 auto;} +caption {font-variant:small-caps; font-weight:bold; + margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1.5em;} +th {font-size:small;} +tr td {vertical-align:top;} + /* table of contents styling */ +table.toc tr td:first-child {text-align:right; padding-right:.5em; } +table.toc tr td:last-child {text-align:right; padding-left:.5em; } +/* table of dialect styling */ +table.dialect tr th {border-bottom:3px solid gray;} +table.dialect tr td {font-size:small;} +table.dialect tr td:first-child {padding-right:.5em; } + /* poem classes */ +p.poem1 { text-indent:-3em; padding-left:20%; + margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;} +p.poem2 { text-indent:-1.5em; padding-left:20%; + margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;} +div.poem1 {margin-left:3em; font-size:small;} + p.author { text-indent:0; text-align: center; + font-weight:bold; font-size:large;} + p.buscard { text-indent:0; text-align:center; + margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1.5em;} + p.pullquote { text-indent:0; margin-top:1em; font-size:small; + margin-left:15%; margin-right:25%; margin-bottom:0em; } + p.chaptertitle + { text-indent:0; text-align: center; + font-variant:small-caps; + font-weight:bold; font-size:1.2em; + margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + margin-bottom:2em;} + p.signature { text-indent:0; text-align:right; margin-top:0em;} + div.contents { margin-right:5%; + margin-left:5%;} + div.chapterhead { padding-top:4em; } + div.titlepage { padding-top:5%; padding-bottom:5%; + margin-right:15%; margin-left:15%; + text-align: center;} + div.titlepage p { text-indent:0; margin-bottom: .25em; + margin-top:1em; } + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 102 ***</div> + +<div class="titlepage"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_001" id="Page_001">1</a></span> + <h1>The Tragedy of Pudd’nhead Wilson</h1> + <p class="author">By Mark Twain</p> + <p class="small smcap">Samuel L. Clemens</p> + <p><br/></p> + <p class="small"> + 1894<br /> + HARTFORD, CONN.<br /> + AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY + </p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p class="small"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_008" id="Page_008">8</a></span> + Copyright, 1894,<br /> + by OLIVIA L. CLEMENS<br /> + All Rights Reserved <br /> + The right of dramatization and translation reserved.<br /> +</p> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p class="small"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_010" id="Page_010">10</a></span> + Copyright, 1893-1894, by the Century Company, in the Century Magazine.<br /> + Copyright, 1894, by Olivia L. Clemens<br /> + (All Rights Reserved)<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="contents"><a id="Contents" name="Contents"></a> + <hr /> + <h2>Contents</h2> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_012" id="Page_012">12</a></span> +</div> + +<table class="toc" summary="Table of Contents for Puddnhead Wilson" > +<caption>Pudd’nhead Wilson</caption> +<thead> + <tr> + <th>Chapter</th> + <th>Chapter Title</th> + <th>Page</th> + </tr> +</thead> +<tbody> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td class="smcap">A Whisper to the Reader</td> + <td><a href="#link2H_4_0001">15</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>I.</td> + <td class="smcap">Pudd’nhead Wins His Name</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0001">17</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>II.</td> + <td class="smcap">Driscoll Spares His Slaves</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0002">27</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>III.</td> + <td class="smcap">Roxy Plays a Shrewd Trick</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0003">41</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>IV.</td> + <td class="smcap">The Ways of the Changelings</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0004">52</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>V.</td> + <td class="smcap">The Twins Thrill Dawson’s Landing</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0005">67</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>VI.</td> + <td class="smcap">Swimming in Glory</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0006">77</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>VII.</td> + <td class="smcap">The Unknown Nymph</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0007">86</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>VIII.</td> + <td class="smcap">Marse Tom Tramples His Chance</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0008">93</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>IX.</td> + <td class="smcap">Tom Practises Sycophancy</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0009">111</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>X.</td> + <td class="smcap">The Nymph Revealed</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0010">121</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XI.</td> + <td class="smcap">Pudd’nhead’s Startling Discovery </td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0011">130</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XII.</td> + <td class="smcap">The Shame of Judge Driscoll</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0012">155</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XIII.</td> + <td class="smcap">Tom Stares at Ruin </td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0013">166</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XIV.</td> + <td class="smcap">Roxana Insists Upon Reform</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0014">179</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XV.</td> + <td class="smcap">The Robber Robbed</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0015">197</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XVI.</td> + <td class="smcap">Sold Down the River</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0016">214</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XVII.</td> + <td class="smcap">The Judge Utters Dire Prophecy</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0017">221</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XVIII.</td> + <td class="smcap">Roxana Commands</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0018">225</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XIX.</td> + <td class="smcap">The Prophecy Realized</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0019">246</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XX.</td> + <td class="smcap">The Murderer Chuckles</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0020">263</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XXI.</td> + <td class="smcap">Doom</td> + <td><a href="#link2HCH0021">278</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td class="smcap">Conclusion</td> + <td><a href="#link2H_CONC">300</a></td> + </tr> +</tbody> +</table> + + <p><br /><br /> + </p> + + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_015" id="Page_015">15</a></span> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"></a> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">A Whisper</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">to the Reader.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + There is no character, howsoever good and fine, but it can + be destroyed by ridicule, howsoever poor and witless. + Observe the ass, for instance: his character is about + perfect, he is the choicest spirit among all the humbler + animals, yet see what ridicule has brought him to. Instead + of feeling complimented when we are called an ass, we are + left in doubt.<i>—Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">A person</span> who is ignorant of legal matters is + always liable to make mistakes when he tries to photograph a court scene + with his pen; and so I was not willing to let the law chapters in this + book go to press without first subjecting them to rigid and exhausting + revision and correction by a trained barrister—if that is what they + are called. These chapters are right, now, in every detail, for they were + rewritten under the immediate eye of William Hicks, who studied law part + of a while in southwest Missouri thirty-five years ago and then came over + here to Florence for his health and is still helping for exercise and + board in Macaroni Vermicelli’s horse-feed shed which is up the + back alley as you turn around the corner out of the Piazza del Duomo just + beyond the house where that stone that Dante used to sit on six hundred + years ago is let into the wall + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_016" id="Page_016">16</a></span> + when he let on to be watching them build + Giotto’s campanile and yet always got tired looking as soon as + Beatrice passed along on her way to get a chunk of chestnut cake to defend + herself with in case of a Ghibelline outbreak before she got to school, at + the same old stand where they sell the same old cake to this day and it is + just as light and good as it was then, too, and this is not flattery, far + from it. He was a little rusty on his law, but he rubbed up for this book, + and those two or three legal chapters are right and straight, now. + He told me so himself. + </p> + <p> + Given under my hand this second day of January, 1893, at the Villa + Viviani, village of Settignano, three miles back of Florence, on the + hills—the same certainly affording the most charming view to be + found on this planet, and with it the most dreamlike and enchanting + sunsets to be found in any planet or even in any solar system—and + given, too, in the swell room of the house, with the busts of Cerretani + senators and other grandees of this line looking approvingly down upon + me as they used to look down upon Dante, and mutely asking me to adopt + them into my family, which I do with pleasure, for my remotest ancestors + are but spring chickens compared with these robed and stately antiques, + and it will be a great and satisfying lift for me, that six hundred + years will. + </p> + <p class="signature"> + <i>Mark Twain.</i> + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_017" id="Page_017">17</a></span> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"></a> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER I.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Pudd’nhead Wins His Name.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Tell the truth or trump—but get the trick.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">The</span> scene of this chronicle is the town of + Dawson’s Landing, on the Missouri side of the Mississippi, half a + day’s journey, per steamboat, below St. Louis. + </p> + <p> + In 1830 it was a snug little collection of modest one- and two-story frame + dwellings whose whitewashed exteriors were almost concealed from sight by + climbing tangles of rose-vines, honeysuckles, and morning-glories. Each of + these pretty homes had a garden in front fenced with white palings and + opulently stocked with hollyhocks, marigolds, touch-me-nots, + prince’s-feathers and other old-fashioned flowers; while on the + window-sills of the houses stood wooden boxes containing moss-rose + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_018" id="Page_018">18</a></span> + plants + and terra-cotta pots in which grew a breed of geranium whose spread of + intensely red blossoms accented the prevailing pink tint of the rose-clad + house-front like an explosion of flame. When there was room on the ledge + outside of the pots and boxes for a cat, the cat was there—in sunny + weather—stretched at full length, asleep and blissful, with her + furry belly to the sun and a paw curved over her nose. Then that house was + complete, and its contentment and peace were made manifest to the world by + this symbol, whose testimony is infallible. A home without a cat—and + a well-fed, well-petted and properly revered cat—may be a perfect + home, perhaps, but how can it prove title? + </p> + <p> + All along the streets, on both sides, at the outer edge of the brick + sidewalks, stood locust-trees with trunks protected by wooden boxing, and + these furnished shade for summer and a sweet fragrance in spring when + the clusters of buds came forth. The main street, one block back from the + river, and running parallel with it, was the sole business street. It was + six blocks long, and in each block two + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_019" id="Page_019">19</a></span> + or three brick stores three stories high towered above interjected bunches + of little frame shops. Swinging signs creaked in the wind, the + street’s whole length. The candy-striped pole which indicates + nobility proud and ancient along the palace-bordered canals of Venice, + indicated merely the humble + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: barber-shop was transcribed as barber shop."> + barber shop</ins> along the main street of Dawson’s Landing. On a + chief corner stood a lofty unpainted pole wreathed from top to bottom + with tin pots and pans and cups, the chief tinmonger’s noisy notice + to the world (when the wind blew) that his shop was on hand for business + at that corner. + </p> + <p> + The hamlet’s front was washed by the clear waters of the great + river; its body stretched itself rearward up a gentle incline; its most + rearward border fringed itself out and scattered its houses about the + base-line of the hills; the hills rose high, inclosing the town in a + half-moon curve, clothed with forests from foot to summit. + </p> + <p> + Steamboats passed up and down every hour or so. Those belonging to the + little Cairo line and the little Memphis line always + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_020" id="Page_020">20</a></span> + stopped; the big Orleans liners stopped for hails only, or to land + passengers or freight; and this was the case also with the great + flotilla of “transients.” These latter came out of a + dozen rivers—the Illinois, the Missouri, the Upper Mississippi, + the Ohio, the Monongahela, the Tennessee, the Red River, the White River, + and so on; and were bound every whither and stocked with every imaginable + comfort or necessity which the Mississippi’s communities could want, + from the frosty Falls of St. Anthony down through nine climates to torrid + New Orleans. + </p> + <p> + Dawson’s Landing was a slaveholding town, with a rich + slave-worked grain and pork country back of it. The town was sleepy + and comfortable and contented. It was fifty years old, and was growing + slowly—very slowly, in fact, but still it was growing. + </p> + <p> + The chief citizen was York Leicester Driscoll, about forty years old, + judge of the county court. He was very proud of his old Virginian + ancestry, and in his hospitalities and his rather formal and stately + manners he kept up its traditions. He was fine and just + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_021" id="Page_021">21</a></span> + and generous. To be a gentleman—a gentleman without stain or + blemish—was his only religion, and to it he was always faithful. + He was respected, esteemed and beloved by all the community. He was + well off, and was gradually adding to his store. He and his wife were + very nearly happy, but not quite, for they had no children. The longing + for the treasure of a child had grown stronger and stronger as the years + slipped away, but the blessing never came—and was never to come. + </p> + <p> + With this pair lived the Judge’s widowed sister, Mrs. Rachel + Pratt, and she also was childless—childless, and sorrowful for + that reason, and not to be comforted. The women were good and commonplace + people, and did their duty and had their reward in clear consciences and + the community’s approbation. They were Presbyterians, the Judge + was a free-thinker. + </p> + <p> + Pembroke Howard, lawyer and bachelor, aged about forty, was another old + Virginian grandee with proved descent from the First Families. He was a + fine, brave, majestic + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_022" id="Page_022">22</a></span> + creature, a gentleman according to the nicest requirements of the Virginia + rule, a devoted Presbyterian, an authority on the “code,” and + a man always courteously ready to stand up before you in the field if any + act or word of his had seemed doubtful or suspicious to you, and explain + it with any weapon you might prefer from brad-awls to artillery. He was + very popular with the people, and was the Judge’s dearest friend. + </p> + <p> + Then there was Colonel Cecil Burleigh Essex, another F. F. V. + of formidable caliber—however, with him we have no concern. + </p> + <p> + Percy Northumberland Driscoll, brother to the Judge, and younger than he + by five years, was a married man, and had had children around his + hearthstone; but they were attacked in detail by measles, croup and + scarlet fever, and this had given the doctor a chance with his effective + antediluvian methods; so the cradles were empty. He was a prosperous man, + with a good head for speculations, and his fortune was growing. On the + 1st of February, 1830, two boy babes were born in his house: one to him, + the other to + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_023" id="Page_023">23</a></span> + one of his slave girls, Roxana by name. Roxana was twenty + years old. She was up and around the same day, with her hands full, for + she was tending both babies. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Percy Driscoll died within the week. Roxy remained in charge of the + children. She had her own way, for Mr. Driscoll soon absorbed himself in + his speculations and left her to her own devices. + </p> + <p> + In that same month of February, Dawson’s Landing gained a new + citizen. This was Mr. David Wilson, a young fellow of Scotch parentage. + He had wandered to this remote region from his birthplace in the interior + of the State of New York, to seek his fortune. He was twenty-five years + old, college-bred, and had finished a post-college course in an Eastern + law school a couple of years before. + </p> + <p> + He was a homely, freckled, sandy-haired young fellow, with an intelligent + blue eye that had frankness and comradeship in it and a covert twinkle of + a pleasant sort. But for an unfortunate remark of his, he would no doubt + have entered at once upon a successful career at Dawson’s Landing. + But he made his fatal remark + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_024" id="Page_024">24</a></span> + the first day he spent in the village, and it “gaged” him. + He had just made the acquaintance of a group of citizens when an invisible + dog began to yelp and snarl and howl and make himself very comprehensively + disagreeable, whereupon young Wilson said, much as one who is thinking + aloud— + </p> + <p> + “I wish I owned half of that dog.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” somebody asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because I would kill my half.” + </p> + <p> + The group searched his face with curiosity, with anxiety even, but found + no light there, no expression that they could read. They fell away from + him as from something uncanny, and went into privacy to discuss him. One + said: + </p> + <p> + “’Pears to be a fool.” + </p> + <p> + “’Pears?” said another. + “<i>Is,</i> I reckon you better say.” + </p> + <p> + “Said he wished he owned <i>half</i> of the dog, the idiot,” + said a third. “What did he reckon would become of the other half + if he killed his half? Do you reckon he thought it would live?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he must have thought it, unless he <i>is</i> the downrightest + fool in the world; because if + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_025" id="Page_025">25</a></span> + he hadn’t thought it, he would have wanted to own the whole dog, + knowing that if he killed his half and the other half died, he would be + responsible for that half just the same as if he had killed that half + instead of his own. Don’t it look that way to you, gents?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it does. If he owned one half of the general dog, it would be + so; if he owned one end of the dog and another person owned the other + end, it would be so, just the same; particularly in the first case, + because if you kill one half of a general dog, there ain’t any man + that can tell whose half it was, but if he owned one end of the dog, + maybe he could kill his end of it and—” + </p> + <p> + “No, he couldn’t either; he couldn’t and not be + responsible if the other end died, which it would. In my opinion + the man ain’t in his right mind.” + </p> + <p> + “In my opinion he hain’t <i>got</i> any mind.” + </p> + <p> + No. 3 said: “Well, he’s a lummox, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what he is,” said No. 4, “he’s + a labrick—just a Simon-pure labrick, if ever there was one.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_026" id="Page_026">26</a></span> + “Yes, sir, he’s a dam fool, that’s the way I put + him up,” said No. 5. “Anybody can think different that + wants to, but those are my sentiments.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m with you, gentlemen,” said No. 6. “Perfect + jackass—yes, and it ain’t going too far to say he is a + pudd’nhead. If he ain’t a pudd’nhead, I + ain’t no judge, that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilson stood elected. The incident was told all over the town, and + gravely discussed by everybody. Within a week he had lost his first name; + Pudd’nhead took its place. In time he came to be liked, and well + liked too; but by that time the nickname had got well stuck on, and it + stayed. That first day’s verdict made him a fool, and he was not + able to get it set aside, or even modified. The nickname soon ceased to + carry any harsh or unfriendly feeling with it, but it held its place, and + was to continue to hold its place for twenty long years. + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_027" id="Page_027">27</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER II.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Driscoll Spares His Slaves.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Adam was but human—this explains it all. He did not want + the apple for the apple’s sake, he wanted it only because it + was forbidden. The mistake was in not forbidding the + serpent; then he would have eaten the serpent.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">Pudd’nhead Wilson</span> had a trifle of money + when he arrived, and he bought a small house on the extreme western verge + of the town. Between it and Judge Driscoll’s house there was only a + grassy yard, with a paling fence dividing the properties in the middle. He + hired a small office down in the town and hung out a tin sign with these + words on it: + </p> + <p class="buscard small"> + <span class="large">DAVID WILSON.</span><br /><br /> + ATTORNEY AND COUNSELOR-AT-LAW. <br /> + SURVEYING, CONVEYANCING, ETC.<br /> + </p> + <p> + But his deadly remark had ruined his chance—at least in the law. No + clients came. He + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_028" id="Page_028">28</a></span> + took down his sign, after a while, and put it up on his own house with the + law features knocked out of it. It offered his services now in the humble + capacities of land-surveyor and expert accountant. Now and then he got a + job of surveying to do, and now and then a merchant got him to straighten + out his books. With Scotch patience and pluck he resolved to live down his + reputation and work his way into the legal field yet. Poor fellow, he + could not foresee that it was going to take him such a weary long time + to do it. + </p> + <p> + He had a rich abundance of idle time, but it never hung heavy on his + hands, for he interested himself in every new thing that was born into the + universe of ideas, and studied it and experimented upon it at his house. + One of his pet fads was palmistry. To another one he gave no name, neither + would he explain to anybody what its purpose was, but merely said it was + an amusement. In fact he had found that his fads added to his reputation + as a pudd’nhead; therefore he was growing chary of being too + communicative about them. The fad without a name was one which dealt + with + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_029" id="Page_029">29</a></span> + people’s finger-marks. He carried in his coat pocket a shallow + box with grooves in it, and in the grooves strips of glass five inches + long and three inches wide. Along the lower edge of each strip was pasted + a slip of white paper. He asked people to pass their hands through their + hair (thus collecting upon them a thin coating of the natural oil) and + then make a thumb-mark on a glass strip, following it with the mark of + the ball of each finger in succession. Under this row of faint + grease-prints he would write a record on the strip of white + paper—thus: + </p> + <p class="buscard"> + <span class="smcap">John Smith</span>, <i>right hand</i>— + </p> + <p class="noindent"> + and add the day of the month and the year, then take Smith’s + left hand on another glass strip, and add name and date and the words + “left hand.” The strips were now returned to the grooved box, + and took their place among what Wilson called his “records.” + </p> + <p> + He often studied his records, examining and poring over them with + absorbing interest until far into the night; but what he found + there—if + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_030" id="Page_030">30</a></span> + he found anything—he revealed to no one. Sometimes + he copied on paper the involved and delicate pattern left by the ball + of a finger, and then vastly enlarged it with a pantograph so that + he could examine its web of curving lines with ease and convenience. + </p> + <p> + One sweltering afternoon—it was the first day of July, 1830—he + was at work over a set of tangled account-books in his work-room, which + looked westward over a stretch of vacant lots, when a conversation outside + disturbed him. It was carried on in yells, which showed that the people + engaged in it were not close together: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Roxy, how does yo’ baby come on?” + This from the distant voice. + </p> + <p> + “Fust-rate; how does <i>you</i> come on, Jasper?” + This yell was from close by. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’s middlin’; hain’t got + noth’n’ to complain of. I’s gwine to come + a-court’n’ you bimeby, Roxy.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> is, you black mud-cat! Yah—yah—yah! + I got somep’n’ better to do den ’sociat’n’ + wid niggers as black as you is. Is ole Miss Cooper’s Nancy done give + you de mitten?” + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_031" id="Page_031">31</a></span> + Roxy followed this sally with another discharge of care-free laughter. + </p> + <p> + “You’s jealous, Roxy, dat’s what’s de + matter wid <i>you</i>, you hussy—yah—yah—yah! + Dat’s de time I got you!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, <i>you</i> got me, hain’t you. ’Clah to + goodness if dat conceit o’ yo’n strikes in, Jasper, + it gwine to kill you sho’. If you b’longed to + me I’d sell you down de river ’fo’ you git + too fur gone. Fust time I runs acrost yo’ marster, + I’s gwine to tell him so.” + </p> + <p> + This idle and aimless jabber went on and on, both parties enjoying the + friendly duel and each well satisfied with his own share of the wit + exchanged—for wit they considered it. + </p> + <p> + Wilson stepped to the window to observe the combatants; he could not work + while their chatter continued. Over in the vacant lots was Jasper, young, + coal-black and of magnificent build, sitting on a wheelbarrow in the + pelting sun—at work, supposably, whereas he was in fact only + preparing for it by taking an hour’s rest before beginning. In + front of Wilson’s porch stood Roxy, with a local hand-made + baby-wagon, in which sat her two charges—one + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_032" id="Page_032">32</a></span> + at each end and facing each other. From Roxy’s manner of speech, + a stranger would have expected her to be black, but she was not. Only + one sixteenth of her was black, and that sixteenth did not show. She was + of majestic form and stature, her attitudes were imposing and statuesque, + and her gestures and movements distinguished by a noble and stately grace. + Her complexion was very fair, with the rosy glow of vigorous health in + the cheeks, her face was full of character and expression, her eyes were + brown and liquid, and she had a heavy suit of fine soft hair which was + also brown, but the fact was not apparent because her head was bound about + with a checkered handkerchief and the hair was concealed under it. Her + face was shapely, intelligent and comely—even beautiful. She had an + easy, independent carriage—when she was among her own + caste—and a high and “sassy” way, withal; but of course + she was meek and humble enough where white people were. + </p> + <p> + To all intents and purposes Roxy was as white as anybody, but the one + sixteenth of her which was black outvoted the other fifteen + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_033" id="Page_033">33</a></span> + parts and made her a negro. She was a slave, and salable as such. Her + child was thirty-one parts white, and he, too, was a slave, and by a + fiction of law and custom a negro. He had blue eyes and flaxen curls + like his white comrade, but even the father of the white child was able + to tell the children apart—little as he had commerce with + them—by their clothes: for the white babe wore ruffled soft muslin + and a coral necklace, while the other wore merely a coarse tow-linen + shirt which barely reached to its knees, and no jewelry. + </p> + <p> + The white child’s name was Thomas à Becket Driscoll, + the other’s name was Valet de Chambre: no surname—slaves + hadn’t the privilege. Roxana had heard that phrase somewhere, + the fine sound of it had pleased her ear, and as she had supposed it + was a name, she loaded it on to her darling. It soon got shorted to + “Chambers,” of course. + </p> + <p> + Wilson knew Roxy by sight, and when the duel of wit began to play out, he + stepped outside to gather in a record or two. Jasper went to work + energetically, at once, perceiving + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_034" id="Page_034">34</a></span> + that his leisure was observed. Wilson inspected the children and + asked— + </p> + <p> + “How old are they, Roxy?” + </p> + <p> + “Bofe de same age, sir—five months. + Bawn de fust o’ Feb’uary.” + </p> + <p> + “They’re handsome little chaps. + One’s just as handsome as the other, too.” + </p> + <p> + A delighted smile exposed the girl’s white teeth, and she said: + </p> + <p> + “Bless yo’ soul, Misto Wilson, it’s pow’ful + nice o’ you to say dat, ’ca’se one of ’em + ain’t on’y a nigger. Mighty prime little nigger, + <i>I</i> al’ays says, but dat’s + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: change ca'se to 'ca'se."> + ’ca’se</ins> it’s mine, o’ course.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you tell them apart, Roxy, when they + haven’t any clothes on?” + </p> + <p> + Roxy laughed a laugh proportioned to her size, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, <i>I</i> kin tell ’em ’part, Misto Wilson, + but I bet Marse Percy couldn’t, not to save his life.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson chatted along for awhile, and presently got Roxy’s + finger-prints for his collection—right hand and left—on a + couple of his glass strips; then labeled and dated them, and took + the “records” of both children, and labeled and dated them + also. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_035" id="Page_035">35</a></span> + Two months later, on the 3d of September, he took this trio of + finger-marks again. He liked to have a “series,” two or + three “takings” at intervals during the period of childhood, + these to be followed by others at intervals of several years. + </p> + <p> + The next day—that is to say, on the 4th of September—something + occurred which profoundly impressed Roxana. Mr. Driscoll missed another + small sum of money—which is a way of saying that this was not a new + thing, but had happened before. In truth it had happened three times + before. Driscoll’s patience was exhausted. He was a fairly humane + man toward slaves and other animals; he was an exceedingly humane man + toward the erring of his own race. Theft he could not abide, and plainly + there was a thief in his house. Necessarily the thief must be one of his + negroes. Sharp measures must be taken. He called his servants before him. + There were three of these, besides Roxy: a man, a woman, and a boy twelve + years old. They were not related. Mr. Driscoll said: + </p> + <p> + “You have all been warned before. It has + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_036" id="Page_036">36</a></span> + done no good. This time I will teach you a lesson. I will sell the thief. + Which of you is the guilty one?” + </p> + <p> + They all shuddered at the threat, for here they had a good home, and a new + one was likely to be a change for the worse. The denial was general. None + had stolen anything—not money, anyway—a little sugar, or cake, + or honey, or something like that, that “Marse Percy wouldn’t + mind or miss,” but not money—never a cent of money. They were + eloquent in their protestations, but Mr. Driscoll was not moved by them. + He answered each in turn with a stern “Name the thief!” + </p> + <p> + The truth was, all were guilty but Roxana; she suspected that the others + were guilty, but she did not know them to be so. She was horrified to + think how near she had come to being guilty herself; she had been saved in + the nick of time by a revival in the colored Methodist Church, a fortnight + before, at which time and place she “got religion.” The very + next day after that gracious experience, while her change of style was + fresh upon her and she was vain of her purified + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_037" id="Page_037">37</a></span> + condition, her master left a couple dollars lying unprotected on his desk, + and she happened upon that temptation when she was polishing around with + a dust-rag. She looked at the money awhile with a steady rising + resentment, then she burst out with— + </p> + <p> + “Dad blame dat revival, I wisht it had ’a’ + be’n put off till to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + Then she covered the tempter with a book, and another member of the + kitchen cabinet got it. She made this sacrifice as a matter of religious + etiquette; as a thing necessary just now, but by no means to be wrested + into a precedent; no, a week or two would limber up her piety, then she + would be rational again, and the next two dollars that got left out in the + cold would find a comforter—and she could name the comforter. + </p> + <p> + Was she bad? Was she worse than the general run of her race? No. They had + an unfair show in the battle of life, and they held it no sin to take + military advantage of the enemy—in a small way; in a small way, but + not in a large one. They would smouch provisions from the pantry whenever + they got a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_038" id="Page_038">38</a></span> + chance; or a brass thimble, or a cake of wax, or an emery-bag, or a paper + of needles, or a silver spoon, or a dollar bill, or small articles of + clothing, or any other property of light value; and so far were they from + considering such reprisals sinful, that they would go to church and shout + and pray the loudest and sincerest with their plunder in their pockets. A + farm smoke-house had to be kept heavily padlocked, for even the colored + deacon himself could not resist a ham when Providence showed him in a + dream, or otherwise, where such a thing hung lonesome and longed for some + one to love. But with a hundred hanging before him the deacon would not + take two—that is, on the same night. On frosty nights the humane + negro prowler would warm the end of a plank and put it up under + the cold claws of chickens roosting in a tree; a drowsy hen would step on + to the comfortable board, softly clucking her gratitude, and the prowler + would dump her into his bag, and later into his stomach, perfectly sure + that in taking this trifle from the man who daily robbed + him of an inestimable treasure—his + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_039" id="Page_039">39</a></span> + liberty—he was not committing any sin that God would remember + against him in the Last Great Day. + </p> + <p> + “Name the thief!” + </p> + <p> + For the fourth time Mr. Driscoll had said it, and always in the same hard + tone. And now he added these words of awful import: + </p> + <p> + “I give you one minute”—he took out his watch. + “If at the end of that time you have not confessed, I will + not only sell all four of you, <i>but</i>—I + will sell you <span class="smcap">down the river</span>!” + </p> + <p> + It was equivalent to condemning them to hell! No Missouri negro doubted + this. Roxy reeled in her tracks and the color vanished out of her face; + the others dropped to their knees as if they had been shot; tears gushed + from their eyes, their supplicating hands went up, and three answers came + in the one instant: + </p> + <p> + “I done it!” + </p> + <p> + “I done it!” + </p> + <p> + “I done it!—have mercy, marster—Lord have + mercy on us po’ niggers!” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said the master, putting up his watch, + “I will sell you <i>here</i> though you don’t + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_040" id="Page_040">40</a></span> + deserve it. You ought to be sold down the river.” + </p> + <p> + The culprits flung themselves prone, in an ecstasy of gratitude, and + kissed his feet, declaring that they would never forget his goodness and + never cease to pray for him as long as they lived. They were sincere, for + like a god he had stretched forth his mighty hand and closed the gates of + hell against them. He knew, himself, that he had done a noble and gracious + thing, and was privately well pleased with his magnanimity; and that night + he set the incident down in his diary, so that his son might read it in + after years, and be thereby moved to deeds of gentleness and humanity + himself. + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_041" id="Page_041">41</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER III.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Roxy Plays a Shrewd Trick.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Whoever has lived long enough to find out what life is, + knows how deep a debt of gratitude we owe to Adam, the first + great benefactor of our race. He brought death into the + world.<i>—Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">Percy Driscoll</span> slept well the night he saved + his house-minions from going down the river, but no wink of sleep visited + Roxy’s eyes. A profound terror had taken possession of her. Her + child could grow up and be sold down the river! The thought crazed her + with horror. If she dozed and lost herself for a moment, the next moment + she was on her feet flying to her child’s cradle to see if it was + still there. Then she would gather it to her heart and pour out her love + upon it in a frenzy of kisses, moaning, crying, and saying, “Dey + sha’n’t, oh, dey <i>sha’n’t!</i>—yo’ + po’ mammy will kill you fust!” + </p> + <p> + Once, when she was tucking it back in its + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_042" id="Page_042">42</a></span> + cradle again, the other child nestled in its sleep and attracted her + attention. She went and stood over it a long time communing with herself: + </p> + <p> + “What has my po’ baby done, dat he couldn’t have + yo’ luck? He hain’t done noth’n’. God was good + to you; why warn’t he good to him? Dey can’t sell <i>you</i> + down de river. I hates yo’ pappy; he hain’t got no + heart—for niggers he hain’t, anyways. I hates him, en I + could kill him!” She paused awhile, thinking; then she burst into + wild sobbings again, and turned away, saying, “Oh, I got to + kill my chile, dey ain’t no yuther way,—killin’ + <i>him</i> wouldn’t save de chile fum goin’ down de river. + Oh, I got to do it, yo’ po’ mammy’s got to kill you + to save you, honey”—she gathered her baby to her bosom, now, + and began to smother it with caresses—“Mammy’s got + to kill you—how <i>kin</i> I do it! But yo’ mammy ain’t + gwine to desert you—no, no; <i>dah</i>, don’t cry—she + gwine <i>wid</i> you, she gwine to kill herself too. Come along, honey, + come along wid mammy; we gwine to jump in de river, den de troubles + o’ dis worl’ + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_043" id="Page_043">43</a></span> + is all over—dey don’t sell po’ niggers down the river + over <i>yonder</i>.” + </p> + <p> + She started toward the door, crooning to the child and hushing it; midway + she stopped, suddenly. She had caught sight of her new Sunday gown—a + cheap curtain-calico thing, a conflagration of gaudy colors and fantastic + figures. She surveyed it wistfully, longingly. + </p> + <p> + “Hain’t ever wore it yet,” she said, “en + it’s jist lovely.” Then she nodded her head in response to a + pleasant idea, and added, “No, I ain’t gwine to be fished out, + wid everybody lookin’ at me, in dis mis’able ole + linsey-woolsey.” + </p> + <p> + She put down the child and made the change. She looked in the glass and + was astonished at her beauty. She resolved to make her death-toilet + perfect. She took off her handkerchief-turban and dressed her glossy + wealth of hair “like white folks”; she added + some odds and ends of rather lurid ribbon and a spray of atrocious + artificial flowers; finally she threw over her shoulders a fluffy thing + called a “cloud” in that day, which was of a blazing red + complexion. Then she was ready for the + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: insert missing period after tomb."> + tomb.</ins> + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_044" id="Page_044">44</a></span> + She gathered up her baby once more; but when her eye fell upon its + miserably short little gray tow-linen shirt and noted the contrast between + its pauper shabbiness and her own volcanic irruption of infernal + splendors, her mother-heart was touched, and she was ashamed. + </p> + <p> + “No, dolling, mammy ain’t gwine to treat you so. De angels + is gwine to ’mire you jist as much as dey does yo’ mammy. + Ain’t gwine to have ’em putt’n’ dey han’s + up ’fo’ dey eyes en sayin’ to David en Goliah en dem + yuther prophets, ‘Dat chile is dress’ too indelicate + fo’ dis place.’” + </p> + <p> + By this time she had stripped off the shirt. Now she clothed the naked + little creature in one of Thomas à Becket’s snowy long + baby-gowns, with its bright blue bows and dainty flummery of ruffles. + </p> + <p> + “Dah—now you’s fixed.” She propped the child + in a chair and stood off to inspect it. Straightway her eyes began to + widen with astonishment and admiration, and she clapped her hands and + cried out, “Why, it do beat all!—I <i>never</i> knowed + you was so lovely. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_045" id="Page_045">45</a></span> + Marse Tommy ain’t a bit puttier—not a single bit.” + </p> + <p> + She stepped over and glanced at the other infant; she flung a glance back + at her own; then one more at the heir of the house. Now a strange light + dawned in her eyes, and in a moment she was lost in thought. She seemed in + a trance; when she came out of it she muttered, “When I ’uz + a-washin’ ’em in de tub, yistiddy, his own pappy asked me + which of ’em was his’n.” + </p> + <p> + She began to move about like one in a dream. She undressed Thomas + à Becket, stripping him of everything, and put the tow-linen + shirt on him. She put his coral necklace on her own child’s neck. + Then she placed the children side by side, and after earnest inspection + she muttered— + </p> + <p> + “Now who would b’lieve clo’es could do de like + o’ dat? Dog my cats if it ain’t all <i>I</i> kin do to + tell t’other fum which, let alone his pappy.” + </p> + <p> + She put her cub in Tommy’s elegant cradle and said— + </p> + <p> + “You’s young Marse <i>Tom</i> fum dis out, en + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_046" id="Page_046">46</a></span> + I got to practise and git used to ’memberin’ to call you dat, + honey, or I’s gwine to make a mistake some time en git us bofe into + trouble. Dah—now you lay still en don’t fret no mo’, + Marse Tom—oh, thank de good Lord in heaven, you’s saved, + you’s saved!—dey ain’t no man kin ever sell + mammy’s po’ little honey down de river now!” + </p> + <p> + She put the heir of the house in her own child’s unpainted pine + cradle, and said, contemplating its slumbering form uneasily— + </p> + <p> + “I’s sorry for you, honey; I’s sorry, God knows I + is,—but what <i>kin</i> I do, what <i>could</i> I do? Yo’ + pappy would sell him to somebody, some time, en den he’d go down + de river, sho’, en I couldn’t, couldn’t, + <i>couldn’t</i> stan’ it.” + </p> + <p> + She flung herself on her bed and began to think and toss, toss and think. + By and by she sat suddenly upright, for a comforting thought had flown + through her worried mind— + </p> + <p> + “’Tain’t no sin—<i>white</i> folks has done it! + It ain’t no sin, glory to goodness it ain’t no sin! + <i>Dey’s</i> done it—yes, en dey was de biggest quality + in de whole bilin’, too—<i>kings!</i>” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_047" id="Page_047">47</a></span> + She began to muse; she was trying to gather out of her memory the dim + particulars of some tale she had heard some time or other. At last she + said— + </p> + <p> + “Now I’s got it; now I ’member. It was dat ole nigger + preacher dat tole it, de time he come over here fum Illinois en preached + in de nigger church. He said dey ain’t nobody kin save his own + self—can’t do it by faith, can’t do it by works, + can’t do it no way at all. Free grace is de <i>on’y</i> + way, en dat don’t come fum nobody but jis’ de Lord; + en <i>he</i> kin give it to anybody he please, + saint or sinner—<i>he</i> don’t kyer. He do jis’ as + he’s a mineter. He s’lect out anybody dat suit him, en + put another one in his place, and make de fust one happy forever en leave + t’other one to burn wid Satan. De preacher said it was jist like + dey done in Englan’ one time, long time ago. De queen she + lef’ her baby layin’ aroun’ one day, en went out + callin’; en one o’ de niggers roun’-’bout de + place dat was ’mos’ white, she come in en see de chile + layin’ aroun’, en tuck en put her own chile’s + clo’es on de queen’s chile, en put de queen’s + chile’s clo’es on her own + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_048" id="Page_048">48</a></span> + chile, en den lef’ her own chile layin’ aroun’ en tuck + en toted de queen’s chile home to de nigger-quarter, en nobody ever + foun’ it out, en her chile was de king bimeby, en sole de + queen’s chile down de river one time when dey had to settle up de + estate. Dah, now—de preacher said it his own self, en it + ain’t no sin, ’ca’se white folks done it. <i>Dey</i> + done it—yes, <i>dey</i> done it; en not on’y jis’ + common white folks nuther, but de biggest quality dey is in de whole + bilin’. Oh, I’s <i>so</i> glad I ’member ’bout + dat!” + </p> + <p> + She got up light-hearted and happy, and went to the cradles and spent what + was left of the night “practising.” She would give her + own child a light pat and say humbly, “Lay still, Marse + Tom,” then give the real Tom a pat and say with severity, + “Lay <i>still</i>, Chambers!—does you want me to + take somep’n’ <i>to</i> you?” + </p> + <p> + As she progressed with her practice, she was surprised to see how steadily + and surely the awe which had kept her tongue reverent and her manner + humble toward her young master was transferring itself to her speech + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_049" id="Page_049">49</a></span> + and manner toward the usurper, and how similarly handy she was becoming in + transferring her motherly curtness of speech and peremptoriness of manner + to the unlucky heir of the ancient house of Driscoll. + </p> + <p> + She took occasional rests from practising, and absorbed herself in + calculating her chances. + </p> + <p> + “Dey’ll sell dese niggers to-day fo’ stealin’ + de money, den dey’ll buy some mo’ dat don’t know + de chillen—so <i>dat’s</i> all right. When I takes + de chillen out to git de air, de minute I’s roun’ de + corner I’s gwine to gaum dey mouths all roun’ wid jam, + den dey can’t <i>nobody</i> notice dey’s changed. Yes, + I gwineter do dat till I’s safe, if it’s a year. + </p> + <p> + “Dey ain’t but one man dat I’s afeard of, en + dat’s dat Pudd’nhead Wilson. Dey calls him a pudd’nhead, + en says he’s a fool. My lan’, dat man ain’t no + mo’ fool den I is! He’s de smartes’ man in dis town, + less’n it’s Jedge Driscoll or maybe Pem Howard. Blame dat man, + he worries me wid dem ornery glasses o’ hisn; <i>I</i> + b’lieve he’s a witch. But nemmine, I’s gwine to + happen aroun’ dah one o’ dese days en let on dat I reckon + he wants to print + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_050" id="Page_050">50</a></span> + de chillen’s fingers ag’in; en if <i>he</i> + don’t notice dey’s changed, I bound dey ain’t nobody + gwine to notice it, en den I’s safe, sho’. But I + reckon I’ll tote along a hoss-shoe to keep off de witch-work.” + </p> + <p> + The new negroes gave Roxy no trouble, of course. The master gave her none, + for one of his speculations was in jeopardy, and his mind was so occupied + that he hardly saw the children when he looked at them, and all Roxy had + to do was to get them both into a gale of laughter when he came about; + then their faces were mainly cavities exposing gums, and he was gone again + before the spasm passed and the little creatures resumed a human aspect. + </p> + <p> + Within a few days the fate of the speculation became so dubious that Mr. + Percy went away with his brother the Judge, to see what could be done + with it. It was a land speculation as usual, and it had gotten + complicated with a lawsuit. The men were gone seven weeks. Before they + got back Roxy had paid her visit to Wilson, and was satisfied. Wilson took + the finger-prints, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_051" id="Page_051">51</a></span> + labeled them with the names and with the date—October + the first—put them carefully away and continued his chat with Roxy, + who seemed very anxious that he should admire the great advance in flesh + and beauty which the babies had made since he took their finger-prints a + month before. He complimented their improvement to her contentment; and as + they were without any disguise of jam or other stain, she trembled all the + while and was miserably frightened lest at any moment he— + </p> + <p> + But he didn’t. He discovered nothing; and she went home jubilant, + and dropped all concern about the matter permanently out of her mind. + </p> + <hr /> + + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_052" id="Page_052">52</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER IV.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">The Ways of the Changelings.</p> + + <p class="pullquote"> + Adam and Eve had many advantages, but the principal one + was, that they escaped teething.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + There is this trouble about special providences—namely, + there is so often a doubt as to which party was intended to + be the beneficiary. In the case of the children, the bears + and the prophet, the bears got more real satisfaction out of + the episode than the prophet did, because they got the + children.<i>—Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">This</span> history must henceforth accommodate + itself to the change which Roxana has consummated, and call the real + heir “Chambers” and the usurping little slave + “Thomas à Becket”—shortening this latter name to + “Tom,” for daily use, as the people about him did. + </p> + <p> + “Tom” was a bad baby, from the very beginning of his + usurpation. He would cry for nothing; he would burst into storms of + devilish temper without notice, and let go + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_053" id="Page_053">53</a></span> + scream after scream and squall after squall, then climax + the thing with “holding his breath”—that frightful + specialty of the teething nursling, in the throes of which the creature + exhausts its lungs, then is convulsed with noiseless squirmings and + twistings and kickings in the effort to get its breath, while the lips + turn blue and the mouth stands wide and rigid, offering for inspection + one wee tooth set in the lower rim of a hoop of red gums; and when the + appalling stillness has endured until one is sure the lost breath will + never return, a nurse comes flying, and dashes water in the child’s + face, and—presto! the lungs fill, and instantly discharge a shriek, + or a yell, or a howl which bursts the listening ear and surprises the + owner of it into saying words which would not go well with a halo if he + had one. The baby Tom would claw anybody who came within reach of his + nails, and pound anybody he could reach with his rattle. He would scream + for water until he got it, and then throw cup and all on the floor and + scream for more. He was indulged in all his caprices, howsoever + troublesome and exasperating they + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_054" id="Page_054">54</a></span> + might be; he was allowed to eat anything he wanted, particularly things + that would give him the stomach-ache. + </p> + <p> + When he got to be old enough to begin to toddle about and say broken words + and get an idea of what his hands were for, he was a more consummate pest + than ever. Roxy got no rest while he was awake. He would call for anything + and everything he saw, simply saying “Awnt it!” (want it), + which was a command. When it was brought, he said in a frenzy, and + motioning it away with his hands, “Don’t awnt it! + don’t awnt it!” and the moment it was gone + he set up frantic yells of “Awnt it! awnt it! awnt it!” + and Roxy had to give wings to her heels to get that thing back to him + again before he could get time to carry out his intention of going into + convulsions about it. + </p> + <p> + What he preferred above all other things was the tongs. This was because + his “father” had forbidden him to have them lest he break + windows and furniture with them. The moment Roxy’s back was turned + he would toddle to the presence of the tongs and say + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_055" id="Page_055">55</a></span> + “Like it!” and cock his eye to one side to see if Roxy was + observing; then, “Awnt it!” and cock his eye again; then, + “Hab it!” with another furtive glance; and finally, + “Take it!”—and the prize was his. The next moment + the heavy implement was raised aloft; the next, there was a + crash and a squall, and the cat was off on three legs to meet + an engagement; Roxy would arrive just as the lamp or a window + went to irremediable smash. + </p> + <p> + Tom got all the petting, Chambers got none. Tom got all the delicacies, + Chambers got mush and milk, and clabber without sugar. In consequence Tom + was a sickly child and Chambers wasn’t. Tom was + “fractious,” as Roxy called it, and overbearing; + Chambers was meek and docile. + </p> + <p> + With all her splendid common sense and practical every-day ability, Roxy + was a doting fool of a mother. She was this toward her child—and she + was also more than this: by the fiction created by herself, he was become + her master; the necessity of recognizing this relation outwardly and of + perfecting + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_056" id="Page_056">56</a></span> + herself in the forms required to express the recognition, had moved her + to such diligence and faithfulness in practicing these forms that this + exercise soon concreted itself into habit; it became automatic and + unconscious; then a natural result followed: deceptions intended solely + for others gradually grew practically into self-deceptions as well; the + mock reverence became real reverence, the mock obsequiousness real + obsequiousness, the mock homage real homage; the little counterfeit rift + of separation between imitation-slave and imitation-master widened and + widened, and became an abyss, and a very real one—and on one side + of it stood Roxy, the dupe of her own deceptions, and on the other stood + her child, no longer a usurper to her, but her accepted and recognized + master. He was her darling, her master, and her deity all in one, and in + her worship of him she forgot who she was and what he had been. + </p> + <p> + In babyhood Tom cuffed and banged and scratched Chambers unrebuked, and + Chambers early learned that between meekly bearing it and resenting it, + the advantage all lay + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_057" id="Page_057">57</a></span> + with the former policy. The few times that his persecutions had moved + him beyond control and made him fight back had cost him very dear at + headquarters; not at the hands of Roxy, for if she ever went beyond + scolding him sharply for “forgitt’n’ who his young + marster was,” she at least never extended her punishment + beyond a box on the ear. No, Percy Driscoll was the person. He told + Chambers that under no provocation whatever was he privileged to lift + his hand against his little master. Chambers overstepped the line three + times, and got three such convincing canings from the man who was his + father and didn’t know it, that he took Tom’s cruelties in + all humility after that, and made no more experiments. + </p> + <p> + Outside of the house the two boys were together all through their boyhood. + Chambers was strong beyond his years, and a good fighter; strong because + he was coarsely fed and hard worked about the house, and a good fighter + because Tom furnished him plenty of practice—on white boys whom he + hated and was afraid of. Chambers was his constant + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_058" id="Page_058">58</a></span> + body-guard, to and from school; he was present on the playground at recess + to protect his charge. He fought himself into such a formidable + reputation, by and by, that Tom could have changed clothes with him, and + “ridden in peace,” like Sir Kay in Launcelot’s armor. + </p> + <p> + He was good at games of skill, too. Tom staked him with marbles to play + “keeps” with, and then took all the winnings away from him. + In the winter season Chambers was on hand, in Tom’s worn-out + clothes, with “holy” red mittens, and “holy” + shoes, and pants “holy” at the knees and seat, to drag + a sled up the hill for Tom, warmly clad, to ride down on; but he never got + a ride himself. He built snow men and snow fortifications under + Tom’s directions. He was Tom’s patient target when Tom + wanted to do some snowballing, but the target couldn’t fire back. + Chambers carried Tom’s skates to the river and strapped them on + him, then trotted around after him on the ice, so as to be on hand when + wanted; but he wasn’t ever asked to try the skates himself. + </p> + <p> + + In summer the pet pastime of the boys of + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_059" id="Page_059">59</a></span> + Dawson’s Landing was to + steal apples, peaches, and melons from the farmers’ + fruit-wagons,—mainly on account of the risk they ran of getting their + heads laid open with the butt of the farmer’s whip. Tom was a + distinguished adept at these thefts—by proxy. Chambers did his + stealing, and got the peach-stones, apple-cores, and melon-rinds for + his share. + </p> + <p> + Tom always made Chambers go in swimming with him, and stay by him as a + protection. When Tom had had enough, he would slip out and tie knots in + Chambers’s shirt, dip the knots in the water and make them hard to + undo, then dress himself and sit by and laugh while the naked shiverer + tugged at the stubborn knots with his teeth. + </p> + <p> + Tom did his humble comrade these various ill turns partly out of native + viciousness, and partly because he hated him for his superiorities of + physique and pluck, and for his manifold cleverness. Tom couldn’t + dive, for it gave him splitting headaches. Chambers could dive without + inconvenience, and was fond of doing it. He excited so much admiration, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_060" id="Page_060">60</a></span> + one day, among a crowd of white boys, by throwing back somersaults from + the stern of a canoe, that it wearied Tom’s spirit, and at last he + shoved the canoe underneath Chambers while he was in the air—so he + came down on his head in the canoe-bottom; and while he lay unconscious, + several of Tom’s ancient adversaries saw that their long-desired + opportunity was come, and they gave the false heir such a drubbing that + with Chambers’s best help he was hardly able to drag himself home + afterward. + </p> + <p> + When the boys were fifteen and upward, Tom was “showing + off” in the river one day, when he was taken with a cramp, and + shouted for help. It was a common trick with the boys—particularly + if a stranger was present—to pretend a cramp and howl for help; + then when the stranger came tearing hand over hand to the rescue, the + howler would go on struggling and howling till he was close at hand, + then replace the howl with a sarcastic smile and swim blandly away, + while the town boys assailed the dupe with a volley of jeers and laughter. + Tom had never tried this joke as + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_061" id="Page_061">61</a></span> + yet, but was supposed to be trying it + now, so the boys held warily back; but Chambers believed his master was + in earnest, therefore he swam out, and arrived in time, unfortunately, + and saved his life. + </p> + <p> + This was the last feather. Tom had managed to endure everything else, but + to have to remain publicly and permanently under such an obligation as + this to a nigger, and to this nigger of all niggers—this was too + much. He heaped insults upon Chambers for “pretending” + to think he was in earnest in calling for help, and said that anybody + but a block-headed nigger would have known he was funning and left him + alone. + </p> + <p> + Tom’s enemies were in strong force here, so they came out with their + opinions quite freely. They laughed at him, and called him coward, liar, + sneak, and other sorts of pet names, and told him they meant to call + Chambers + by a new name after this, and make it common in the + town—“Tom Driscoll’s niggerpappy,”—to + signify that he had had a second birth into this life, and that + Chambers was the author of his new being. Tom grew frantic under + these taunts, and shouted— + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_062" id="Page_062">62</a></span> + “Knock their heads off, Chambers! knock their heads off! What + do you stand there with your hands in your pockets for?” + </p> + <p> + Chambers expostulated, and said, “But, Marse Tom, dey’s + too many of ’em—dey’s—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Marse Tom, don’t make me! Dey’s so many of + ’em dat—” + </p> + <p> + Tom sprang at him and drove his pocket-knife into him two or three times + before the boys could snatch him away and give the wounded lad a chance to + escape. He was considerably hurt, but not seriously. If the blade had been + a little longer his career would have ended there. + </p> + <p> + Tom had long ago taught Roxy “her place.” It had been + many a day now since she had ventured a caress or a fondling epithet + in his quarter. Such things, from a “nigger,” were + repulsive to him, and she had been warned to keep her distance and + remember who she was. She saw her darling gradually cease from being + her son, she saw <i>that</i> detail perish utterly; all that was + left was master—master, pure and simple, and it was not a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_063" id="Page_063">63</a></span> + gentle mastership, either. She saw herself sink from the sublime height + of motherhood to the somber depths of unmodified slavery. The abyss of + separation between her and her boy was complete. She was merely his + chattel, now, his convenience, his dog, his cringing and helpless slave, + the humble and unresisting victim of his capricious temper and vicious + nature. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she could not go to sleep, even when worn out with fatigue, + because her rage boiled so high over the day’s experiences with + her boy. She would mumble and mutter to herself— + </p> + <p> + “He struck me, en I warn’t no way to blame—struck + me in de face, right before folks. En he’s al’ays + callin’ me nigger-wench, en hussy, en all dem mean names, + when I’s doin’ de very bes’ I kin. Oh, Lord, + I done so much for him—I lift’ him away up to what + he is—en dis is what I git for it.” + </p> + <p> + Sometimes when some outrage of peculiar offensiveness stung her to the + heart, she would plan schemes of vengeance and revel in the fancied + spectacle of his exposure to the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_064" id="Page_064">64</a></span> + world as an imposter and a slave; but in the midst of these joys fear + would strike her: she had made him too strong; she could prove nothing, + and—heavens, she might get sold down the river for her pains! + So her schemes always went for nothing, and she laid them aside in + impotent rage against the fates, and against herself for playing the + fool on that fatal September day in not providing herself with a + witness for use in the day when such a thing might be needed for the + appeasing of her vengeance-hungry heart. + </p> + <p> + And yet the moment Tom happened to be good to her, and kind,—and + this occurred every now and then,—all her sore places were healed, + and she was happy; happy and proud, for this was her son, her nigger son, + lording it among the whites and securely avenging their crimes against her + race. + </p> + <p> + There were two grand funerals in Dawson’s Landing that + fall—the fall of 1845. One was that of Colonel Cecil Burleigh + Essex, the other that of Percy Driscoll. + </p> + <p> + On his death-bed Driscoll set Roxy free and delivered his idolized + ostensible son + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_065" id="Page_065">65</a></span> + solemnly into the keeping of his brother, the Judge and + his wife. Those childless people were glad to get him. Childless people + are not difficult to please. + </p> + <p> + Judge Driscoll had gone privately to his brother, a month before, and + bought Chambers. He had heard that Tom had been trying to get his father + to sell the boy down the river, and he wanted to prevent the + scandal—for public sentiment did not approve of that way of + treating family servants for light cause or for no cause. + </p> + <p> + Percy Driscoll had worn himself out in trying to save his great + speculative landed estate, and had died without succeeding. He was hardly + in his grave before the boom collapsed and left his hitherto envied young + devil of an heir a pauper. But that was nothing; his uncle told him he + should be his heir and have all his fortune when he died; so Tom was + comforted. + </p> + <p> + Roxy had no home, now; so she resolved to go around and say good-by to her + friends and then clear out and see the world—that is to say, she + would go chambermaiding on a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_066" id="Page_066">66</a></span> + steamboat, the darling ambition of her race and sex. + </p> + <p> + Her last call was on the black giant, Jasper. She found him chopping + Pudd’nhead Wilson’s winter provision of wood. + </p> + <p> + Wilson was chatting with him when Roxy arrived. He asked her how she could + bear to go off chambermaiding and leave her boys; and chaffingly offered + to copy off a series of their finger-prints, reaching up to their twelfth + year, for her to remember them by; but she sobered in a moment, wondering + if he suspected anything; then she said she believed she didn’t + want them. Wilson said to himself, “The drop of black blood in + her is superstitious; she thinks there’s some devilry, some + witch-business about my glass mystery somewhere; she used to come here + with an old horseshoe in her hand; it could have been an accident, but I + doubt it.” + </p> + <hr /> + + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_067" id="Page_067">67</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER V.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">The Twins Thrill Dawson’s Landing.</p> + + <p class="pullquote"> + Training is everything. The peach was once a bitter almond; + cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college + education.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Remark of Dr. Baldwin’s, concerning upstarts: + We don’t care to eat toadstools that think they + are truffles.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">Mrs. York Driscoll</span> enjoyed two years of bliss + with that prize, Tom—bliss that was troubled a little at times, it + is true, but bliss nevertheless; then she died, and her husband and his + childless sister, Mrs. Pratt, continued the bliss-business at the old + stand. Tom was petted and indulged and spoiled to his entire + content—or nearly that. This went on till he was nineteen, then he + was sent to Yale. He went handsomely equipped with + “conditions,” but otherwise he was not an object of + distinction there. He remained at Yale two years, and then threw up the + struggle. He came + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_068" id="Page_068">68</a></span> + home with his manners a good deal improved; he had lost his surliness and + brusqueness, and was rather pleasantly soft and smooth, now; he was + furtively, and sometimes openly, ironical of speech, and given to + gently touching people on the raw, but he did it with a good-natured + semiconscious air that carried it off safely, and kept him from getting + into trouble. He was as indolent as ever and showed no very strenuous + desire to hunt up an occupation. People argued from this that he preferred + to be supported by his uncle until his uncle’s shoes should become + vacant. He brought back one or two new habits with him, one of which he + rather openly practised—tippling—but concealed another which + was gambling. It would not do to gamble where his uncle could hear of it; + he knew that quite well. + </p> + <p> + Tom’s Eastern polish was not popular among the young people. They + could have endured it, perhaps, if Tom had stopped there; but he wore + gloves, and that they couldn’t stand, and wouldn’t; so he was + mainly without society. He brought home with him a suit of clothes of such + exquisite style and cut + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_069" id="Page_069">69</a></span> + and fashion,—Eastern fashion, city fashion,—that it filled + everybody with anguish and was regarded as a peculiarly wanton affront. + He enjoyed the feeling which he was exciting, and paraded the town + serene and happy all day; but the young fellows set a tailor to work + that night, and when Tom started out on his parade next morning he found + the old deformed negro bell-ringer straddling along in his wake tricked + out in a flamboyant curtain-calico exaggeration of his finery, and + imitating his fancy Eastern graces as well as he could. + </p> + <p> + Tom surrendered, and after that clothed himself in the local fashion. But + the dull country town was tiresome to him, since his acquaintanceship with + livelier regions, and it grew daily more and more so. He began to make + little trips to St. Louis for refreshment. There he found companionship to + suit him, and pleasures to his taste, along with more freedom, in some + particulars, than he could have at home. So, during the next two years + his visits to the city grew in frequency and his tarryings there grew + steadily longer in duration. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_070" id="Page_070">70</a></span> + He was getting into deep waters. He was taking chances, privately, which + might get him into trouble some day—in fact, <i>did</i>. + </p> + <p> + Judge Driscoll had retired from the bench and from all business activities + in 1850, and had now been comfortably idle three years. He was president + of the Free-thinkers’ Society, and Pudd’nhead Wilson was the + other member. The society’s weekly discussions were now the old + lawyer’s main interest in life. Pudd’nhead was still toiling + in obscurity at the bottom of the ladder, under the blight of that unlucky + remark which he had let fall twenty-three years before about the dog. + </p> + <p> + Judge Driscoll was his friend, and claimed that he had a mind above the + average, but that was regarded as one of the Judge’s whims, and it + failed to modify the public opinion. Or rather, that was one of the + reasons why it failed, but there was another and better one. If the Judge + had stopped with bare assertion, it would have had a good deal of effect; + but he made the mistake of trying to prove his position. For some years + Wilson had been privately at work on a whimsical almanac, for + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_071" id="Page_071">71</a></span> + his amusement—a calendar, with a little dab of ostensible + philosophy, usually in ironical form, appended to each date; and the Judge + thought that these quips and fancies of Wilson’s were neatly turned + and cute; so he carried a handful of them around, one day, and read them + to some of the chief citizens. But irony was not for those people; their + mental vision was not focussed for it. They read those playful trifles in + the solidest earnest, and decided without hesitancy that if there had ever + been any doubt that Dave Wilson was a pudd’nhead—which there + hadn’t—this revelation removed that doubt for good and all. + That is just the way in this world; an enemy can partly ruin a man, but + it takes a good-natured injudicious friend to complete the thing and + make it perfect. After this the Judge felt tenderer than ever toward + Wilson, and surer than ever that his calendar had merit. + </p> + <p> + Judge Driscoll could be a free-thinker and still hold his place in + society because he was the person of most consequence in the community, + and therefore could venture to go + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_072" id="Page_072">72</a></span> + his own way and follow out his own notions. The other member + of his pet organization was allowed the like liberty + because he was a cipher in the estimation of the public, and nobody + attached any importance to what he thought or did. He was liked, he was + welcome enough all around, but he simply didn’t count for anything. + </p> + <p> + The widow Cooper—affectionately called “aunt + Patsy” by everybody—lived in a snug and comely cottage with + her daughter Rowena, who was nineteen, romantic, amiable, and very + pretty, but otherwise of no consequence. Rowena had a couple of young + brothers—also of no consequence. + </p> + <p> + The widow had a large spare room which she let to a lodger, with board, + when she could find one, but this room had been empty for a year now, to + her sorrow. Her income was only sufficient for the family support, and she + needed the lodging-money for trifling luxuries. But now, at last, on a + flaming June day, she found herself happy; her tedious wait was ended; her + year-worn advertisement had been answered; and not by a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_073" id="Page_073">73</a></span> + village applicant, oh, no!—this letter was from away off yonder in + the dim great world to the North: it was from St. Louis. She sat on her + porch gazing out with unseeing eyes upon the shining reaches of the + mighty Mississippi, her thoughts steeped in her good fortune. Indeed, it + was specially good fortune, for she was to have two lodgers instead of + one. + </p> + <p> + She had read the letter to the family, and Rowena had danced away to see + to the cleaning and airing of the room by the slave woman Nancy, and the + boys had rushed abroad in the town to spread the great news, for it was + matter of public interest, and the public would wonder and not be pleased + if not informed. Presently Rowena returned, all ablush with joyous + excitement, and begged for a re-reading of the letter. It was framed thus: + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + <span class="smcap">Honored Madam:</span> My brother and I have seen your + advertisement, by chance, and beg leave to take the room you offer. We + are twenty-four years of age and twins. We are Italians by birth, but have + lived long in the various countries of Europe, and several years in the + United States. Our names are Luigi and Angelo Capello. You desire but one + guest; but dear Madam, if you will + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_074" id="Page_074">74</a></span> + allow us to pay for two, we will not incommode you. We shall be down + Thursday. + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + “Italians! How romantic! Just think, ma—there’s + never been one in this town, and everybody will be dying to see + them, and they’re all <i>ours</i>! Think of + that!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I reckon they’ll make a grand stir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed they will. The whole town will be on its head! + Think—they’ve been in Europe and everywhere! + There’s never been a traveler in this town before. + Ma, I shouldn’t wonder if they’ve seen kings!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, a body can’t tell, but they’ll make stir + enough, without that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s of course. Luigi—Angelo. + They’re lovely names; and so grand and foreign—not like + Jones and Robinson and such. Thursday they are coming, and this is + only Tuesday; it’s a cruel long time to wait. Here comes Judge + Driscoll in at the gate. He’s heard about it. I’ll go and + open the door.” + </p> + <p> + + The Judge was full of congratulations and curiosity. The letter was read + and discussed. Soon Justice Robinson arrived with more + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_075" id="Page_075">75</a></span> + congratulations, and there was a new reading and a new discussion. This + was the beginning. Neighbor after neighbor, of both sexes, followed, and + the procession drifted in and out all day and evening and all Wednesday + and Thursday. The letter was read and re-read until it was nearly worn + out; everybody admired its courtly and gracious tone, and smooth and + practised style, everybody was sympathetic and excited, and the Coopers + were steeped in happiness all the while. + </p> + <p> + The boats were very uncertain in low water, in these primitive times. This + time the Thursday boat had not arrived at ten at night—so the people + had waited at the landing all day for nothing; they were driven to their + homes by a heavy storm without having had a view of the illustrious + foreigners. + </p> + <p> + Eleven o’clock came; and the Cooper house was the only one in the + town that still had lights burning. The rain and thunder were booming + yet, and the anxious family were still waiting, still hoping. At last + there was a knock at the door and the family jumped to open it. Two + negro men entered, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_076" id="Page_076">76</a></span> + each carrying a trunk, and proceeded up-stairs toward the guest-room. + Then entered the twins—the handsomest, the best dressed, the most + distinguished-looking pair of young fellows the West had ever seen. + One was a little fairer than the other, but otherwise they were exact + duplicates. + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_077" id="Page_077">77</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER VI.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Swimming in Glory.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even + the undertaker will be sorry.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Habit is habit, and not to be flung out of the window by any man, + but coaxed down-stairs a step at a time.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">At</span> breakfast in the morning the twins’ + charm of manner and easy and polished bearing made speedy conquest of the + family’s good graces. + All constraint and formality quickly disappeared, and the friendliest + feeling succeeded. Aunt Patsy called them by their Christian names almost + from the beginning. She was full of the keenest curiosity about them, and + showed it; they responded by talking about themselves, which pleased her + greatly. It presently appeared that in their early youth they had known + poverty and hardship. As the talk wandered along + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_078" id="Page_078">78</a></span> + the old lady watched for the right place to drop in a question or two + concerning that matter, and when she found it she said to the blond + twin who was now doing the biographies in his turn while the brunette + one rested— + </p> + <p> + “If it ain’t asking what I ought not to ask, Mr. Angelo, how + did you come to be so friendless and in such trouble when you were + little? Do you mind telling? But don’t if you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we don’t mind it at all, madam; in our case it was + merely misfortune, and nobody’s fault. Our parents were well to do, + there in Italy, and we were their only child. We were of the old + Florentine nobility”—Rowena’s heart gave a great bound, + her nostrils expanded, and a fine light played in her + eyes—“and when the war broke out my father was on the + losing side and had to fly for his life. His estates were confiscated, his + personal property seized, and there we were, in Germany, strangers, + friendless, and in fact paupers. My brother and I were ten years old, and + well educated for that age, very studious, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_079" id="Page_079">79</a></span> + very fond of our books, and + well grounded in the German, French, Spanish, and English languages. Also, + we were marvelous musical prodigies—if you will allow me to say it, + it being only the truth. + </p> + <p> + “Our father survived his misfortunes only a month, our mother + soon followed him, and we were alone in the world. Our parents could + have made themselves comfortable by exhibiting us as a show, and they + had many and large offers; but the thought revolted their pride, and + they said they would starve and die first. But what they wouldn’t + consent to do we had to do without the formality of consent. We were + seized for the debts occasioned by their illness and their funerals, + and placed among the attractions of a cheap museum in Berlin to earn + the liquidation money. It took us two years to get out of that slavery. + We traveled all about Germany receiving no wages, and not even our keep. + We had to be exhibited for nothing, and beg our bread. + </p> + <p> + “Well, madam, the rest is not of much consequence. When we escaped + from that + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_080" id="Page_080">80</a></span> + slavery at twelve years of age, we were in some respects men. + Experience had taught us some valuable things; among others, how to take + care of ourselves, how to avoid and defeat sharks and sharpers, and how to + conduct our own business for our own profit and without other + people’s help. We traveled everywhere—years and + years—picking up smatterings of strange tongues, familiarizing + ourselves with strange sights and strange customs, accumulating an + education of a wide and varied and curious sort. It was a pleasant life. + We went to Venice—to London, Paris, Russia, India, China, + Japan—” + </p> + <p> + At this point Nancy the slave woman thrust her head in at the door and + exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Ole Missus, de house is plum’ jam full o’ people, en + dey’s jes a-spi’lin’ to see de gen’lmen!” + She indicated the twins with a nod of her head, and tucked it back out + of sight again. + </p> + <p> + It was a proud occasion for the widow, and she promised herself high + satisfaction in showing off her fine foreign birds before her neighbors + and friends—simple folk who had hardly + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_081" id="Page_081">81</a></span> + ever seen a foreigner of any kind, and never one of any distinction or + style. Yet her feeling was moderate indeed when contrasted with + Rowena’s. Rowena was in the clouds, she walked on air; this was to + be the greatest day, the most romantic episode, in the colorless history + of that dull country town. She was to be familiarly near the source of + its glory and feel the full flood of it pour over her and about her; the + other girls could only gaze and envy, not partake. + </p> + <p> + The widow was ready, Rowena was ready, so also were the foreigners. + </p> + <p> + The party moved along the hall, the twins in advance, and entered the open + parlor door, whence issued a low hum of conversation. The twins took a + position near the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: add comma after door."> + door,</ins> the widow stood at Luigi’s side, Rowena + stood beside Angelo, and the march-past and the introductions began. The + widow was all smiles and contentment. She received the procession and + passed it on to Rowena. + </p> + <p> + “Good mornin’, Sister Cooper”—hand-shake. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Brother Higgins—Count + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_082" id="Page_082">82</a></span> + Luigi Capello, Mr. Higgins”—hand-shake, followed by a + devouring stare and “I’m glad to see ye,” on the + part of Higgins, and a courteous inclination of the head and a + pleasant “Most happy!” on the part of Count Luigi. + </p> + <p> + “Good mornin’, Roweny”—hand-shake. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Mr. Higgins—present you to Count Angelo + Capello.” Hand-shake, admiring stare, “Glad to see + ye,”—courteous nod, smily “Most happy!” + and Higgins passes on. + </p> + <p> + None of these visitors was at ease, but, being honest people, they + didn’t pretend to be. None of them had ever seen a person + bearing a title of nobility before, and none had been expecting to + see one now, consequently the title came upon them as a kind of + pile-driving surprise and caught them unprepared. A few tried to + rise to the emergency, and got out an awkward “My + lord,” or “Your lordship,” or something of that sort, + but the great majority were overwhelmed by the unaccustomed word + and its dim and awful associations with gilded courts and stately + ceremony and anointed kingship, so they only + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_083" id="Page_083">83</a></span> + fumbled through the hand-shake and passed on, speechless. Now and then, + as happens at all receptions everywhere, a more than ordinary friendly + soul blocked the procession and kept it waiting while he inquired how + the brothers liked the village, and how long they were going to stay, + and if their families were well, and dragged in the weather, and hoped + it would get cooler soon, and all that sort of thing, so as to be able + to say, when they got home, “I had quite a long talk with + them”; but nobody did or said anything of a regrettable kind, + and so the great affair went through to the end in a creditable and + satisfactory fashion. + </p> + <p> + General conversation followed, and the twins drifted about from group to + group, talking easily and fluently and winning approval, compelling + admiration and achieving favor from all. The widow followed their + conquering march with a proud eye, and every now and then Rowena said to + herself with deep satisfaction, “And to think they are + ours—all ours!” + </p> + <p> + There were no idle moments for mother or + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_084" id="Page_084">84</a></span> + daughter. Eager inquiries concerning the twins were pouring into their + enchanted ears all the time; each was the constant center of a group of + breathless listeners; each recognized that she knew now for the first + time the real meaning of that great word Glory, and perceived the + stupendous value of it, and understood why men in all ages had been + willing to throw away meaner happinesses, treasure, life itself, to get a + taste of its sublime and supreme joy. Napoleon and all his kind stood + accounted for—and justified. + </p> + <p> + When Rowena had at last done all her duty by the people in the parlor, she + went up-stairs to satisfy the longings of an overflow-meeting there, for + the parlor was not big enough to hold all the comers. Again she was + besieged by eager questioners and again she swam in sunset seas of glory. + When the forenoon was nearly gone, she recognized with a pang that this + most splendid episode of her life was almost over, that nothing could + prolong it, that nothing quite its equal could ever fall to her fortune + again. But never mind, it was sufficient unto itself, the grand + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_085" id="Page_085">85</a></span> + occasion had moved on an ascending scale from the start, and was a noble + and memorable success. If the twins could but do some crowning act, now, + to climax it, something unusual, something startling, something to + concentrate upon themselves the company’s loftiest admiration, + something in the nature of an electric surprise— + </p> + <p> + Here a prodigious slam-banging broke out below, and everybody rushed down + to see. It was the twins knocking out a classic four-handed piece on the + piano, in great style. Rowena was satisfied—satisfied down to the + bottom of her heart. + </p> + <p> + The young strangers were kept long at the piano. The villagers were + astonished and enchanted with the magnificence of their performance, and + could not bear to have them stop. All the music that they had ever heard + before seemed spiritless prentice-work and barren of grace or charm when + compared with these intoxicating floods of melodious sound. They realized + that for once in their lives they were hearing masters. + </p> + <hr /> + + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_086" id="Page_086">86</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER VII.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">The Unknown Nymph.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + One of the most striking differences between a cat and a + lie is that a cat has only nine lives.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">The</span> company broke up reluctantly, and drifted + toward their several homes, chatting with vivacity, and all agreeing + that it would be many a long day before Dawson’s Landing would + see the equal of this one again. The twins had accepted several + invitations while the reception was in progress, and had also + volunteered to play some duets at an amateur entertainment for the + benefit of a local charity. Society was eager to receive them to its + bosom. Judge Driscoll had the good fortune to secure them for an + immediate drive, and to be the first to display them in public. They + entered his buggy with him, and were paraded down the main street, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_087" id="Page_087">87</a></span> + everybody flocking to the windows and sidewalks to see. + </p> + <p> + The Judge showed the strangers the new graveyard, and the jail, and where + the richest man lived, and the Freemasons’ hall, and the + Methodist church, and the Presbyterian church, and where the Baptist + church was going to be when they got some money to build it with, and + showed them the town hall and the slaughter-house, and got out the + independent fire company in uniform and had them put out an imaginary + fire; then he let them inspect the muskets of the militia company, and + poured out an exhaustless stream of enthusiasm over all these splendors, + and seemed very well satisfied with the responses he got, for the twins + admired his admiration, and paid him back the best they could, though + they could have done better if some fifteen or sixteen hundred thousand + previous experiences of this sort in various countries had not already + rubbed off a considerable part of the novelty of it. + </p> + <p> + The Judge laid himself out hospitably to make them have a good time, and + if there + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_088" id="Page_088">88</a></span> + was a defect anywhere it was not his + <ins title="Place period after fault.">fault.</ins> + He told them a good + many humorous anecdotes, and always forgot the nub, but they were always + able to furnish it, for these yarns were of a pretty early vintage, and + they had had many a rejuvenating pull at them before. And he told them all + about his several dignities, and how he had held this and that and the + other place of honor or profit, and had once been to the legislature, and + was now president of the Society of Free-thinkers. He said the society had + been in existence four + years, and already had two members, and was firmly established. He would + call for the brothers in the evening if they would like to attend a + meeting of it. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly he called for them, and on the way he told them all about + Pudd’nhead Wilson, in order that they might get a favorable + impression of him in advance and be prepared to like him. This scheme + succeeded—the favorable impression was achieved. Later it was + confirmed and solidified when Wilson proposed that out of courtesy to + the strangers the usual topics be put aside and the hour be + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_089" id="Page_089">89</a></span> + devoted to conversation upon ordinary subjects and the cultivation of + friendly relations and good-fellowship,—a proposition which was + put to vote and carried. + </p> + <p> + The hour passed quickly away in lively talk, and when it was ended the + lonesome and neglected Wilson was richer by two friends than he had been + when it began. He invited the twins to look in at his lodgings, presently, + after disposing of an intervening engagement, and they accepted with + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Toward the middle of the evening they found themselves on the road to his + house. Pudd’nhead was at home waiting for them and putting in his + time puzzling over a thing which had come under his notice that morning. + The matter was this: He happened to be up very early—at dawn, in + fact; and he crossed the hall which divided his cottage through the + center, and entered a room to get something there. The window of the + room had no curtains, for that side of the house had long been unoccupied, + and through this window he caught sight of something which surprised and + interested him. It was a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_090" id="Page_090">90</a></span> + young woman—a young woman where properly + no young woman belonged; for she was in Judge Driscoll’s house, and + in the bedroom over the Judge’s private study or sitting-room. + This was young Tom Driscoll’s bedroom. He and the Judge, the + Judge’s widowed sister Mrs. Pratt and three negro servants were + the only people who belonged in the house. Who, then, might this young + lady be? The two houses were separated by an ordinary yard, with a low + fence running back through its middle from the street in front to the + lane in the rear. The distance was not great, and Wilson was able to see + the girl very well, the window-shades of the room she was in being up, + and the window also. The girl had on a neat and trim summer dress, + patterned in broad stripes of pink and white, and her bonnet was equipped + with a pink veil. She was practising steps, gaits and attitudes, + apparently; she was doing the thing gracefully, and was very much absorbed + in her work. Who could she be, and how came she to be in + young Tom Driscoll’s room? + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_091" id="Page_091">91</a></span> + Wilson had quickly chosen a position from which he could watch the girl + without running much risk of being seen by her, and he remained there + hoping she would raise her veil and betray her face. But she disappointed + him. After a matter of twenty minutes she disappeared, and although he + stayed at his post half an hour longer, she came no more. + </p> + <p> + Toward noon he dropped in at the Judge’s and talked with Mrs. + Pratt about the great event of the day, the levee of the distinguished + foreigners at Aunt Patsy Cooper’s. He asked after her nephew Tom, + and she said he was on his way home, and that she was expecting him to + arrive a little before night; and added that she and the Judge were + gratified to gather from his letters that he was conducting himself + very nicely and creditably—at which Wilson winked to himself + privately. Wilson did not ask if there was a newcomer in the house, + but he asked questions that would have brought light-throwing answers + as to that matter if Mrs. Pratt had had any light to throw; so he went + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_092" id="Page_092">92</a></span> + away satisfied that he knew of things that were going + on in her house of which she herself was not aware. + </p> + <p> + He was now waiting for the twins, and still puzzling over the problem of + who that girl might be, and how she happened to be in that young + fellow’s room at daybreak in the morning. + </p> + <hr /> + + + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_093" id="Page_093">93</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Marse Tom Tramples His Chance.</p> + + <p class="pullquote"> + The holy passion of Friendship is of so sweet and steady + and loyal and enduring a nature that it will last through a + whole lifetime, if not asked to lend money.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Consider well the proportions of things. It is better to be + a young June-bug than an old bird of paradise.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">It</span> is necessary now, to hunt up Roxy. + </p> + <p> + At the time she was set free and went away chambermaiding, she was + thirty-five. She got a berth as second chambermaid on a Cincinnati boat + in the New Orleans trade, the <i>Grand Mogul</i>. A couple of trips made + her wonted and easy-going at the work, and infatuated her with the stir + and adventure and independence of steamboat life. Then she was promoted + and became head chambermaid. She was a favorite with the officers, and + exceedingly proud of their joking and friendly way with her. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_094" id="Page_094">94</a></span> + During eight years she served three parts of the year on that boat, and + the winters on a Vicksburg packet. But now for two months she had had + rheumatism in her arms, and was obliged to let the wash-tub alone. So she + resigned. But she was well fixed—rich, as she would have described + it; for she had lived a steady life, and had banked four dollars every + month in New + Orleans as a provision for her old age. She said in the start + that she had “put shoes on one bar’footed nigger to tromple + on her with,” and that one mistake like that was enough; she + would be independent of the human race thenceforth forevermore if hard + work and economy could accomplish it. When the boat touched the levee at + New Orleans she bade good-by to her comrades on the <i>Grand Mogul</i> + and moved her kit ashore. + </p> + <p> + But she was back in a hour. The bank had gone to smash and carried her + four hundred dollars with it. She was a pauper, and homeless. Also disabled + bodily, at least for the present. The officers were full of sympathy for + her in her trouble, and made up a little purse for her. She resolved to go + to her birthplace; + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_095" id="Page_095">95</a></span> + she had friends there among the negroes, and the + unfortunate always help the unfortunate, she was well aware of that; those + lowly comrades of her youth would not let her starve. + </p> + <p> + She took the little local packet at Cairo, and now she was on the + home-stretch. Time had worn away her bitterness against her son, and she + was able to think of him with serenity. She put the vile side of him out + of her mind, and dwelt only on recollections of his occasional acts of + kindness to her. She gilded and otherwise decorated these, and made them + very pleasant to contemplate. She began to long to see him. She would go + and fawn upon him, slave-like—for this would have to be her attitude, + of course—and maybe she would find that time had modified him, and + that he would be glad to see his long-forgotten old nurse and treat her + gently. That would be lovely; that would make her forget her woes and her + poverty. + </p> + <p> + Her poverty! That thought inspired her to add another castle to her dream: + maybe he would give her a trifle now and then—maybe + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_096" id="Page_096">96</a></span> + a dollar, once a month, say; any little thing like that would help, oh, + ever so much. + </p> + <p> + By the time she reached Dawson’s Landing she was her old self + again; her blues were gone, she was in high feather. She would get along, + surely; there were many kitchens where the servants would share their + meals with her, and also steal sugar and apples and other dainties for + her to carry home—or give her a chance to pilfer them herself, + which would answer just as well. And there was the church. She was a + more rabid and devoted Methodist than ever, and her piety was no sham, + but was strong and sincere. Yes, with plenty of creature comforts and + her old place in the amen-corner in her possession again, she would be + perfectly happy and at peace thenceforward to the end. + </p> + <p> + She went to Judge Driscoll’s kitchen first of all. She was received + there in great form and with vast enthusiasm. Her wonderful travels, and + the strange countries she had seen and the adventures she had had, made + her a marvel, and a heroine of romance. The negroes hung enchanted upon + the great story of her experiences, interrupting her all along with eager + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_097" id="Page_097">97</a></span> + questions, with laughter, exclamations of delight and expressions of + applause; and she was obliged to confess to herself that if there was + anything better in this world + than steamboating, it was the glory to be got by telling about it. + The audience loaded her stomach with their dinners, and then stole + the pantry bare to load up her basket. + </p> + <p> + Tom was in St. Louis. The servants said he had spent the best part of his + time there during the previous two years. Roxy came every day, and had + many talks about the family and its affairs. Once she asked why Tom was + away so much. The ostensible “Chambers” said: + </p> + <p> + “De fac’ is, ole marster kin git along better when young + marster’s away den he kin when he’s in de town; yes, + en he love him better, too; so he gives him fifty dollahs a + month—” + </p> + <p> + “No, is dat so? Chambers, you’s a-jokin’, + ain’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “’Clah to goodness I ain’t, mammy; + Marse Tom tole me so his own self. But + nemmine, ’tain’t enough.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_098" id="Page_098">98</a></span> + “My lan’, what de reason ’tain’t enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’s gwine to tell you, if you gimme a chanst, + mammy. De reason it ain’t enough is ’ca’se + Marse Tom gambles.” + </p> + <p> + Roxy threw up her hands in astonishment and Chambers went on— + </p> + <p> + “Ole marster found it out, ’ca’se he had to pay two + hundred dollahs for Marse Tom’s gamblin’ debts, en + dat’s true, mammy, jes as dead certain as + you’s bawn.” + </p> + <p> + “Two—hund’d—dollahs! Why, what is you + talkin’ ’bout? Two—hund’d—dollahs. + Sakes alive, it’s ’mos’ enough to buy a + tol’able good second-hand nigger wid. En you ain’t + lyin’, honey?—you wouldn’t lie to yo’ + ole mammy?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s God’s own truth, jes as I tell you—two + hund’d dollahs—I wisht I may never stir outen my tracks + if it ain’t so. En, oh, my lan’, ole Marse was jes + a-hoppin’! he was b’ilin’ mad, I tell you! + He tuck ’n’ dissenhurrit him.” + </p> + <p> + He licked his chops with relish after that stately word. Roxy struggled + with it a moment, then gave it up and said— + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_099" id="Page_099">99</a></span> + “Dissen<i>whiched</i> him?” + </p> + <p> + “Dissenhurrit him.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s dat? What do it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Means he bu’sted de will.” + </p> + <p> + “Bu’s—ted de will! He wouldn’t + <i>ever</i> treat him so! Take it back, you mis’able + imitation nigger dat I bore in sorrow en tribbilation.” + </p> + <p> + Roxy’s pet castle—an occasional dollar from Tom’s + pocket—was tumbling to ruin before her eyes. She could not + abide such a disaster as that; she couldn’t endure the thought + of it. Her remark amused Chambers: + </p> + <p> + “Yah-yah-yah! jes listen to dat! If I’s imitation, + what is you? Bofe of us is imitation <i>white</i>—dat’s + what we is—en pow’ful good imitation, + too—yah-yah-yah!—we don’t ’mount to noth’n + as imitation <i>niggers</i>; en as for—” + </p> + <p> + “Shet up yo’ foolin’, ’fo’ I knock you side + de head, en tell me ’bout de will. Tell me ’tain’t + bu’sted—do, honey, en I’ll never forgit you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, <i>’tain’t</i>—’ca’se + dey’s a new one made, en Marse Tom’s all right ag’in. + But what is + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> + you in sich a sweat ’bout it for, mammy? + ’Tain’t none o’ your business I don’t + reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “’Tain’t none o’ my business? Whose + business is it den, I’d like to know? + Wuz I his mother tell he was fifteen years old, or wusn’t + I?—you answer me dat. En you speck I could see him turned + out po’ en ornery on de worl’ en never care + noth’n’ ’bout it? I reckon if you’d + ever be’n a mother yo’self, Valet de Chambers, you + wouldn’t talk sich foolishness as dat.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, den, ole Marse forgive him en fixed up de will + ag’in—do dat satisfy you?” + </p> + <p> + Yes, she was satisfied now, and quite happy and sentimental over it. She + kept coming daily, and at last she was told that Tom had come home. She + began to tremble with emotion, and straightway sent to beg him to let his + “po’ ole nigger mammy have jes one sight of him + en die for joy.” + </p> + <p> + Tom was stretched at his lazy ease on a sofa when Chambers brought the + petition. Time had not modified his ancient detestation of the humble + drudge and protector of his boyhood; it was still bitter and + uncompromising. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> + He sat up and bent a severe gaze upon the fair face of the + young fellow whose name he was unconsciously using and whose family rights + he was enjoying. He maintained the gaze until the victim of it had become + satisfactorily pallid with terror, then he said— + </p> + <p> + “What does the old rip want with me?” + </p> + <p> + The petition was meekly repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave you permission to come and disturb me with the + social attentions of niggers?” + </p> + <p> + Tom had risen. The other young man was trembling now, visibly. He saw what + was coming, and bent his head sideways, and put up his left arm to shield + it. Tom rained cuffs upon the head and its shield, saying no word: the + victim received each blow with a beseeching, “Please, + Marse Tom!—oh, please, Marse Tom!” Seven blows—then + Tom said, “Face the door—march!” He followed behind with + one, two, three solid kicks. The last one helped the pure-white slave + over the door-sill, and he limped away mopping his + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> + eyes with his old + ragged sleeve. Tom shouted after him, “Send her in!” + </p> + <p> + Then he flung himself panting on the sofa again, and rasped out the + remark, “He arrived just at the right moment; I was full to + the brim with bitter thinkings, and nobody to take it out of. + How refreshing it was! I feel better.” + </p> + <p> + Tom’s mother entered now, closing the door behind her, and + approached her son with all the wheedling and supplicating servilities + that fear and interest can impart to the words and attitudes of the born + slave. She stopped a yard from her boy and made two or three admiring + exclamations over his manly stature and general handsomeness, and Tom + put an arm under his head and hoisted a leg over the sofa-back in order + to look properly indifferent. + </p> + <p> + “My lan’, how you is growed, honey! ’Clah to goodness, + I wouldn’t a-knowed you, Marse Tom! ’deed I wouldn’t! + Look at me good; does you ’member old Roxy?—does you know + yo’ old nigger mammy, honey? Well, now, I kin lay down en die in + peace, ’ca’se I’se seed—” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> + “Cut it short, ——— it, cut it short! + What is it you want?” + </p> + <p> + “You heah dat? Jes the same old Marse Tom, al’ays so gay + and funnin’ wid de ole mammy. I ’uz jes as shore—” + </p> + <p> + “Cut it short, I tell you, and get along! What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + This was a bitter disappointment. Roxy had for so many days nourished and + fondled and petted her notion that Tom would be glad to see his old nurse, + and would make her proud and happy to the marrow with a cordial word or + two, that it took two rebuffs to convince her that he was not funning, and + that her beautiful dream was a fond and foolish vanity, a shabby and + pitiful mistake. She was hurt to the heart, and so ashamed that for a + moment she did not quite know what to do or how to act. Then her breast + began to heave, the tears came, and in her forlornness she was moved to + try that other dream of hers—an appeal to her boy’s charity; + and so, upon the impulse, and without reflection, she offered her + supplication: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Marse Tom, de po’ ole mammy is in + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> + sich hard luck dese days; en she’s kinder crippled in de arms en + can’t work, en if you could gimme a dollah—on’y jes one + little dol—” + </p> + <p> + Tom was on his feet so suddenly that the supplicant was startled into a + jump herself. + </p> + <p> + “A dollar!—give you a dollar! I’ve a notion to + strangle you! Is <i>that</i> your errand here? Clear out! and be + quick about it!” + </p> + <p> + Roxy backed slowly toward the door. When she was half-way she stopped, + and said mournfully: + </p> + <p> + “Marse Tom, I nussed you when you was a little baby, en I + raised you all by myself tell you was ’most a young man; en now + you is young en rich, en I is po’ en gitt’n ole, en I come + heah b’lievin’ dat you would he’p de ole mammy + ’long down de little road dat’s lef’ ’twix’ + her en de grave, en—” + </p> + <p> + Tom relished this tune less than any that had preceded it, for it began + to wake up a sort of echo in his conscience; so he interrupted and said + with decision, though without asperity, that he was not in a situation to + help her, and wasn’t going to do it. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> + “Ain’t you ever gwine to he’p me, Marse Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “No! Now go away and don’t bother me any more.” + </p> + <p> + Roxy’s head was down, in an attitude of humility. But now the + fires of her old wrongs flamed up in her breast and began to burn + fiercely. She raised her head slowly, till it was well up, and at the + same time her great frame unconsciously assumed an erect and masterful + attitude, with all the majesty and grace of her vanished youth in it. + She raised her finger and punctuated with it: + </p> + <p> + “You has said de word. You has had yo’ chance, en you has + trompled it under yo’ foot. When you git another one, you’ll + git down on yo’ knees en <i>beg</i> for it!” + </p> + <p> + A cold chill went to Tom’s heart, he didn’t know why; + for he did not reflect that such words, from such an incongruous + source, and so solemnly delivered, could not easily fail of that + effect. However, he did the natural thing: he replied with bluster + and mockery: + </p> + <p> + “<i>You’ll</i> give me a chance—<i>you</i>! + Perhaps I’d better get down on my knees now! But + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> + in case I don’t—just for argument’s + sake—what’s going to happen, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “Dis is what is gwine to happen. I’s gwine as straight to + yo’ uncle as I kin walk, en tell him every las’ + thing I knows ’bout you.” + </p> + <p> + Tom’s cheek blenched, and she saw it. Disturbing thoughts began + to chase each other through his head. “How can she know? And yet + she must have found out—she looks it. I’ve had the will back + only three months, and am already deep in debt again, and moving heaven + and earth to save myself from exposure and destruction, with a reasonably + fair show of getting the thing covered up if I’m let alone, and + now this fiend has gone and found me out somehow or other. I wonder how + much she knows? Oh, oh, oh, it’s enough to break a body’s + heart! But I’ve got to humor her—there’s + no other way.” + </p> + <p> + Then he worked up a rather sickly sample of a gay laugh and a hollow + chipperness of manner, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, Roxy dear, old friends like + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> + you and me mustn’t quarrel. Here’s your dollar—now + tell me what you know.” + </p> + <p> + He held out the wild-cat bill; she stood as she was, and made no movement. + It was her turn to scorn persuasive foolery, now, and she did not waste + it. She said, with a grim implacability in voice and manner which made Tom + almost realize that even a former slave can remember for ten minutes + insults and injuries returned for compliments and flatteries received, and + can also enjoy taking revenge for them when the opportunity offers: + </p> + <p> + “What does I know? I’ll tell you what I knows. I knows enough + to bu’st dat will to flinders—en more, mind you, + <i>more!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Tom was aghast. + </p> + <p> + “More?” he said. “What do you call more? + Where’s there any room for more?” + </p> + <p> + Roxy laughed a mocking laugh, and said scoffingly, with a toss of her + head, and her hands on her hips— + </p> + <p> + “Yes!—oh, I reckon! <i>Co’se</i> you’d like + to know—wid yo’ po’ little ole rag dollah. What you + reckon I’s gwine to tell <i>you</i> for?—you ain’t + got no money. I’s gwine to tell yo’ + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> + uncle—en I’ll do it dis minute, too—he’ll + gimme <i>five</i> dollahs for de news, en mighty glad, too.” + </p> + <p> + She swung herself around disdainfully, and started away. Tom was in a + panic. He seized her skirts, and implored her to wait. She turned and + said, loftily— + </p> + <p> + “Look-a-heah, what ’uz it I tole you?” + </p> + <p> + “You—you—I don’t remember anything. + What was it you told me?” + </p> + <p> + “I tole you dat de next time I give you a chance you’d git + down on yo’ knees en beg for it.” + </p> + <p> + Tom was stupefied for a moment. He was panting with excitement. Then he + said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Roxy, you wouldn’t require your young master to do + such a horrible thing. You can’t mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll let you know mighty quick whether I means it or not! + You call me names, en as good as spit on me when I comes here po’ + en ornery en ’umble, to praise you for bein’ growed up so + fine en handsome, en tell you how I used to nuss you en tend you en + watch you when you ’uz sick en hadn’t no mother + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> + but me in de whole worl’, en beg you to give de po’ ole + nigger a dollah for to git her som’n’ to eat, en you call + me names—<i>names</i>, dad blame you! Yassir, I gives you jes + one chance mo’, and dat’s <i>now</i>, en it las’ + on’y a half a second—you hear?” + </p> + <p> + Tom slumped to his knees and began to beg, saying— + </p> + <p> + “You see, I’m begging, and it’s honest begging, too! + Now tell me, Roxy, tell me.” + </p> + <p> + The heir of two centuries of unatoned insult and outrage looked down on + him and seemed to drink in deep draughts of satisfaction. Then she + said— + </p> + <p> + “Fine nice young white gen’l’man kneelin’ down + to a nigger-wench! I’s wanted to see dat jes once befo’ + I’s called. Now, Gabr’el, blow de hawn, I’s + ready … Git up!” + </p> + <p> + Tom did it. He said, humbly— + </p> + <p> + “Now, Roxy, don’t punish me any more. I deserved what + I’ve got, but be good and let me off with that. Don’t go + to uncle. Tell me—I’ll give you the five dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I bet you will; en you won’t stop dah, nuther. + But I ain’t gwine to tell you heah—” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> + “Good gracious, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Is you ’feared o’ de ha’nted + house?” + </p> + <p> + “N-no.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, den, you come to de ha’nted house ’bout ten + or ’leven to-night, en climb up de ladder, ’ca’se de + sta’r-steps is broke down, en you’ll find me. I’s + a-roostin’ in de ha’nted house ’ca’se I + can’t ’ford to roos’ nowhers’ else.” + She started toward the door, but stopped and said, “Gimme + de dollah bill!” He gave it to her. She examined it and said, + “H’m—like enough de bank’s + bu’sted.” She started again, but halted again. + “Has you got any whisky?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a little.” + </p> + <p> + “Fetch it!” + </p> + <p> + He ran to his room overhead and brought down a bottle which was two-thirds + full. She tilted it up and took a drink. Her eyes sparkled with + satisfaction, and she tucked the bottle under her shawl, saying, + “It’s prime. I’ll take it along.” + </p> + <p> + Tom humbly held the door for her, and she marched out as grim and erect as + a grenadier. + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER IX.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Tom Practises Sycophancy.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Why is it that we rejoice at a birth and grieve at a + funeral? It is because we are not the person + involved.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + It is easy to find fault, if one has that disposition. + There was once a man who, not being able to find any other + fault with his coal, complained that there were too many + prehistoric toads in it.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">Tom</span> flung himself on the sofa, and put his + throbbing head in his hands, and rested his elbows on his knees. He + rocked himself back and forth and moaned. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve knelt to a nigger wench!” he muttered. + “I thought I had struck the deepest depths of degradation before, + but oh, dear, it was nothing to this.… Well, there is one + consolation, such as it is—I’ve struck bottom this time; + there’s nothing lower.” + </p> + <p> + But that was a hasty conclusion. + </p> + <p> + At ten that night he climbed the ladder in + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> + the haunted house, pale, weak and wretched. Roxy was standing in the + door of one of the rooms, waiting, for she had heard him. + </p> + <p> + This was a two-story log house which had acquired the reputation a few + years before of being haunted, and that was the end of its usefulness. + Nobody would live in it afterward, or go near it by night, and most + people even gave it a wide berth in the daytime. As it had no competition, + it was called <i>the</i> haunted house. It was getting crazy and ruinous, + now, from long neglect. It stood three hundred yards beyond + Pudd’nhead Wilson’s house, with nothing between but vacancy. + It was the last house in the town at that end. + </p> + <p> + Tom followed Roxy into the room. She had a pile of clean straw in the + corner for a bed, some cheap but well-kept clothing was hanging on the + wall, there was a tin lantern freckling the floor with little spots of + light, and there were various soap-and-candle boxes scattered about, + which served for chairs. The two sat down. Roxy said— + </p> + <p> + “Now den, I’ll tell you straight off, en I’ll begin + to k’leck de money later on; I ain’t in + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> + no hurry. What does you reckon I’s gwine to tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you—you—oh, Roxy, don’t make it too hard + for me! Come right out and tell me you’ve found out somehow what + a shape I’m in on account of dissipation and foolishness.” + </p> + <p> + “Disposition en foolishness! <i>No</i> sir, dat ain’t it. + Dat jist ain’t nothin’ at all, ’longside o’ + what <i>I</i> knows.” + </p> + <p> + Tom stared at her, and said— + </p> + <p> + “Why, Roxy, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + She rose, and gloomed above him like a Fate. + </p> + <p> + “I means dis—en it’s de Lord’s truth. You + ain’t no more kin to ole Marse Driscoll den I + is!—<i>dat’s</i> what I means!” and her eyes + flamed with triumph. + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “Yassir, en <i>dat</i> ain’t all! You’s a + <i>nigger!</i>—<i>bawn</i> a nigger en a + <i>slave!</i>—en you’s a nigger en a slave dis + minute; en if I opens my mouf ole Marse Driscoll’ll sell + you down de river befo’ you is two days older den what + you is now!” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> + “It’s a thundering lie, you miserable old blatherskite!” + </p> + <p> + “It ain’t no lie, nuther. It’s jes de truth, en + nothin’ <i>but</i> de truth, so he’p me. + Yassir—you’s my <i>son</i>—” + </p> + <p> + “You devil!” + </p> + <p> + “En dat po’ boy dat you’s be’n a-kickin’ en + a-cuffin’ to-day is Percy Driscoll’s son en yo’ + <i>marster</i>—” + </p> + <p> + “You beast!” + </p> + <p> + “En <i>his</i> name’s Tom Driscoll, en <i>yo’</i> + name’s Valet de Chambers, en you ain’t <i>got</i> no fambly + name, beca’se niggers don’t <i>have</i> em!” + </p> + <p> + Tom sprang up and seized a billet of wood and + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Missing word after raised in text; 'it'."> + raised it;</ins> but his mother only laughed at him, and said— + </p> + <p> + “Set down, you pup! Does you think you kin skyer me? It ain’t + in you, nor de likes of you. I reckon you’d shoot me in de back, + maybe, if you got a chance, for dat’s jist yo’ + style—<i>I</i> knows you, throo en throo—but I don’t + mind gitt’n killed, beca’se all dis is down in writin’ + en it’s in safe hands, too, en de man dat’s got it knows + whah to look for de right man when I gits killed. Oh, bless + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> + yo’ soul, if you puts yo’ mother up for as big a fool as + <i>you</i> is, you’s pow’ful mistaken, I kin tell you! + Now den, you set still en behave yo’self; en don’t you git + up ag’in till I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + Tom fretted and chafed awhile in a whirlwind of disorganizing sensations + and emotions, and finally said, with something like settled + conviction— + </p> + <p> + “The whole thing is moonshine; now then, go ahead and do your worst; + I’m done with you.” + </p> + <p> + Roxy made no answer. She took the lantern and started toward the door. + Tom was in a cold panic in a moment. + </p> + <p> + + “Come back, come back!” he wailed. “I didn’t mean + it, Roxy; I take it all back, and I’ll never say it again! + Please come back, Roxy!” + </p> + <p> + The woman stood a moment, then she said gravely: + </p> + <p> + “Dat’s one thing you’s got to stop, Valet de Chambers. + You can’t call me <i>Roxy</i>, same as if you was my equal. + Chillen don’t speak to dey mammies like dat. You’ll call me ma + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> + or mammy, dat’s what you’ll call me—leastways when dey + ain’t nobody aroun’. <i>Say</i> it!” + </p> + <p> + It cost Tom a struggle, but he got it out. + </p> + <p> + “Dat’s all right. Don’t you ever forgit it ag’in, + if you knows what’s good for you. Now den, you has said you + wouldn’t ever call it lies en moonshine ag’in. I’ll + tell you dis, for a warnin’: if you ever does say it ag’in, + it’s de <i>las’</i> time you’ll ever say it to me; + I’ll tramp as straight to de Judge as I kin walk, en tell him + who you is, en <i>prove</i> it. Does you b’lieve me when I + says dat?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” groaned Tom, “I more than believe it; + I <i>know</i> it.” + </p> + <p> + Roxy knew her conquest was complete. She could have proved nothing to + anybody, and her threat about the writings was a lie; but she knew the + person she was dealing with, and had made both statements without any + doubt as to the effect they would produce. + </p> + <p> + She went and sat down on her candle-box, and the pride and pomp of her + victorious attitude made it a throne. She said— + </p> + <p> + “Now den, Chambers, we’s gwine to talk + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> + business, en dey ain’t gwine to be no mo’ foolishness. In de + fust place, you gits fifty dollahs a month; you’s gwine to + han’ over half of it to yo’ ma. Plank it out!” + </p> + <p> + But Tom had only six dollars in the world. He gave her that, and promised + to start fair on next month’s pension. + </p> + <p> + “Chambers, how much is you in debt?” + </p> + <p> + Tom shuddered, and said— + </p> + <p> + “Nearly three hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “How is you gwine to pay it?” + </p> + <p> + Tom groaned out—“Oh, I don’t know; don’t ask me + such awful questions.” + </p> + <p> + But she stuck to her point until she wearied a confession out of him: he + had been prowling about in disguise, stealing small valuables from private + houses; in fact, he made a good deal of a raid on his fellow-villagers a + fortnight before, when he was supposed to be in St. Louis; but he doubted + if he had sent away enough stuff to realize the required amount, and was + afraid to make a further venture in the present excited state of the town. + His mother approved of his conduct, and offered + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> + to help, but this frightened him. He tremblingly ventured to say that if + she would retire from the town he should feel better and safer, and could + hold his head higher—and was going on to make an argument, but she + interrupted and surprised him pleasantly by saying she was ready; it + didn’t make any difference to her where she stayed, so that + she got her share of the pension regularly. She said she would not go + far, and would call at the haunted house once a month for her money. + Then she said— + </p> + <p> + “I don’t hate you so much now, but I’ve hated you a + many a year—and anybody would. Didn’t I change you off, en + give you a good fambly en a good name, en made you a white + gen’l’man en rich, wid store clothes on—en + what did I git for it? You despised me all de time, en was al’ays + sayin’ mean hard things to me befo’ folks, en wouldn’t + ever let me forgit I’s a + nigger—en—en———” + </p> + <p> + She fell to sobbing, and broke down. Tom said—“But you + know I didn’t know you were my mother; and besides—” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> + “Well, nemmine ’bout dat, now; let it go. I’s gwine + to fo’git it.” Then she added fiercely, “En + don’t ever make me remember it ag’in, or you’ll be + sorry, <i>I</i> tell you.” + </p> + <p> + When they were parting, Tom said, in the most persuasive way he could + command— + </p> + <p> + “Ma, would you mind telling me who was my father?” + </p> + <p> + He had supposed he was asking an embarrassing question. He was mistaken. + Roxy drew herself up with a proud toss of her head, and said— + </p> + <p> + “Does I mine tellin’ you? No, dat I don’t! + You ain’t got no ’casion to be shame’ + o’ yo’ father, <i>I</i> kin tell you. He wuz de highest + quality in dis whole town—ole Virginny stock. Fust famblies, he + wuz. Jes as good stock as de Driscolls en de Howards, de bes’ day + dey ever seed.” She put on a little prouder air, if possible, and + added impressively: “Does you ’member Cunnel Cecil Burleigh + Essex, dat died de same year yo’ young Marse Tom Driscoll’s + pappy died, en all de Masons en Odd Fellers en Churches + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> + turned out en give him de bigges’ funeral dis town ever seed? + Dat’s de man.” + </p> + <p> + Under the inspiration of her soaring complacency the departed graces of + her earlier days returned to her, and her bearing took to itself a dignity + and state that might have passed for queenly if her surroundings had been + a little more in keeping with it. + </p> + <p> + “Dey ain’t another nigger in dis town dat’s as + high-bawn as you is. Now den, go ’long! En jes you hold + yo’ head up as high as you want to—you + has de right, en dat I kin swah.” + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER X.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">The Nymph Revealed.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + All say, “How hard it is that we have to die”—a strange + complaint to come from the mouths of people who have had to + live.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + When angry, count four; when very angry, swear.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">Every</span> now and then, after Tom went to bed, + he had sudden wakings out of his sleep, and his first thought was, + “Oh, joy, it was all a dream!” Then he laid himself heavily + down again, with a groan and the muttered words, + “A nigger! I am a nigger! Oh, I wish I was dead!” + </p> + <p> + He woke at dawn with one more repetition of this horror, and then he + resolved to meddle no more with that treacherous sleep. He began to think. + Sufficiently bitter thinkings they were. They wandered along something + after this fashion: + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> + “Why were niggers <i>and</i> whites made? What crime did the + uncreated first nigger commit that the curse of birth was decreed for him? + And why is this awful difference made between white and black? … + How hard the nigger’s fate seems, this morning!—yet until last + night such a thought never entered my head.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed and groaned an hour or more away. Then “Chambers” + came humbly in to say that breakfast was nearly ready. “Tom” + blushed scarlet to see this aristocratic white youth cringe to him, a + nigger, and call him “Young Marster.” He said roughly— + </p> + <p> + “Get out of my sight!” and when the youth was gone, + he muttered, “He has done me no harm, poor wretch, but he is + an eyesore to me now, for he is Driscoll the young gentleman, + and I am a—oh, I wish I was dead!” + </p> + <p> + A gigantic irruption, like that of Krakatoa a few years ago, with the + accompanying earthquakes, tidal waves, and clouds of volcanic dust, + changes the face of the surrounding landscape beyond recognition, bringing + down the high lands, elevating the low, making fair + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> + lakes where deserts had been, and deserts where green prairies had smiled + before. The tremendous catastrophe which had befallen Tom had changed his + moral landscape in much the same way. Some of his low places he found + lifted to ideals, some of his ideals had sunk to the valleys, and lay + there with the sackcloth and ashes of pumice-stone and sulphur on their + ruined heads. + </p> + <p> + For days he wandered in lonely places, thinking, thinking, + thinking—trying to get his bearings. It was new work. If he met a + friend, he found that the habit of a lifetime had in some mysterious way + vanished—his arm hung limp, instead of involuntarily extending the + hand for a shake. It was the “nigger” + in him asserting its humility, and he blushed and was abashed. And the + “nigger” in him was surprised when the white friend put out + his hand for a shake with him. He found the “nigger” in him + involuntarily giving the road, on the sidewalk, to a white rowdy and + loafer. When Rowena, the dearest thing his heart knew, the idol of his + secret worship, invited him in, the “nigger” + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> + in him made an embarrassed excuse and was afraid to enter and sit with + the dread white folks on equal terms. The “nigger” in him + went shrinking and skulking here and there and yonder, and fancying it + saw suspicion and maybe detection in all faces, tones, and gestures. + So strange and uncharacteristic was Tom’s conduct that people + noticed it, and turned to look after him when he passed on; and when + he glanced back—as he could not help doing, in spite of his best + resistance—and caught that puzzled expression in a person’s + face, it gave him a sick feeling, and he took himself out of view as + quickly as he could. He presently came to have a hunted sense and a + hunted look, and then he fled away to the hill-tops and the solitudes. + He said to himself that the curse of Ham was upon him. + </p> + <p> + He dreaded his meals; the “nigger” in him was ashamed + to sit at the white folks’ table, and feared discovery all the + time; and once when Judge Driscoll said, “What’s + the matter with you? You look as meek as a nigger,” + he felt as secret murderers are said to feel + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> + when the accuser says, “Thou art the man!” Tom said he was + not well, and left the table. + </p> + <p> + His ostensible “aunt’s” solicitudes and endearments + were become a terror to him, and he avoided them. + </p> + <p> + And all the time, hatred of his ostensible “uncle” + was steadily growing in his heart; for he said to himself, + “He is white; and I am his chattel, his property, his goods, + and he can sell me, just as he could his dog.” + </p> + <p> + For as much as a week after this, Tom imagined that his character had + undergone a pretty radical change. But that was because he did not know + himself. + </p> + <p> + In several ways his opinions were totally changed, and would never go back + to what they were before, but the main structure of his character was not + changed, and could not be changed. One or two very important features of + it were altered, and in time effects would result from this, if + opportunity offered—effects of a quite serious nature, too. Under + the influence of a great mental and moral upheaval his character and + habits had taken on the appearance of complete change, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> + but after a while with the subsidence of the storm both began to settle + toward their former places. He dropped gradually back into his old + frivolous and easy-going ways and conditions of feeling and manner of + speech, and no familiar of his could have detected anything in him that + differentiated him from the weak and careless Tom of other days. + </p> + <p> + The theft-raid which he had made upon the village turned out better than + he had ventured to hope. It produced the sum necessary to pay his + gaming-debts, and saved him from exposure to his uncle and another + smashing of the will. He and his mother learned to like each other fairly + well. She couldn’t love him, as yet, because there + “warn’t nothing <i>to</i> him,” as she expressed it, + but her nature needed something or somebody to rule over, and he was + better than nothing. Her strong character and aggressive and commanding + ways compelled Tom’s admiration in spite of the fact that he got + more illustrations of them than he needed for his comfort. However, as a + rule her conversation was made up of racy tattle about the privacies of + the chief + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> + families of the town (for she went harvesting among their kitchens every + time she came to the village), and Tom enjoyed this. It was just in his + line. She always collected her half of his pension punctually, and he was + always at the haunted house to have a chat with her on these occasions. + Every now and then she paid him a visit there on between-days also. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally he would run up to St. Louis for a few weeks, and at last + temptation caught him again. He won a lot of money, but lost it, and with + it a deal more besides, which he promised to raise as soon as possible. + </p> + <p> + For this purpose he projected a new raid on his town. He never meddled + with any other town, for he was afraid to venture into houses whose ins + and outs he did not know and the habits of whose households he was not + acquainted with. He arrived at the haunted house in disguise on the + Wednesday before the advent of the twins—after writing his aunt + Pratt that he would not arrive until two days after—and lay in + hiding there with his mother until toward daylight Friday morning, when he + went to his uncle’s house and + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> + entered by the back way with his own key, and slipped up to his room, + where he could have the use of the mirror and toilet articles. He had + a suit of girl’s clothes with him in a bundle as a disguise for + his raid, and was wearing a suit of his mother’s clothing, with + black gloves and veil. By dawn he was tricked out for his raid, but he + caught a glimpse of Pudd’nhead Wilson through the window over the + way, and knew that Pudd’nhead had caught a glimpse of him. So he + entertained Wilson with some airs and graces and attitudes for a while, + then stepped out of sight and resumed the other disguise, and by and by + went down and out the back way and started down town to reconnoiter the + scene of his intended labors. + </p> + <p> + But he was ill at ease. He had changed back to Roxy’s dress, + with the stoop of age added to the disguise, so that Wilson would not + bother himself about a humble old woman leaving a neighbor’s + house by the back way in the early morning, in case he was still spying. + But supposing Wilson had seen him leave, and had thought it suspicious, + and had also followed him? The thought made Tom + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> + cold. He gave up the raid for the day, and hurried back + to the haunted house by the obscurest route he knew. His mother was gone; + but she came back, by and by, with the news of the grand reception at + Patsy Cooper’s, and soon persuaded him that the opportunity was + like a special providence, it was so inviting and perfect. So he went + raiding, after all, and made a nice success of it while everybody was + gone to Patsy Cooper’s. Success gave him nerve and even actual + intrepidity; insomuch, indeed, that after he had conveyed his harvest to + his mother in a back alley, he went to the reception himself, and added + several of the valuables of that house to his takings. + </p> + <p> + After this long digression we have now arrived once more at the point + where Pudd’nhead Wilson, while waiting for the arrival of the + twins on that same Friday evening, sat puzzling over the strange + apparition of that morning—a girl in young Tom Driscoll’s + bedroom; fretting, and guessing, and puzzling over it, and wondering + who the shameless creature might be. + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER XI.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Pudd’nhead’s Startling Discovery.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + There are three infallible ways of pleasing an author, and + the three form a rising scale of compliment: + 1, to tell him you have read one of his books; + 2, to tell him you have read all of his books; + 3, to ask him to let you read the manuscript of his + forthcoming book. + No. 1 admits you to his respect; No. 2 admits you to his admiration; + No. 3 carries you clear into his heart.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + As to the Adjective: when in doubt, + strike it out.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">The</span> twins arrived presently, and talk began. + It flowed along chattily and sociably, and under its influence the new + friendship gathered ease and strength. Wilson got out his Calendar, by + request, and read a passage or two from it, which the twins praised + quite cordially. This pleased the author so much that he complied gladly + when they asked him to lend them a batch of the work to read at + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> + home. + In the course of their wide travels they had found out that there are + three sure ways of pleasing an author; they were now working the best + of the three. + </p> + <p> + There was an interruption, now. Young Tom Driscoll appeared, and joined + the party. He pretended to be seeing the distinguished strangers for the + first time when they rose to shake hands; but this was only a blind, as he + had already had a glimpse of them, at the reception, while robbing the + house. The twins made mental note that he was smooth-faced and rather + handsome, and smooth and undulatory in his movements—graceful, in + fact. Angelo thought he had a good eye; Luigi thought there was something + veiled and sly about it. Angelo thought he had a pleasant free-and-easy + way of talking; Luigi thought it was more so than was agreeable. Angelo + thought he was a sufficiently nice young man; Luigi reserved his + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: change dicision to decision."> + decision.</ins> + Tom’s first contribution to the conversation was a question which + he had put to Wilson a hundred times before. It was always cheerily and + good-naturedly put, and always inflicted a little pang, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> + for it touched a secret sore; but this time the pang was sharp, since + strangers were present. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how does the law come on? Had a case yet?” + </p> + <p> + Wilson bit his lip, but answered, “No—not yet,” + with as much indifference as he could assume. Judge Driscoll had + generously left the law feature out of the Wilson biography which + he had furnished to the twins. Young Tom laughed pleasantly, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Wilson’s a lawyer, gentlemen, but he doesn’t + practise now.” + </p> + <p> + The sarcasm bit, but Wilson kept himself under control, and said without + passion: + </p> + <p> + “I don’t practise, it is true. It is true that I have + never had a case, and have had to earn a poor living for twenty years + as an expert accountant in a town where I can’t get hold of a + set of books to untangle as often as I should like. But it is also + true that I did fit myself well for the practice of the law. By the + time I was your age, Tom, I had chosen a profession, and was soon + competent to enter upon it.” Tom winced. “I never got a + chance to try my hand at it, and I may never get + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> + a chance; and yet if I ever do get it I shall be found ready, for I have + kept up my law-studies all these + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Replace comma after years with a period."> + years.”</ins> + </p> + <p> + “That’s it; that’s good grit! I like to see it. + I’ve a notion to throw all my business your way. My business + and your law-practice ought to make a pretty gay team, Dave,” + and the young fellow laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “If you will throw—” Wilson had thought of the girl + in Tom’s bedroom, and was going to say, “If you will throw + the surreptitious and disreputable part of your business my way, it may + amount to something;” but thought better of it and said, + “However, this matter doesn’t fit well in a general + conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, we’ll change the subject; I guess you + were about to give me another dig, anyway, so I’m willing to + change. How’s the Awful Mystery flourishing these days? + Wilson’s got a scheme for driving plain window-glass out of + the market by decorating it with greasy finger-marks, and getting + rich by selling it at famine prices to the crowned heads over + in Europe to outfit their palaces with. Fetch it out, Dave.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> + Wilson brought three of his glass strips, and said— + </p> + <p> + “I get the subject to pass the fingers of his right hand through + his hair, so as to get a little coating of the natural oil on them, + and then press the balls of them on the glass. A fine and delicate + print of the lines in the skin results, and is permanent, if it + doesn’t come in contact with something able to rub it off. + You begin, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I think you took my finger-marks once or twice before.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you were a little boy the last time, + only about twelve years old.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s so. Of course I’ve changed entirely since + then, and variety is what the crowned heads want, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + He passed his fingers through his crop of short hair, and pressed them one + at a time on the glass. Angelo made a print of his fingers on another + glass, and Luigi followed with the third. Wilson marked the glasses with + names and date, and put them away. Tom gave one of his little laughs, and + said— + </p> + <p> + “I thought I wouldn’t say anything, but if + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> + variety is what you are after, you have wasted a piece of glass. + The hand-print of one twin is the same as the hand-print of the + fellow-twin.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s done now, and I like to have them both, + anyway,” said Wilson, returning to his place. + </p> + <p> + “But look here, Dave,” said Tom, “you used to tell + people’s fortunes, too, when you took their finger-marks. + Dave’s just an all-round genius—a genius of the first + water, gentlemen; a great scientist running to seed here in this village, + a prophet with the kind of honor that prophets generally get at + home—for here they don’t give shucks for his scientifics, + and they call his skull a notion-factory—hey, Dave, ain’t it + so? But never mind; he’ll make his mark some day—finger-mark, + you know, he-he! But really, you want to let him take a shy at your palms + once; it’s worth twice the price of admission or your money’s + returned at the door. Why, he’ll read your wrinkles as easy as a + book, and not only tell you fifty or sixty things that’s going to + happen to you, but fifty or sixty thousand that ain’t. Come, Dave, + show the gentlemen + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> + what an inspired Jack-at-all-science we’ve got in this town, + and don’t know it.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson winced under this nagging and not very courteous chaff, and the + twins suffered with him and for him. They rightly judged, now, that the + best way to relieve him would be to take the thing in earnest and treat it + with respect, ignoring Tom’s rather overdone raillery; so + Luigi said— + </p> + <p> + “We have seen something of palmistry in our wanderings, and know + very well what astonishing things it can do. If it isn’t a + science, and one of the greatest of them, too, I don’t know what + its other name ought to be. In the Orient—” + </p> + <p> + Tom looked surprised and incredulous. He said— + </p> + <p> + “That juggling a science? But really, you ain’t + serious, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, entirely so. Four years ago we had our hands read + out to us as if our palms had been covered with print.” + </p> + <p> + + “Well, do you mean to say there was actually anything in it?” + asked Tom, his incredulity beginning to weaken a little. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> + “There was this much in it,” said Angelo: “what was + told us of our characters was minutely exact—we could not have + bettered it ourselves. Next, two or three memorable things that + had happened to us were laid bare—things which no one present + but ourselves could have known about.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it’s rank sorcery!” exclaimed Tom, who was now + becoming very much interested. “And how did they make out with + what was going to happen to you in the future?” + </p> + <p> + “On the whole, quite fairly,” said Luigi. “Two + or three of the most striking things foretold have happened since; + much the most striking one of all happened within that same year. + Some of the minor prophecies have come true; some of the minor and + some of the major ones have not been fulfilled yet, and of course + may never be: still, I should be more surprised if they failed to + arrive than if they didn’t.” + </p> + <p> + Tom was entirely sobered, and profoundly impressed. He said, + apologetically— + </p> + <p> + “Dave, I wasn’t meaning to belittle that science; I was + only chaffing—chattering, I + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> + reckon I’d better say. I wish you would look at their palms. + Come, won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why certainly, if you want me to; but you know I’ve + had no chance to become an expert, and don’t claim to be one. + When a past event is somewhat prominently recorded in the palm I can + generally detect that, but minor ones often escape me,—not always, + of course, but often,—but I haven’t much confidence in myself + when it comes to reading the future. I am talking as if palmistry was a + daily study with me, but that is not so. I haven’t examined half + a dozen hands in the last half dozen years; you see, the people got to + joking about it, and I stopped to let the talk die down. I’ll + tell you what we’ll do, Count Luigi: I’ll make a try at your + past, and if I have any success there—no, on the whole, I’ll + let the future alone; that’s really the affair of an expert.” + </p> + <p> + He took Luigi’s hand. Tom said— + </p> + <p> + “Wait—don’t look yet, Dave! Count Luigi, here’s + paper and pencil. Set down that thing that you said was the most striking + one that was foretold to you, and happened less + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> + than a year afterward, and give it to me so I can see if Dave finds it + in your hand.” + </p> + <p> + Luigi wrote a line privately, and folded up the piece of paper, and handed + it to Tom, saying— + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you when to look at it, if he finds it.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson began to study Luigi’s palm, tracing life lines, heart + lines, head lines, and so on, and noting carefully their relations with + the cobweb of finer and more delicate marks and lines that enmeshed them + on all sides; he felt of the fleshy cushion at the base of the thumb, and + noted its shape; he felt of the fleshy side of the hand between the wrist + and the base of the little finger, + + and noted its shape also; he painstakingly examined the fingers, observing + their form, proportions, and natural manner of disposing themselves when + in repose. All this process was watched by the three spectators with + absorbing interest, their heads bent together over Luigi’s palm, + and nobody disturbing the stillness with a word. Wilson now entered upon + a close survey of the palm again, and his revelations began. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> + He mapped out Luigi’s character and disposition, his tastes, + aversions, proclivities, ambitions, and eccentricities in a way which + sometimes made Luigi wince and the others laugh, but both twins declared + that the chart was artistically drawn and was correct. + </p> + <p> + Next, Wilson took up Luigi’s history. He proceeded cautiously + and with hesitation, now, moving his finger slowly along the great + lines of the palm, and now and then halting it at a + “star” or some such landmark, and examining that neighborhood + minutely. He proclaimed one or two past events, Luigi confirmed his + correctness, and the search went on. Presently Wilson glanced up suddenly + with a surprised expression— + </p> + <p> + “Here is a record of an incident which you would perhaps + not wish me to—” + </p> + <p> + “Bring it out,” said Luigi, good-naturedly; + “I promise you it sha’n’t embarrass me.” + </p> + <p> + But Wilson still hesitated, and did not seem quite to know what to do. + Then he said— + </p> + <p> + “I think it is too delicate a matter to—to—I + believe I would rather write it or whisper it to you, and let you + decide for yourself whether you want it talked out or not.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> + “That will answer,” said Luigi; “write it.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson wrote something on a slip of paper and handed it to Luigi, + who read it to himself and said to Tom— + </p> + <p> + “Unfold your slip and read it, Mr. Driscoll.” + </p> + <p> + Tom read: + </p> + <p> + “<i>It was prophesied that I would kill a man. + It came true before the year was out.</i>” + </p> + <p> + Tom added, “Great Scott!” + </p> + <p> + Luigi handed Wilson’s paper to Tom, and said— + </p> + <p> + “Now read this one.” + </p> + <p> + Tom read: + </p> + <p> + “<i>You have killed some one, but whether man, woman or + child, I do not make out.</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Cæsar’s ghost!” commented Tom, + with astonishment. “It beats anything that was ever + heard of! Why, a man’s own hand is his deadliest enemy! + Just think of that—a man’s own hand keeps a record + of the deepest and fatalest secrets of his life, and is + treacherously ready to expose him to any black-magic stranger + that comes along. But what do you + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> + let a person look at your hand for, with that awful thing printed + on it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Luigi, reposefully, “I + don’t mind it. I killed the man for good reasons, and + I don’t regret it.” + </p> + <p> + “What were the reasons?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he needed killing.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you why he did it, since he won’t say + himself,” said Angelo, warmly. “He did it to save my life, + that’s what he did it for. So it was a noble act, and + not a thing to be hid in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + “So it was, so it was,” said Wilson; “to do such a + thing to save a brother’s life is a great and fine action.” + </p> + <p> + “Now come,” said Luigi, “it is very pleasant + to hear you say these things, but for unselfishness, or heroism, or + magnanimity, the circumstances won’t stand scrutiny. You + overlook one detail; suppose I hadn’t saved Angelo’s + life, what would have become of mine? If I had let the man kill him, + wouldn’t he have killed me, too? I saved my own life, + you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is your way of talking,” said + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> + Angelo, + “but I know you—I don’t believe you thought of + yourself at all. I keep that weapon yet that Luigi killed the man with, + and I’ll show it to you sometime. That incident makes it + interesting, and it had a history before it came into Luigi’s + hands which adds to its interest. It was given to Luigi by a great Indian + prince, the Gaikowar of Baroda, and it had been in his family two or three + centuries. It killed a good many disagreeable people who troubled that + hearthstone at one time and another. It isn’t much too look at, + except that it isn’t shaped like other knives, or dirks, or + whatever it may be called—here, I’ll draw it for + you.” He took a sheet of paper and made a rapid sketch. + “There it is—a broad and murderous blade, with edges + like a razor for sharpness. The devices engraved on it are the ciphers + or names of its long line of possessors—I had Luigi’s name + added in Roman letters myself with our coat of arms, as you see. You + notice what a curious handle the thing has. It is solid ivory, + polished like a mirror, and is four or five inches long—round, + and as thick as + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> + a large man’s wrist, with the end squared off + flat, for your thumb to rest on; for you grasp it, with your thumb + resting on the blunt end—so—and lift it aloft and strike + downward. The Gaikowar showed us how the thing was done when he + gave it to Luigi, and before that night was ended Luigi had used the + knife, and the Gaikowar was a man short by reason of it. The sheath is + magnificently ornamented with gems of great value. You will find the + sheath more worth looking at than the knife itself, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Tom said to himself— + </p> + <p> + “It’s lucky I came here. I would have sold that knife + for a song; I supposed the jewels were glass.” + </p> + <p> + “But go on; don’t stop,” said Wilson. “Our + curiosity is up now, to hear about the homicide. Tell us about + that.” + </p> + <p> + + “Well, briefly, the knife was to blame for that, all around. + A native servant slipped into our room in the palace in the night, + to kill us and steal the knife on account of the fortune incrusted + on its sheath, without a doubt. Luigi had it under his pillow; + we + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> + were in bed together. There was a dim night-light burning. I + was asleep, but Luigi was awake, and he thought he detected a vague + form nearing the bed. He slipped the knife out of the sheath and was + ready, and unembarrassed by hampering bed-clothes, for the weather was + hot and we hadn’t any. Suddenly that native rose at the + bedside, and bent over me with his right hand lifted and a dirk in it + aimed at my throat; but Luigi grabbed his wrist, pulled him downward, and + drove his own knife into the man’s neck. That is the whole + story.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson and Tom drew deep breaths, and after some general chat about the + tragedy, Pudd’nhead said, taking Tom’s hand— + </p> + <p> + “Now, Tom, I’ve never had a look at your palms, as it happens; + perhaps you’ve got some little questionable privacies that + need—hel-lo!” + </p> + <p> + Tom had snatched away his hand, and was looking a good deal confused. + </p> + <p> + “Why, he’s blushing!” said Luigi. + </p> + <p> + Tom darted an ugly look at him, and said sharply— + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> + “Well, if I am, it ain’t because I’m a + murderer!” Luigi’s dark face flushed, but before he + could speak or move, Tom added with anxious haste: + “Oh, I beg a thousand pardons. I didn’t mean that; + it was out before I thought, and I’m very, very + sorry—you must forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + Wilson came to the rescue, and smoothed things down as well as he could; + and in fact was entirely successful as far as the twins were concerned, + for they felt sorrier for the affront put upon him by his guest’s + outburst of ill manners than for the insult offered to Luigi. But the + success was not so pronounced with the offender. Tom tried to seem at + his ease, and he went through the motions fairly well, but at bottom + he felt resentful toward all the three witnesses of his exhibition; + in fact, he felt so annoyed at them for having witnessed it and noticed + it that he almost forgot to feel annoyed at himself for placing it + before them. However, something presently happened which made him almost + comfortable, and brought him nearly back to a state of charity and + friendliness. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> + This was a little spat between the twins; not much of a + spat, but still a spat; and before they got far with it they were in + a decided condition of irritation with each other. Tom was charmed; + so pleased, indeed, that he cautiously did what he could to increase the + irritation while pretending to be actuated by more respectable motives. By + his help the fire got warmed up to the blazing-point, and he might have + had the happiness of seeing the flames show up, in another moment, but for + the interruption of a knock on the door—an interruption which + fretted him as much as it gratified Wilson. Wilson opened the door. + </p> + <p> + The visitor was a good-natured, ignorant, energetic, middle-aged Irishman + named John Buckstone, who was a great politician in a small way, and + always took a large share in public matters of every sort. One of the + town’s chief excitements, just now, was over the matter of rum. + There was a strong rum party and a strong anti-rum party. Buckstone was + training with the rum party, and he had been sent to hunt up the twins + and invite + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> + them to attend a mass-meeting of that faction. He delivered his errand, + and said the clans were already gathering in the big hall over the + market-house. Luigi accepted the invitation cordially, Angelo less + cordially, since he disliked crowds, and did not drink the powerful + intoxicants of America. In fact, he was even a teetotaler + sometimes—when it was judicious to be one. + </p> + <p> + The twins left with Buckstone, and Tom Driscoll joined company with + them uninvited. + </p> + <p> + In the distance one could see a long wavering line of torches drifting + down the main street, and could hear the throbbing of the bass drum, the + clash of cymbals, the squeaking of a fife or two, and the faint roar of + remote hurrahs. The tail-end of this procession was climbing the + market-house stairs when the twins arrived in its neighborhood; when + they reached the hall it was full of people, torches, smoke, noise and + enthusiasm. They were conducted to the platform by Buckstone—Tom + Driscoll still following—and were delivered to the chairman in the + midst of a prodigious explosion of welcome. When + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> + the noise had moderated a little, the chair proposed that “our + illustrious guests be at once elected, by complimentary acclamation, + to membership in our ever-glorious organization, the paradise of the + free and the perdition of the slave.” + </p> + <p> + This eloquent discharge opened the flood-gates of enthusiasm again, and + the election was carried with thundering unanimity. Then arose a storm + of cries: + </p> + <p> + “Wet them down! Wet them down! Give them a drink!” + </p> + <p> + Glasses of whisky were handed to the twins. Luigi waved his aloft, then + brought it to his lips; but Angelo set his down. There was another storm + of cries: + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with the other one?” + “What is the blond one going back on us for?” + “Explain! Explain!” + </p> + <p> + The chairman inquired, and then reported— + </p> + <p> + “We have made an unfortunate mistake, gentlemen. I find that + the Count Angelo + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Change Cappello to Capello."> + Capello</ins> is opposed to our creed—is a teetotaler, + in fact, and was not intending to apply for membership with us. He + desires that we + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> + reconsider the vote by which he was elected. What is the + pleasure of the house?” + </p> + <p> + There was a general burst of laughter, plentifully accented with + whistlings and cat-calls, but the energetic use of the gavel presently + restored something like order. Then a man spoke from the crowd, and said + that while he was very sorry that the mistake had been made, it would not + be possible to rectify it at the present meeting. According to the + by-laws it must go over to the next regular meeting for action. He would + not offer a motion, as none was required. He desired to apologize to the + gentleman in the name of the house, and begged to assure him that as far + as it might lie in the power of the Sons of Liberty, his temporary + membership in the order would be made pleasant to him. + </p> + <p> + This speech was received with great applause, mixed with cries of— + </p> + <p> + “That’s the talk!” “He’s + a good fellow, anyway, if he <i>is</i> a + teetotaler!” “Drink his health!” + “Give him a rouser, and no heeltaps!” + </p> + <p> + Glasses were handed around, and everybody + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> + on the platform drank Angelo’s health, while the house bellowed + forth in song: + </p> + <div class="poem1"> + <p class="poem1"> + For he’s a jolly good fel-low,</p> + <p class="poem1"> + For he’s a jolly good fel-low,</p> + <p class="poem1"> + For he’s a jolly good fe-el-low,—</p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which nobody can deny.</p> + </div> + <p> + Tom Driscoll drank. It was his second glass, for he had drunk + Angelo’s the moment that Angelo had set it down. The two drinks + made him very merry—almost idiotically so—and he began to + take a most lively and prominent part in the proceedings, particularly + in the music and cat-calls and side-remarks. + </p> + <p> + The chairman was still standing at the front, the twins at his side. The + extraordinarily close resemblance of the brothers to each other suggested + a witticism to Tom Driscoll, and just as the chairman began a speech he + skipped forward and said with an air of tipsy confidence to the + audience— + </p> + <p> + “Boys, I move that he keeps still and lets this human + philopena snip you out a speech.” + </p> + <p> + The descriptive aptness of the phrase caught the house, and a mighty burst + of laughter followed. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> + Luigi’s southern blood leaped to the boiling-point in a moment + under the sharp humiliation of this insult delivered in the presence + of four hundred strangers. It was not in the young man’s nature + to let the matter pass, or to delay the squaring of the account. He + took a couple of strides and halted behind the unsuspecting joker. + Then he drew back and delivered a kick of such titanic vigor that it + lifted Tom clear over the footlights and landed him on the heads of + the front row of the Sons of Liberty. + </p> + <p> + Even a sober person does not like to have a human being emptied on him + when he is not doing any harm; a person who is not sober cannot endure + such an attention at all. The nest of Sons of Liberty that Driscoll landed + in had not a sober bird in it; in fact there was probably not an entirely + sober one in the auditorium. Driscoll was promptly and indignantly flung + on to the heads of Sons in the next row, and these Sons passed him on + toward the rear, and then immediately began to pummel the front-row Sons + who had passed him to them. This course was strictly + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> + followed by bench after bench as Driscoll traveled in his tumultuous and + airy flight toward the door; so he left behind him an ever lengthening + wake of raging and plunging and fighting and swearing humanity. Down + went group after group of torches, and presently above the deafening + clatter of the gavel, roar of angry voices, and crash of succumbing + benches, rose the paralyzing cry of + “<span class="smcap">Fire!</span>” + </p> + <p> + The fighting ceased instantly; the cursing ceased; for one distinctly + defined moment there was a dead hush, a motionless calm, where the + tempest had been; then with one impulse the multitude awoke to life and + energy again, and went surging and struggling and swaying, this way and + that, its outer edges melting away through windows and doors and gradually + lessening the pressure and relieving the mass. + </p> + <p> + The fire-boys were never on hand so suddenly before; for there was no + distance to go, this time, their quarters being in the rear end of the + market-house. There was an engine company and a hook-and-ladder company. + Half of each was composed of rummies and + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> + the other half of anti-rummies, after the moral and political + share-and-share-alike fashion of the frontier town of the period. + Enough anti-rummies were loafing in quarters to man the engine and the + ladders. In two minutes they had their red shirts and helmets + on—they never stirred officially in unofficial costume—and + as the mass meeting overhead smashed through the long row of windows and + poured out upon the roof of the arcade, the deliverers were ready for + them with a powerful stream of water which washed some of them off the + roof and nearly drowned the rest. But water was preferable to fire, and + still the stampede from the windows continued, and still the pitiless + drenching assailed it until the building was empty; then the fire-boys + mounted to the hall and flooded it with water enough to annihilate forty + times as much fire as there was there; for a village fire-company does + not often get a chance to show off, and so when it does get a chance it + makes the most of it. Such citizens of that village as were of a + thoughtful and judicious temperament did not insure against fire; they + insured against the fire-company. + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER XII.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">The Shame of Judge Driscoll.</p> + + <p class="pullquote"> + Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence + of fear. Except a creature be part coward it is not a compliment to + say it is brave; it is merely a loose misapplication of the word. + Consider the flea!—incomparably the bravest of all the + creatures of God, if ignorance of fear were courage. Whether you + are asleep or awake he will attack you, caring nothing for the fact + that in bulk and strength you are to him as are the massed armies + of the earth to a sucking child; he lives both day and night and + all days and nights in the very lap of peril and the immediate presence + of death, and yet is no more afraid than is the man who walks the streets + of a city that was threatened by an earthquake ten centuries before. + When we speak of Clive, Nelson, and Putnam as men who + “didn’t know what fear was,” we ought always to add + the flea—and put him at the head of the + procession.<i>—Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">Judge Driscoll</span> was in bed and asleep by ten + o’clock on Friday night, and he was up and gone a-fishing before + daylight in the morning with his friend Pembroke Howard. These two had + been boys together in Virginia + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span> + when that State still ranked as the chief + and most imposing member of the Union, and they still coupled the proud + and affectionate adjective “old” with her name when they + spoke of her. In Missouri a recognized superiority attached to any + person who hailed from Old Virginia; and this superiority was exalted + to supremacy when a person of such nativity could also prove descent + from the First Families of that great commonwealth. The Howards and + Driscolls were of this aristocracy. In their eyes it was a nobility. + It had its unwritten laws, and they were as clearly defined and as + strict as any that could be found among the printed statutes of the + land. The F. F. V. was born a gentleman; his highest duty in + life was to watch over that great inheritance and keep it unsmirched. He + must keep his honor spotless. Those laws were his chart; his course was + marked out on it; if he swerved from it by so much as half a point + of the compass it meant shipwreck to his honor; that is to say, + degradation from his rank as a gentleman. These laws required certain + things of him which his religion might + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> + forbid: then his religion must yield—the laws could not be relaxed + to accommodate religions or anything else. Honor stood first; and the + laws defined what it was and wherein it differed in certain details from + honor as defined by church creeds and by the social laws and customs + of some of the minor divisions of the globe that had got crowded out when + the sacred boundaries of Virginia were staked out. + </p> + <p> + If Judge Driscoll was the recognized first citizen of Dawson’s + Landing, Pembroke Howard was easily its recognized second citizen. He + was called “the great lawyer”—an earned title. + He and Driscoll were of the same age—a year or two past sixty. + </p> + <p> + Although Driscoll was a free-thinker and Howard a strong and determined + Presbyterian, their warm intimacy suffered no impairment in consequence. + They were men whose opinions were their own property and not subject to + revision and amendment, suggestion or criticism, by anybody, even their + friends. + </p> + <p> + The day’s fishing finished, they came floating + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> + down stream in their skiff, talking national politics and other high + matters, and presently met a skiff coming up from town, with a man in + it who said: + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you know one of the new twins gave your nephew a + kicking last night, Judge?” + </p> + <p> + “Did <i>what</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Gave him a kicking.” + </p> + <p> + The old Judge’s lips paled, and his eyes began to flame. He + choked with anger for a moment, then he got out what he was trying to + say— + </p> + <p> + “Well—well—go on! give me the details!” + </p> + <p> + The man did it. At the finish the Judge was silent a minute, turning over + in his mind the shameful picture of Tom’s flight over the + footlights; then he said, as if musing + aloud—“H’m—I don’t understand it. + I was asleep at home. He didn’t wake me. Thought he was competent + to manage his affair without my help, I reckon.” His face lit up + with pride and pleasure at that thought, and he said with a cheery + complacency, “I like that—it’s the true old + blood—hey, Pembroke?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> + Howard smiled an iron smile, and nodded his head approvingly. Then the + news-bringer spoke again— + </p> + <p> + “But Tom beat the twin on the trial.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge looked at the man wonderingly, and said— + </p> + <p> + “The trial? What trial?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Tom had him up before Judge Robinson for assault + and battery.” + </p> + <p> + The old man shrank suddenly together like one who has received a + death-stroke. Howard sprang for him as he sank forward in a swoon, and + took him in his arms, and bedded him on his back in the boat. He sprinkled + water in his face, and said to the startled visitor— + </p> + <p> + “Go, now—don’t let him come to and find you here. + You see what an effect your heedless speech has had; you ought to have + been more considerate than to blurt out such a cruel piece of + slander as that.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m right down sorry I did it now, Mr. Howard, and I + wouldn’t have done it if I had thought: but it ain’t slander; + it’s perfectly true, just as I told him.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> + He rowed away. Presently the old Judge came out of his faint and looked up + piteously into the sympathetic face that was bent over him. + </p> + <p> + “Say it ain’t true, Pembroke; tell me it ain’t + true!” he said in a weak voice. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing weak in the deep organ-tones that responded— + </p> + <p> + “You know it’s a lie as well as I do, old friend. He is of the + best blood of the Old Dominion.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you for saying it!” said the old gentleman, + fervently. “Ah, Pembroke, it was such a blow!” + </p> + <p> + Howard stayed by his friend, and saw him home, and entered the house with + him. It was dark, and past supper-time, but the Judge was not thinking of + supper; he was eager to hear the slander refuted from headquarters, and as + eager to have Howard hear it, too. Tom was sent for, and he came + immediately. He was bruised and lame, and was not a happy-looking object. + His uncle made him sit down, and said— + </p> + <p> + “We have been hearing about your adventure, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> + Tom, with a handsome lie added to it for embellishment. Now pulverize that + lie to dust! What measures have you taken? How does the thing + stand?” + </p> + <p> + Tom answered guilelessly: “It don’t stand at all; + it’s all over. I had him up in court and beat him. + Pudd’nhead Wilson defended him—first case + he ever had, and lost it. The judge fined the miserable + hound five dollars for the assault.” + </p> + <p> + Howard and the Judge sprang to their feet with the opening + sentence—why, neither knew; then they stood gazing vacantly at + each other. Howard stood a moment, then sat mournfully down without + saying anything. The Judge’s wrath began to kindle, and + he burst out— + </p> + <p> + “You cur! You scum! You vermin! Do you mean to tell me that blood + of my race has suffered a blow and crawled to a court of law about + it? Answer me!” + </p> + <p> + Tom’s head drooped, and he answered with an eloquent silence. + His uncle stared at him with a mixed expression of amazement and + shame and incredulity that was sorrowful to see. At last he said— + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> + “Which of the twins was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Count Luigi.” + </p> + <p> + “You have challenged him?” + </p> + <p> + “N—no,” hesitated Tom, turning pale. + </p> + <p> + “You will challenge him to-night. Howard will carry it.” + </p> + <p> + Tom began to turn sick, and to show it. He turned his hat round and round + in his hand, his uncle glowering blacker and blacker upon him as the heavy + seconds drifted by; then at last he began to stammer, and said + piteously— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please don’t ask me to do it, uncle! He is a + murderous devil—I never could—I—I’m + afraid of him!” + </p> + <p> + Old Driscoll’s mouth opened and closed three times before + he could get it to perform its office; then he stormed out— + </p> + <p> + “A coward in my family! A Driscoll a coward! Oh, what have I done + to deserve this infamy!” He tottered to his secretary in the + corner repeating that lament again and again in heartbreaking tones, + and got out of a drawer a paper, which he slowly tore to bits + scattering the bits absently in his track as he + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> + walked up and down the room, still grieving and lamenting. At last he + said— + </p> + <p> + “There it is, shreds and fragments once more—my will. + Once more you have forced me to disinherit you, you base son + of a most noble father! Leave my sight! Go—before + I spit on you!” + </p> + <p> + The young man did not tarry. Then the Judge turned to Howard: + </p> + <p> + “You will be my second, old friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “There is pen and paper. Draft the cartel, and lose no time.” + </p> + <p> + “The Count shall have it in his hands in fifteen + minutes,” said Howard. + </p> + <p> + Tom was very heavy-hearted. His appetite was gone with his property + and his self-respect. He went out the back way and wandered down the + obscure lane grieving, and wondering if any course of future + conduct, however discreet and carefully perfected and watched over, + could win back his uncle’s favor and persuade him to + reconstruct once more that generous will which had just gone to ruin + before his eyes. He finally concluded + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> + that it could. He said to himself that he had accomplished this sort of + triumph once already, and that what had been done once could be done + again. He would set about it. He would bend every energy to the task, + and he would score that triumph once more, cost what it might to his + convenience, limit as it might his frivolous and liberty-loving life. + </p> + <p> + “To begin,” he said to himself, “I’ll square + up with the proceeds of my raid, and then gambling has got to be + stopped—and stopped short off. It’s the worst vice + I’ve got—from my standpoint, anyway, because + it’s the one he can most easily find out, through the impatience + of my creditors. He thought it expensive to have to pay two hundred + dollars to them for me once. Expensive—<i>that!</i> Why, it + cost me the whole of his fortune—but of course he never thought + of that; some people can’t think of any but their own side of a + case. If he had known how deep I am in, now, the will would have gone + to pot without waiting for a duel to help. Three hundred dollars! + It’s a pile! But he’ll never hear of it, I’m + thankful to say. The minute I’ve + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> + cleared it off, I’m safe; and I’ll never touch a card again. + Anyway, I won’t while he lives, I make oath to that. I’m + entering on my last reform—I know it—yes, and I’ll win; + but after that, if I ever slip again I’m gone.” + </p> + <hr /> + + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Tom Stares at Ruin.</p> + + <p class="pullquote"> + When I reflect upon the number of disagreeable people who I + know have gone to a better world, I am moved to lead a + different life.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + October. This is one of the peculiarly dangerous months to + speculate in stocks in. The others are July, January, + September, April, November, May, March, June, December, + August, and February.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">Thus</span> mournfully communing with himself Tom + moped along the lane past Pudd’nhead Wilson’s + house, and still + on and on between fences inclosing vacant country on each hand till he + neared the haunted house, then he came moping back again, with many sighs + and heavy with trouble. He sorely wanted cheerful company. Rowena! His + heart gave a bound at the thought, but the next thought quieted + it—the detested twins would be there. + </p> + <p> + He was on the inhabited side of Wilson’s + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> + house, and now as he approached it he noticed that the sitting-room was + lighted. This would do; others made him feel unwelcome sometimes, but + Wilson never failed in courtesy toward him, and a kindly courtesy does + at least save one’s feelings, even if it is not professing to stand + for a welcome. Wilson heard footsteps at his threshold, then the clearing + of a throat. + </p> + <p> + “It’s that fickle-tempered, dissipated young + goose—poor devil, he find friends pretty scarce to-day, + likely, after the disgrace of carrying a personal-assault case + into a law-court.” + </p> + <p> + A dejected knock. “Come in!” + </p> + <p> + Tom entered, and drooped into a chair, without saying anything. Wilson + said kindly— + </p> + <p> + “Why, my boy, you look desolate. Don’t take it so hard. + Try and forget you have been + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Change single quote after kicked to a double quote."> + kicked.”</ins> + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear,” said Tom, wretchedly, “it’s + not that, Pudd’nhead—it’s not that. It’s a + thousand times worse than that—oh, yes, a million + times worse.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> + “Why, Tom, what do you mean? Has Rowena—” + </p> + <p> + “Flung me? No, but the old man has.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson said to himself, “Aha!” and thought of the + mysterious girl in the bedroom. “The Driscolls have been + making discoveries!” Then he said aloud, gravely: + </p> + <p> + “Tom, there are some kinds of dissipation which—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shucks, this hasn’t got anything to do with + dissipation. He wanted me to challenge that derned Italian savage, + and I wouldn’t do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course he would do that,” said Wilson in a meditative + matter-of-course way, “but the thing that puzzled me was, why + he didn’t look to that last night, for one thing, and why he + let you carry such a matter into a court of law at all, either + before the duel or after it. It’s no place for it. It was not + like him. I couldn’t understand it. How did it happen?” + </p> + <p> + “It happened because he didn’t know anything about it. + He was asleep when I got home last night.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> + “And you didn’t wake him? Tom, is that possible?” + </p> + <p> + Tom was not getting much comfort here. He fidgeted a moment, then said: + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t choose to tell him—that’s all. + He was going a-fishing before dawn, with Pembroke Howard, and if I + got the twins into the common calaboose—and I thought sure I + could—I never dreamed of their slipping out on a paltry fine + for such an outrageous offense—well, once in the calaboose + they would be disgraced, and uncle wouldn’t want any + duels with that sort of characters, and wouldn’t allow any.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom, I am ashamed of you! I don’t see how you could treat + your good old uncle so. I am a better friend of his than you are; for + if I had known the circumstances I would have kept that case out of + court until I got word to him and let him have a gentleman’s + chance.” + </p> + <p> + “You would?” exclaimed Tom, with lively surprise. + “And it your first case! And you know perfectly well there + never would have <i>been</i> any case if he had got that chance, + don’t + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> + you? And you’d have finished your days a pauper + nobody, instead of being an actually launched and recognized lawyer + to-day. And you would really have done that, would you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + Tom looked at him a moment or two, then shook his head sorrowfully and + said— + </p> + <p> + “I believe you—upon my word I do. I don’t know + why I do, but I do. Pudd’nhead Wilson, I think you’re + the biggest fool I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mention it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he has been requiring you to fight the Italian and you have + refused. You degenerate remnant of an honorable line! I’m thoroughly + ashamed of you, Tom!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s nothing! I don’t care for anything, now + that the will’s torn up again.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom, tell me squarely—didn’t he find any fault with + you for anything but those two things—carrying the case into + court and refusing to fight?” + </p> + <p> + He watched the young fellow’s face narrowly, but it was entirely + reposeful, and so also was the voice that answered: + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> + “No, he didn’t find any other fault with me. If he had + had any to find, he would have begun yesterday, for he was just in the + humor for it. He drove that jack-pair around town and showed them the + sights, and when he came home he couldn’t find his father’s + old silver watch that don’t keep time and he thinks so much of, + and couldn’t remember what he did with it three or four days ago + when he saw it last, and so when I arrived he was all in a sweat about it, + and when I suggested that it probably wasn’t lost but stolen, it put + him in a regular passion and he said I was a fool—which convinced + me, without any trouble, that that was just what he was afraid + <i>had</i> happened, himself, but did not want to believe it, because + lost things stand a better chance of being found again than stolen + ones.” + </p> + <p> + “Whe-ew!” whistled Wilson; + “score another on the list.” + </p> + <p> + “Another what?” + </p> + <p> + “Another theft!” + </p> + <p> + “Theft?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, theft. That watch isn’t lost, it’s + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> + stolen. There’s been another raid on the town—and just the + same old mysterious sort of thing that has happened once before, as you + remember.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean it!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s as sure as you are born! Have you missed anything + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “No. That is, I did miss a silver pencil-case that Aunt Mary + Pratt gave me last birthday—” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll find it stolen—that’s what + you’ll find.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I sha’n’t; for when I suggested theft about + the watch and got such a rap, I went and examined my room, and the + pencil-case was missing, but it was only mislaid, and I found + it again.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure you missed nothing else?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, nothing of consequence. I missed a small plain gold + ring worth two or three dollars, but that will turn up. + I’ll look again.” + </p> + <p> + “In my opinion you’ll not find it. There’s been + a raid, I tell you. Come <i>in!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Justice Robinson entered, followed by + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> + Buckstone and the town-constable, Jim Blake. They sat down, and after + some wandering and aimless weather-conversation Wilson said— + </p> + <p> + “By the way, we’ve just added another to the list of + thefts, maybe two. Judge Driscoll’s old silver watch is gone, + and Tom here has missed a gold ring.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is a bad business,” said the Justice, + “and gets worse the further it goes. The Hankses, the Dobsons, + the Pilligrews, the Ortons, the Grangers, the Hales, the Fullers, the + Holcombs, in fact everybody that lives around about Patsy Cooper’s + has been robbed of little things like trinkets and teaspoons and + such-like small valuables that are easily carried off. It’s + perfectly plain that the thief took advantage of the reception at Patsy + Cooper’s when all the neighbors were in her house and all their + niggers hanging around her fence for a look at the show, to raid the + vacant houses undisturbed. Patsy is miserable about it; miserable on + account of the neighbors, and particularly miserable on account of her + foreigners, of course; so miserable + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> + on their account that she hasn’t any room to worry about her own + little losses.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the same old raider,” said Wilson. “I + suppose there isn’t any doubt about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Constable Blake doesn’t think so.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you’re wrong there,” said Blake; + “the other times it was a man; there was plenty of signs of that, + as we know, in the profession, though we never got hands on him; + but this time it’s a woman.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson thought of the mysterious girl straight off. She was always in his + mind now. But she failed him again. Blake continued: + </p> + <p> + “She’s a stoop-shouldered old woman with a covered basket + on her arm, in a black veil, dressed in mourning. I saw her going + aboard the ferry-boat yesterday. Lives in Illinois, I reckon; but + I don’t care where she lives, I’m going to get + her—she can make herself sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think she’s the thief?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there ain’t any other, for one thing; and for + another, some nigger draymen that happened to be driving along saw + her coming out of or going into houses, and told + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> + me so—and it just happens that they was <i>robbed</i> houses, + every time.” + </p> + <p> + It was granted that this was plenty good enough circumstantial evidence. + A pensive silence followed, which lasted some moments, then Wilson + said— + </p> + <p> + “There’s one good thing, anyway. She can’t either + pawn or sell Count Luigi’s costly Indian dagger.” + </p> + <p> + “My!” said Tom, “is <i>that</i> gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that was a haul! But why can’t she pawn it or + sell it?” + </p> + <p> + “Because when the twins went home from the Sons of Liberty + meeting last night, news of the raid was sifting in from everywhere, + and Aunt Patsy was in distress to know if they had lost anything. + They found that the dagger was gone, and they notified the police and + pawnbrokers everywhere. It was a great haul, yes, but the old woman + won’t get anything out of it, because she’ll get + caught.” + </p> + <p> + “Did they offer a reward?” asked Buckstone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; five hundred dollars for the knife, and five hundred + more for the thief.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> + “What a leather-headed idea!” exclaimed the constable. + “The thief da’sn’t go near them, nor send anybody. + Whoever goes is going to get himself nabbed, for their ain’t + any pawnbroker that’s going to lose the chance to—” + </p> + <p> + If anybody had noticed Tom’s face at that time, the gray-green + color of it might have provoked curiosity; but nobody did. He said to + himself: “I’m gone! I never can square up; the rest of the + plunder won’t pawn or sell for half of the bill. Oh, I know + it—I’m gone, I’m gone—and this time it’s + for good. Oh, this is awful—I don’t know what to do, + nor which way to turn!” + </p> + <p> + “Softly, softly,” said Wilson to Blake. “I + planned their scheme for them at midnight last night, and it was all + finished up shipshape by two this morning. They’ll get their + dagger back, and then I’ll explain to you how + the thing was done.” + </p> + <p> + There were strong signs of a general curiosity, and Buckstone said— + </p> + <p> + “Well, you have whetted us up pretty sharp, Wilson, and I’m + free to say that + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> + if you don’t mind telling us in confidence—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’d as soon tell as not, Buckstone, but as long as + the twins and I agreed to say nothing about it, we must let it stand so. + But you can take my word for it you won’t be kept waiting three + days. Somebody will apply for that reward pretty promptly, and + I’ll show you the thief and the dagger both very soon + afterward.” + </p> + <p> + The constable was disappointed, and also perplexed. He said— + </p> + <p> + “It may all be—yes, and I hope it will, but I’m blamed + if I can see my way through it. It’s too many for yours + truly.” + </p> + <p> + The subject seemed about talked out. Nobody seemed to have anything + further to offer. After a silence the justice of the peace informed Wilson + that he and Buckstone and the constable had come as a committee, on the + part of the Democratic party, to ask him to run for mayor—for the + little town was about to become a city and the first charter election was + approaching. It was the first attention which Wilson had ever received at + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> + the hands of any party; it was a sufficiently humble one, but it was a + recognition of his début into the town’s life and activities + at last; it was a step upward, and he was deeply gratified. He accepted, + and the committee departed, followed by young Tom. + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Roxana Insists Upon Reform.</p> + + <p class="pullquote"> + The true Southern watermelon is a boon apart, and not to be + mentioned with commoner things. It is chief of this world’s + luxuries, king by the grace of God over all the fruits of + the earth. When one has tasted it, he knows what the angels + eat. It was not a Southern watermelon that Eve took: we know + it because she repented.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">About</span> the time that Wilson was bowing the + committee out, Pembroke Howard was entering the next house to report. + He found the old Judge sitting grim and straight in his chair, waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Howard—the news?” + </p> + <p> + “The best in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Accepts, does he?” and the light of battle gleamed + joyously in the Judge’s eye. + </p> + <p> + “Accepts? Why, he jumped at it.” + </p> + <p> + “Did, did he? Now that’s fine—that’s very fine. + I like that. When is it to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Now! Straight off! To-night! An admirable + fellow—admirable!” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> + “Admirable? He’s a darling! Why, it’s an honor + as well as a pleasure to stand up before such a man. Come—off + with you! Go and arrange everything—and give him my heartiest + compliments. A rare fellow, indeed; an admirable fellow, as you have + said!” + </p> + <p> + Howard hurried away, saying— + </p> + <p> + “I’ll have him in the vacant stretch between Wilson’s + and the haunted house within the hour, and I’ll bring my own + pistols.” + </p> + <p> + Judge Driscoll began to walk the floor in a state of pleased excitement; + but presently he stopped, and began to think—began to think of Tom. + Twice he moved toward the secretary, and twice he turned away again; but + finally he said— + </p> + <p> + “This may be my last night in the world—I must not take the + chance. He is worthless and unworthy, but it is largely my fault. He was + intrusted to me by my brother on his dying bed, and I have indulged him + to his hurt, instead of training him up severely, and making a man of + him. I have violated my trust, and I must not add the sin of desertion + to + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> + that. I have forgiven him once already, and would subject him to a + long and hard trial before forgiving him again, if I could live; but I + must not run that risk. No, I must restore the will. But if I survive the + duel, I will hide it away, and he will not know, and I will not tell him + until he reforms, and I see that his reformation is going to be + permanent.” + </p> + <p> + He re-drew the will, and his ostensible nephew was heir to a fortune again. + As he was finishing his task, Tom, wearied with another brooding tramp, + entered the house and went tiptoeing past the sitting-room door. He + glanced in, and hurried on, for the sight of his uncle had nothing but + terrors for him to-night. But his uncle was writing! That was unusual at + this late hour. What could he be writing? A chill of anxiety settled down + upon Tom’s heart. Did that writing concern him? He was afraid so. + He reflected that when ill luck begins, it does not come in sprinkles, + but in showers. He said he would get a glimpse of that document or know + the reason why. He heard some one coming, and stepped out of sight and + hearing. It was + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> + Pembroke Howard. What could be + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Change period after hatching to question mark."> + hatching?</ins> + </p> + <p> + Howard said, with great satisfaction: + </p> + <p> + “Everything’s right and ready. He’s gone to the + battle-ground with his second and the surgeon—also with his brother. + I’ve arranged it all with Wilson—Wilson’s his second. + We are to have three shots apiece.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! How is the moon?” + </p> + <p> + “Bright as day, nearly. Perfect, for the distance—fifteen + yards. No wind—not a breath; hot and still.” + </p> + <p> + “All good; all first-rate. Here, Pembroke, read this, and witness + it.” + </p> + <p> + Pembroke read and witnessed the will, then gave the old man’s hand a + hearty shake and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now that’s right, York—but I knew you would do it. + You couldn’t leave that poor chap to fight along without means or + profession, with certain defeat before him, and I knew you + wouldn’t, for his father’s sake if not for his own.” + </p> + <p> + “For his dead father’s sake I couldn’t, I know; + for poor Percy—but you know what + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> + Percy was to me. But mind—Tom is not to know of this unless I + fall to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. I’ll keep the secret.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge put the will away, and the two started for the battle-ground. In + another minute the will was in Tom’s hands. His misery vanished, his + feelings underwent a tremendous revulsion. He put the will carefully back + in its place, and spread his mouth and swung his hat once, twice, three + times around his head, in imitation of three rousing huzzas, no sound + issuing from his lips. He fell to communing with himself excitedly and + joyously, but every now and then he let off another volley of dumb + hurrahs. + </p> + <p> + He said to himself: “I’ve got the fortune again, but + I’ll not let on that I know about it. And this time I’m going + to hang on to it. I take no more risks. I’ll gamble no more, + I’ll drink no more, because—well, because I’ll not go + where there is any of that sort of thing going on, again. It’s the + sure way, and the only sure way; I might have thought of that + sooner—well, yes, if I had wanted to. But now—dear me, + I’ve had a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> + scare this time, and I’ll take no more chances. Not a single chance + more. Land! I persuaded myself this evening that I could fetch him around + without any great amount of effort, but I’ve been getting more and + more heavy-hearted and doubtful straight along, ever since. If he tells + me about this thing, all right; but if he doesn’t, I + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Remove comma after sha'n't." + >sha’n’t</ins> let on. I—well, I’d like to tell + Pudd’nhead Wilson, but—no, I’ll think about that; + perhaps I won’t.” He whirled off another dead huzza, and + said, “I’m reformed, and this time I’ll stay so, + sure!” + </p> + <p> + He was about to close with a final grand silent demonstration, when he + suddenly recollected that Wilson had put it out of his power to pawn or + sell the Indian knife, and that he was once more in awful peril of + exposure by his creditors for that reason. His joy collapsed utterly, and + he turned away and moped toward the door moaning and lamenting over the + bitterness of his luck. He dragged himself up-stairs, and brooded in his + room a long time disconsolate and forlorn, with Luigi’s Indian + knife for a text. At last he sighed and said: + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span> + “When I supposed these stones were glass and this ivory bone, + the thing hadn’t any interest for me because it hadn’t + any value, and couldn’t help me out of my trouble. But + now—why, now it is full of interest; yes, and of a sort to break + a body’s heart. It’s a bag of gold that has turned + to dirt and ashes in my hands. It could save me, and save me so easily, + and yet I’ve got to go to ruin. It’s like drowning with a + life-preserver in my reach. All the hard luck comes to me, and all the + good luck goes to other people—Pudd’nhead Wilson, for + instance; even his career has got a sort of a little start at last, and + what has he done to deserve it, I should like to know? Yes, he has opened + his own road, but he isn’t content with that, but must block mine. + It’s a sordid, selfish world, and I wish I was out of + it.” He allowed the light of the candle to play upon the jewels of + the sheath, but the flashings and sparklings had no charm for his eye; + they were only just so many pangs to his heart. “I must not say + anything to Roxy about this thing,” he said, “she is too + daring. She would be for + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> + digging these stones out and selling them, and then—why, she would + be arrested and the stones traced, and then—” The thought + made him quake, and he hid the knife away, trembling all over and + glancing furtively about, like a criminal who fancies that the accuser + is already at hand. + </p> + <p> + Should he try to sleep? Oh, no, sleep was not for him; his trouble was too + haunting, too afflicting for that. He must have somebody to mourn with. He + would carry his despair to Roxy. + </p> + <p> + He had heard several distant gunshots, but that sort of thing was not + uncommon, and they had made no impression upon him. He went out at the + back door, and turned westward. He passed Wilson’s house and + proceeded along the lane, and presently saw several figures approaching + Wilson’s place through the vacant lots. These were the duelists + returning from the fight; he thought he recognized them, but as he had + no desire for white people’s company, he stooped down behind the + fence until they were out of his way. + </p> + <p> + Roxy was feeling fine. She said: + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> + “Whah was you, child? Warn’t you in it?” + </p> + <p> + “In what?” + </p> + <p> + “In de duel.” + </p> + <p> + “Duel? Has there been a duel?” + </p> + <p> + “’Co’se dey has. De ole Jedge has be’n + havin’ a duel wid one o’ dem twins.” + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott!” Then he added to himself: “That’s + what made him re-make the will; he thought he might get killed, and it + softened him toward me. And that’s what he and Howard were so + busy about.… Oh dear, if the twin had only killed him, + I should be out of my—” + </p> + <p> + “What is you mumblin’ bout, Chambers? Whah was you? + Didn’t you know dey was gwyne to be a duel?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn’t. The old man tried to get me to fight one with + Count Luigi, but he didn’t succeed, so I reckon he concluded to + patch up the family honor himself.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed at the idea, and went rambling on with a detailed account of + his talk with the Judge, and how shocked and ashamed the Judge was to find + that he had a coward in his family. He glanced up at last, and got a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> + shock himself. Roxana’s bosom was heaving with suppressed passion, + and she was glowering down upon him with measureless contempt written + in her face. + </p> + <p> + “En you refuse’ to fight a man dat kicked you, + ’stid o’ jumpin’ at de chance! En you ain’t + got no mo’ feelin’ den to come en tell me, dat fetched sich + a po’ low-down ornery rabbit into de worl’! Pah! it make me + sick! It’s de nigger in you, dat’s what it is. Thirty-one + parts o’ you is white, en on’y one part nigger, en dat + po’ little one part is yo’ <i>soul</i>. + Tain’t wuth savin’; tain’t wuth totin’ out on a + shovel en throwin’ in de gutter. You has disgraced yo’ birth. + What would yo’ pa think o’ you? It’s enough to make him + turn in his grave.” + </p> + <p> + The last three sentences stung Tom into a fury, and he said to himself + that if his father were only alive and in reach of assassination his + mother would soon find that he had a very clear notion of the size of his + indebtedness to that man, and was willing to pay it up in full, and would + do it too, even at risk of his life; but he kept this thought to himself; + that was safest in his mother’s present state. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> + “Whatever has come o’ yo’ Essex blood? Dat’s + what I can’t understan’. En it ain’t on’y jist + Essex blood dat’s in you, not by a long sight—’deed + it ain’t! My great-great-great-gran’father en yo’ + great-great-great-great-gran’father was Ole Cap’n John Smith, + de highest blood dat Ole Virginny ever turned out, en <i>his</i> + great-great-gran’mother or somers along back dah, was Pocahontas + de Injun queen, en her husbun’ was a nigger king outen + Africa—en yit here you is, a slinkin’ outen a duel en + disgracin’ our whole line like a ornery low-down hound! Yes, + it’s de nigger in you!” + </p> + <p> + She sat down on her candle-box and fell into a reverie. Tom did not + disturb her; he sometimes lacked prudence, but it was not in circumstances + of this kind, Roxana’s storm went gradually down, but it died hard, + and even when it seemed to be quite gone, it would now and then break out + in a distant rumble, so to speak, in the form of muttered ejaculations. + One of these was, “Ain’t nigger enough in him to show in + his finger-nails, en dat takes mighty little—yit dey’s enough + to paint his soul.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> + Presently she muttered. “Yassir, enough to paint a whole + thimbleful of ’em.” At last her ramblings ceased + altogether, and her countenance began to clear—a welcome sign to + Tom, who had learned her moods, and knew she was on the threshold of + good-humor, now. He noticed that from time to time she unconsciously + carried her finger to the end of her nose. He looked closer and said: + </p> + <p> + “Why, mammy, the end of your nose is skinned. + How did that come?” + </p> + <p> + She sent out the sort of whole-hearted peal of laughter which God had + vouchsafed in its perfection to none but the happy angels in heaven and + the bruised and broken black slave on the earth, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Dad fetch dat duel, I be’n in it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious! did a bullet do that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yassir, you bet it did!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I declare! Why, how did that happen?” + </p> + <p> + “Happened dis-away. I ’uz a-sett’n’ here kinder + dozin’ in de dark, en <i>che-bang!</i> goes a gun, right out dah. + I skips along out towards t’other end o’ de house to see + what’s gwyne + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> + on, en stops by de ole winder on de side towards + Pudd’nhead Wilson’s house dat ain’t got no sash in + it,—but dey ain’t none of ’em got any sashes, fur as + dat’s concerned,—en I stood dah in de dark en look out, en + dar in de moonlight, right down under me ’uz one o’ de + twins a-cussin’—not much, but jist a-cussin’ + soft—it ’uz de brown one dat ’uz cussin’, + ’ca’se he ’uz hit in de shoulder. En Doctor Claypool + he ’uz a-workin’ at him, en Pudd’nhead Wilson he + ’uz a-he’pin’, en ole Jedge Driscoll en Pem Howard + ’uz a-standin’ out yonder a little piece waitin’ + for ’em to git ready agin. En treckly dey squared off en + give de word, en <i>bang-bang</i> went de pistols, en de twin he say, + ‘Ouch!’—hit him on de han’ dis time,—en I + hear dat same bullet go <i>spat!</i> ag’in, de logs under de + winder; en de nex’ time dey shoot, de twin say, ‘Ouch!’ + ag’in, en I done it too, ’ca’se de bullet glance’ + on his cheek-bone en skip up here en glance on de side o’ + de winder en whiz right acrost my face en tuck de hide off’n my + nose—why, if I’d ’a’ be’n jist a + inch or a inch en a half furder ’t would ’a’ tuck de + whole nose en disfiggered me. Here’s de bullet; I hunted her + up.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> + “Did you stand there all the time?” + </p> + <p> + “Dat’s a question to ask, ain’t it? What else would + I do? Does I git a chance to see a duel every day?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you were right in range! Weren’t you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + The woman gave a sniff of scorn. + </p> + <p> + “’Fraid! De Smith-Pocahontases ain’t + ’fraid o’ nothin’, let alone bullets.” + </p> + <p> + “They’ve got pluck enough, I suppose; what they lack is + judgment. <i>I</i> wouldn’t have stood there.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody’s accusin’ you!” + </p> + <p> + “Did anybody else get hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we all got hit ’cep’ de blon’ twin en de + doctor en de seconds. De Jedge didn’t git hurt, but I hear + Pudd’nhead say de bullet snip some o’ his + ha’r off.” + </p> + <p> + “’George!” said Tom to himself, “to come so + near being out of my trouble, and miss it by an inch. Oh dear, dear, + he will live to find me out and sell me to some nigger-trader + yet—yes, and he would do it in a minute.” Then he + said aloud, in a grave tone— + </p> + <p> + “Mother, we are in an awful fix.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> + Roxana caught her breath with a spasm, and said— + </p> + <p> + “Chile! What you hit a body so sudden for, like dat? + What’s be’n en gone en happen’?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there’s one thing I didn’t tell you. When I + wouldn’t fight, he tore up the will again, and—” + </p> + <p> + Roxana’s face turned a dead white, and she said— + </p> + <p> + “Now you’s <i>done!</i>—done forever! Dat’s + de end. Bofe un us is gwyne to starve to—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait and hear me through, can’t you! I reckon that when he + resolved to fight, himself, he thought he might get killed and not + have a chance to forgive me any more in this life, so he made the will + again, and I’ve seen it, and it’s all right. + But—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank goodness, den we’s safe ag’in!—safe! + en so what did you want to come here en talk sich + dreadful—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold <i>on</i>, I tell you, and let me finish. The swag I + gathered won’t half square me up, and the first thing we know, my + creditors—well, you know what’ll happen.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> + Roxana dropped her chin, and told her son to leave her alone—she + must think this matter out. Presently she said impressively: + </p> + <p> + “You got to go mighty keerful now, I tell you! En here’s + what you got to do. He didn’t git killed, en if you gives him de + least reason, he’ll bust de will ag’in, en dat’s de + <i>las’</i> time, now you hear me! So—you’s got to + show him what you kin do in de nex’ few days. You’s got to be + pison good, en let him see it; you got to do everything dat’ll + make him b’lieve in you, en you got to sweeten aroun’ + ole Aunt Pratt, too,—she’s pow’ful strong wid de + Jedge, en de bes’ frien’ you got. Nex’, you’ll + go ’long away to Sent Louis, en dat’ll <i>keep</i> him in + yo’ favor. Den you go en make a bargain wid dem people. You tell + ’em he ain’t gwyne to live long—en dat’s de + fac’, too,—en tell ’em you’ll pay ’em + intrust, en big intrust, too,—ten per—what you call it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten per cent. a month?” + </p> + <p> + “Dat’s it. Den you take and sell yo’ truck aroun’, + a little at a time, en pay de intrust. How long will it + las’?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> + “I think there’s enough to pay the interest five or six + months.” + </p> + <p> + “Den you’s all right. If he don’t die in six months, + dat don’t make no diff’rence—Providence’ll + provide. You’s gwyne to be safe—if you + behaves.” She bent an austere eye on him and added, + “En you <i>is</i> gwyne to behave—does you know dat?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed and said he was going to try, anyway. She did not unbend. She + said gravely: + </p> + <p> + “Tryin’ ain’t de thing. You’s gwyne to + <i>do</i> it. You ain’t gwyne to steal a + pin—’ca’se it ain’t safe no mo’; + en you ain’t gwyne into no bad comp’ny—not even + once, you understand; en you ain’t gwyne to drink a + drop—nary single drop; en you ain’t gwyne to gamble + one single gamble—not one! Dis ain’t what you’s + gwyne to <i>try</i> to do, it’s what you’s gwyne to + <i>do</i>. En I’ll tell you how I knows it. Dis is how. + I’s gwyne to foller along to Sent Louis my own self; + en you’s gwyne to come to me every day o’ yo’ life, + en I’ll look you over; en if you fails in one single one + o’ dem things—jist <i>one</i>—I take my oath + I’ll + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span> + come straight down to dis town en tell de Jedge you’s a nigger en a + slave—en <i>prove</i> it!” She paused to let her words sink + home. Then she added, “Chambers, does you b’lieve me when I + says dat?” + </p> + <p> + Tom was sober enough now. There was no levity in his voice when he + answered: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother, I know, now, that I am reformed—and permanently. + Permanently—and beyond the reach of any human temptation.” + </p> + <p> + “Den g’ long home en begin!” + </p> + <hr /> + + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER XV.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">The Robber Robbed.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Nothing so needs reforming as other people’s + habits.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Behold, the fool saith, “Put not all thine eggs in the one + basket”—which is but a manner of saying, “Scatter your + money and your attention;” but the wise man saith, “Put all + your eggs in the one basket and—<span class="smcap">watch that + basket</span>”<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">What</span> a time of it Dawson’s Landing was + having! All its life it had been asleep, but now it hardly got a chance + for a nod, so swiftly did big events and crashing surprises come along + in one another’s wake: Friday morning, first glimpse of Real + Nobility, also grand reception at Aunt Patsy Cooper’s, also great + robber-raid; Friday evening, dramatic kicking of the heir of the chief + citizen in presence of four hundred people; Saturday morning, emergence + as practising lawyer of the long-submerged Pudd’nhead Wilson; + Saturday + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> + night, duel between chief citizen and titled stranger. + </p> + <p> + The people took more pride in the duel than in all the other + events put together, perhaps. It was a glory to their town to have such + a thing happen there. In their eyes the principals had reached + the summit of human honor. Everybody paid homage to their names; + their praises were in all mouths. Even the duelists’ + subordinates came in for a handsome share of the public + approbation: wherefore Pudd’nhead Wilson was suddenly + become a man of consequence. When asked to run for the mayoralty + Saturday night he was risking defeat, but Sunday morning found + him a made man and his success assured. + </p> + <p> + The twins were prodigiously great, now; the town took them to its bosom + with enthusiasm. Day after day, and night after night, they went dining + and visiting from house to house, making friends, enlarging and + solidifying their popularity, and charming and surprising all with their + musical prodigies, and now and then heightening the effects with samples + of what they could do in other directions, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> + out of their stock of rare and curious accomplishments. They were so + pleased that they gave the regulation thirty days’ notice, the + required preparation for citizenship, and resolved to finish their days + in this pleasant place. That was the climax. The delighted community + rose as one man and applauded; and when the twins were asked to stand + for seats in the forthcoming aldermanic board, and consented, the + public contentment was rounded and complete. + </p> + <p> + Tom Driscoll was not happy over these things; they sunk deep, and hurt all + the way down. He hated the one twin for kicking him, and the other one for + being the kicker’s brother. + </p> + <p> + Now and then the people wondered why nothing was heard of the raider, or + of the stolen knife or the other plunder, but nobody was able to throw any + light on that matter. Nearly a week had drifted by, and still the thing + remained a vexed mystery. + </p> + <p> + On Saturday Constable Blake and Pudd’nhead Wilson met on the street, + and Tom Driscoll joined them in time to open their + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> + conversation for them. He said to Blake—“You are not looking + well, Blake; you seem to be annoyed about something. Has anything gone + wrong in the detective business? I believe you fairly and justifiably + claim to have a pretty good reputation in that line, isn’t it + so?”—which made Blake feel good, and look it; but Tom added, + “for a country detective”—which made Blake feel the + other way, and not only look it, but betray it in his voice— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I <i>have</i> got a reputation; and it’s as good + as anybody’s in the profession, too, country or no country.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I beg pardon; I didn’t mean any offense. What I + started out to ask was only about the old woman that raided the + town—the stoop-shouldered old woman, you know, that you said you + were going to catch; and I knew you would, too, because you have the + reputation of never boasting, and—well, you—you’ve + caught the old woman?” + </p> + <p> + “D——— the old woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sho! you don’t mean to say you haven’t + caught her?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> + “No; I haven’t caught her. If anybody could have caught her, + I could; but nobody couldn’t, I don’t care who he is.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, real sorry—for your sake; because, when it + gets around that a detective has expressed himself so confidently, + and then—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you worry, that’s all—don’t you + worry; and as for the town, the town needn’t worry, either. + She’s my meat—make yourself easy about that. I’m + on her track; I’ve got clues that—” + </p> + <p> + “That’s good! Now if you could get an old veteran detective + down from St. Louis to help you find out what the clues mean, and + where they lead to, and then—” + </p> + <p> + “I’m plenty veteran enough myself, and I don’t need + anybody’s help. I’ll have her inside of a we—inside + of a month. That I’ll swear to!” + </p> + <p> + Tom said carelessly— + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that will answer—yes, that will answer. + But I reckon she is pretty old, and old people don’t often + outlive the cautious pace of the professional detective when + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> + he + has got his clues together and is out on his still-hunt.” + </p> + <p> + Blake’s dull face flushed under this gibe, but before he + could set his retort in order Tom had turned to Wilson, and was + saying, with placid indifference of manner and voice— + </p> + <p> + “Who got the reward, Pudd’nhead?” + </p> + <p> + Wilson winced slightly, and saw that his own turn was come. + </p> + <p> + “What reward?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the reward for the thief, + and the other one for the knife.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson answered—and rather uncomfortably, to judge by his hesitating + fashion of delivering himself— + </p> + <p> + “Well, the—well, in fact, nobody has claimed it yet.” + </p> + <p> + Tom seemed surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Why, is that so?” + </p> + <p> + Wilson showed a trifle of irritation when he replied— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s so. And what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing. Only I thought you had struck out a new idea, + and invented a scheme that was going to revolutionize the time-worn + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> + and ineffectual methods of the—” He stopped, and + turned to Blake, who was happy now that another had taken his + place on the gridiron: “Blake, didn’t you understand him + to intimate that it wouldn’t be necessary for you to hunt + the old woman down?” + </p> + <p> + “B’George, he said he’d have thief and swag both + inside of three days—he did, by hokey! and that’s just + about a week ago. Why, I said at the time that no thief and no + thief’s pal was going to try to pawn or sell a thing where + he knowed the pawnbroker could get both rewards by taking + <i>him</i> into camp <i>with</i> the swag. It was the blessedest idea + that ever <i>I</i> struck!” + </p> + <p> + “You’d change your mind,” said Wilson, with + irritated bluntness, “if you knew the entire scheme + instead of only part of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the constable, pensively, “I had the idea + that it wouldn’t work, and up to now I’m right anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then, let it stand at that, and give it a further + show. It has worked at least as well as your own methods, + you perceive.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> + The constable hadn’t anything handy to hit back with, + so he discharged a discontented sniff, and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + After the night that Wilson had partly revealed his scheme at his house, + Tom had tried for several days to guess out the secret of the rest of it, + but had failed. Then it occurred to him to give Roxana’s smarter + head a chance at it. He made up a supposititious case, and laid it before + her. She thought it over, and delivered her verdict upon it. Tom said to + himself, “She’s hit it, sure!” He thought he would + test that verdict, now, and watch Wilson’s face; + so he said reflectively— + </p> + <p> + “Wilson, you’re not a fool—a fact of recent discovery. + Whatever your scheme was, it had sense in it, Blake’s opinion to + the contrary notwithstanding. I don’t ask you to reveal it, but I + will suppose a case—a case which will answer as a + starting-point for the real thing I am going to come at, and that’s + all I want. You offered five hundred dollars for the knife, and five + hundred for the thief. We will suppose, for argument’s sake, that + the first reward is <i>advertised</i> and the second + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> + offered by <i>private letter</i> to pawnbrokers and—” + </p> + <p> + Blake slapped his thigh, and cried out— + </p> + <p> + “By Jackson, he’s got you, Pudd’nhead! Now why + couldn’t I or <i>any</i> fool have thought of that?” + </p> + <p> + Wilson said to himself, “Anybody with a reasonably good head + would have thought of it. I am not surprised that Blake didn’t + detect it; I am only surprised that Tom did. There is more to him than I + supposed.” He said nothing aloud, and Tom went on: + </p> + <p> + “Very well. The thief would not suspect that there was a trap, + and he would bring or send the knife, and say he bought it for a song, + or found it in the road, or something like that, and try to collect the + reward, and be arrested—wouldn’t he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “I think so,” said Tom. “There can’t be any + doubt of it. Have you ever seen that knife?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Has any friend of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span> + “Well, I begin to think I understand why your scheme failed.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Tom? What are you driving at?” + asked Wilson, with a dawning sense of discomfort. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that there <i>isn’t</i> any such knife.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Wilson,” said Blake, + “Tom Driscoll’s right, for a thousand + dollars—if I had it.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson’s blood warmed a little, and he wondered if he had been + played upon by those strangers; it certainly had something of that + look. But what could they gain by it? He threw out that suggestion. + Tom replied: + </p> + <p> + “Gain? Oh, nothing that you would value, maybe. But they + are strangers making their way in a new community. Is it nothing to + them to appear as pets of an Oriental prince—at no expense? + Is it nothing to them to be able to dazzle this poor little town with + thousand-dollar rewards—at no expense? Wilson, there isn’t + any such knife, or your scheme would have fetched it to light. Or if + there is any such knife, they’ve got it yet. I believe, myself, + that they’ve seen such a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> + knife, for Angelo pictured it out with his pencil too swiftly and + handily for him to have been inventing it, and of course I can’t + swear that they’ve never had it; but this I’ll go bail + for—if they had it when they came to this town, + they’ve got it yet.” + </p> + <p> + Blake said— + </p> + <p> + “It looks mighty reasonable, the way Tom puts it; it + most certainly does.” + </p> + <p> + Tom responded, turning to leave— + </p> + <p> + “You find the old woman, Blake, and if she can’t furnish + the knife, go and search the twins!” + </p> + <p> + Tom sauntered away. Wilson felt a good deal depressed. He hardly knew what + to think. He was loath to withdraw his faith from the twins, and was + resolved not to do it on the present indecisive evidence; but—well, + he would think, and then decide how to act. + </p> + <p> + “Blake, what do you think of this matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Pudd’nhead, I’m bound to say I put it up + the way Tom does. They hadn’t the knife; or if they had it, + they’ve got it yet.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> + The men parted. Wilson said to himself: + </p> + <p> + “I believe they had it; if it had been stolen, the scheme + would have restored it, that is certain. And so I believe + they’ve got it yet.” + </p> + <p> + Tom had no purpose in his mind when he encountered those two men. When he + began his talk he hoped to be able to gall them a little and get a trifle + of malicious entertainment out of it. But when he left, he left in great + spirits, for he perceived that just by pure luck and no troublesome labor + he had accomplished several delightful things: he had touched both men on + a raw spot and seen them squirm; he had modified Wilson’s + sweetness for the twins with one small bitter taste that he wouldn’t + be able to get out of his mouth right away; and, best of all, he had taken + the hated twins down a peg with the community; for Blake would gossip + around freely, after the manner of detectives, and within a week the town + would be laughing at them in its sleeve for offering a gaudy reward for a + bauble which they either never possessed or hadn’t lost. Tom was + very well satisfied with himself. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> + Tom’s behavior at home had been perfect during the entire week. + His uncle and aunt had seen nothing like it before. They could find no + fault with him anywhere. + </p> + <p> + Saturday evening he said to the Judge— + </p> + <p> + “I’ve had something preying on my mind, uncle, and as I am + going away, and might never see you again, I can’t bear it any + longer. I made you believe I was afraid to fight that Italian adventurer. + I had to get out of it on some pretext or other, and maybe I chose badly, + being taken unawares, but no honorable person could consent to meet him + in the field, knowing what I knew about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed? What was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Count Luigi is a confessed assassin.” + </p> + <p> + “Incredible!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s perfectly true. Wilson detected it in his hand, + by palmistry, and charged him with it, and cornered him up so close + that he had to confess; but both twins begged us on their knees to + keep the secret, and swore they would lead straight lives here; and + it was all so pitiful that we gave our word of honor never to expose + them while they kept that + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> + promise. You would have done it yourself, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my boy; I would. A man’s secret is + still his own property, and sacred, when it has been surprised out of + him like that. You did well, and I am proud of you.” Then he + added mournfully, “But I wish I could have been saved the + shame of meeting an assassin on the field of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “It couldn’t be helped, uncle. If I had known you were + going to challenge him I should have felt obliged to sacrifice + my pledged word in order to stop it, but Wilson couldn’t be + expected to do otherwise than keep silent.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; Wilson did right, and is in no way to blame. Tom, + Tom, you have lifted a heavy load from my heart; I was stung + to the very soul when I seemed to have discovered that I had + a coward in my family.” + </p> + <p> + “You may imagine what it cost <i>me</i> to assume such a part, + uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know it, poor boy, I know it. And I can understand how + much it has cost you to remain under that unjust stigma to this time. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> + But it is all right now, and no harm is done. You have restored my + comfort of mind, and with it your own; and both of us had + suffered enough.” + </p> + <p> + The old man sat awhile plunged in thought; then he looked up with a + satisfied light in his eye, and said: “That this assassin + should have put the affront upon me of letting me meet him on the + field of honor as if he were a gentleman is a matter which I will + presently settle—but not now. I will not shoot him until + after election. I see a way to ruin them both before; I will attend + to that first. Neither of them shall be elected, that I promise. + You are sure that the fact that he is an assassin has not got + abroad?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly certain of it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be a good card. I will fling a hint at it from + the stump on the polling-day. It will sweep the ground from + under both of them.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s not a doubt of it. It will finish them.” + </p> + <p> + “That and outside work among the voters will, to a certainty. + I want you to come + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> + down here by and by and work privately among the rag-tag and bobtail. + You shall spend money among them; I will furnish it.” + </p> + <p> + Another point scored against the detested twins! Really it was a great day + for Tom. He was encouraged to chance a parting shot, now, at the same + target, and did it. + </p> + <p> + “You know that wonderful Indian knife that the twins have been + making such a to-do about? Well, there’s no track or trace of it + yet; so the town is beginning to sneer and gossip and laugh. Half the + people believe they never had any such knife, the other half believe + they had it and have got it still. I’ve heard twenty people + talking like that to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, Tom’s blemishless week had restored him to the favor + of his aunt and uncle. + </p> + <p> + His mother was satisfied with him, too. Privately, she believed she was + coming to love him, but she did not say so. She told him to go along to + St. Louis, now, and she would get ready and follow. Then she smashed her + whisky bottle and said— + </p> + <p> + “Dah now! I’s a-gwyne to make you + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> + walk as straight as a string, Chambers, en so I’s bown’ you + ain’t gwyne to git no bad example out o’ yo’ mammy. I + tole you you couldn’t go into no bad comp’ny. Well, + you’s gwyne into my comp’ny, en I’s gwyne to + fill de bill. Now, den, trot along, trot along!” + </p> + <p> + Tom went aboard one of the big transient boats that night with his heavy + satchel of miscellaneous plunder, and slept the sleep of the unjust, which + is serener and sounder than the other kind, as we know by the hanging-eve + history of a million rascals. But when he got up in the morning, luck was + against him again: A brother-thief had robbed him while he slept, and gone + ashore at some intermediate landing. + </p> + <hr /> + + + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Sold Down the River.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he + will not bite you. This is the principal difference between + a dog and a man.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + We know all about the habits of the ant, we know all about + the habits of the bee, but we know nothing at all about the + habits of the oyster. It seems almost certain that we have + been choosing the wrong time for studying the + oyster.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">When</span> Roxana arrived, she found her son in such + despair and misery that her heart was touched and her motherhood rose up + strong in her. He was ruined past hope, now; his destruction would be + immediate and sure, and he would be an outcast and friendless. That was + reason enough for a mother to love a child; so she loved him, and told him + so. It made him wince, secretly—for she was a “nigger.” + That he was one himself was far from reconciling him to that despised + race. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> + Roxana poured out endearments upon him, to which he responded + uncomfortably, but as well as he could. And she tried to comfort him, but + that was not possible. These intimacies quickly became horrible to him, + and within the hour he began to try to get up courage enough to tell her + so, and require that they be discontinued or very considerably modified. + But he was afraid of her; and besides, there came a lull, now, for she had + begun to think. She was trying to invent a saving plan. Finally she + started up, and said she had found a way out. Tom was almost suffocated by + the joy of this sudden good news. Roxana said: + </p> + <p> + + “Here is de plan, en she’ll win, sure. I’s a nigger, + en nobody ain’t gwyne to doubt it dat hears me talk. I’s + wuth six hund’d dollahs. Take en sell me, en pay off dese + gamblers.” + </p> + <p> + Tom was dazed. He was not sure he had heard aright. He was dumb for a + moment; then he said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you would be sold into slavery to save me?” + </p> + <p> + “Ain’t you my chile? En does you know + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> + anything dat a + mother won’t do for her chile? Day ain’t nothin’ a + white mother won’t do for her chile. Who made ’em so? De + Lord done it. En who made de niggers? De Lord made ’em. In + de inside, mothers is all de same. De good Lord he made ’em so. + I’s gwyne to be sole into slavery, en in a year you’s gwyne + to buy yo’ ole mammy free ag’in. I’ll show you how. + Dat’s de plan.” + </p> + <p> + Tom’s hopes began to rise, and his spirits along with them. + He said— + </p> + <p> + “It’s lovely of you, mammy—it’s just—” + </p> + <p> + “Say it ag’in! En keep on sayin’ + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Changed ? to !">it!</ins> + It’s all de pay a body kin want in dis worl’, en it’s + mo’ den enough. Laws bless you, honey, when I’s slavin’ + aroun’, en dey ’buses me, if I knows you’s + a-sayin’ dat, ’way off yonder somers, it’ll heal up all + de sore places, en I kin stan’ ’em.” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>do</i> say it again, mammy, and I’ll keep on + saying it, too. But how am I going to sell you? + You’re free, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Much diff’rence dat make! White folks ain’t + partic’lar. De law kin sell me now if dey tell me to leave de State + in six months + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> + en I don’t go. You draw up a paper—bill + o’ sale—en put it ’way off yonder, down in de middle + o’ Kaintuck somers, en sign some names to it, en say you’ll + sell me cheap ’ca’se you’s hard up; you’ll find + you ain’t gwyne to have no trouble. You take me up de country a + piece, en sell me on a farm; dem people ain’t gwyne to ask no + questions if I’s a bargain.” + </p> + <p> + Tom forged a bill of sale and sold his mother to an Arkansas + cotton-planter for a trifle over six hundred dollars. He did not want to + commit this treachery, but luck threw the man in his way, and this saved + him the necessity of going up country to hunt up a purchaser, with the + added risk of having to answer a lot of questions, whereas this planter + was so pleased with Roxy that he asked next to none at all. Besides, the + planter insisted that Roxy wouldn’t know where she was, at first, + and that by the time she found out she would already have become + contented. And Tom argued with himself that it was an immense advantage + for Roxy to have a master who was so pleased with + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span> + her, as this planter manifestly was. In almost no time his flowing + reasonings carried him to the point of even half believing he was + doing Roxy a splendid surreptitious service in selling her “down + the river.” And then he kept diligently saying to himself all the + time: “It’s for only a year. In a year I buy her free again; + she’ll keep that in mind, and it’ll reconcile her.” + Yes; the little deception could do no harm, and everything would come + out right and pleasant in the end, any way. By agreement, the + conversation in Roxy’s presence was all about the man’s + “upcountry” farm, and how pleasant a place it was, and how + happy the slaves were there; so poor Roxy was entirely deceived; and + easily, for she was not dreaming that her own son could be guilty of + treason to a mother who, in voluntarily going into slavery—slavery + of any kind, mild or severe, or of any duration, brief or long—was + making a sacrifice for him compared with which death would have been a + poor and commonplace one. She lavished tears and loving caresses upon + him privately, and then went away with + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> + her owner—went away broken-hearted, and yet proud of what she was + doing, and glad it was in her power to do it. + </p> + <p> + Tom squared his accounts, and resolved to keep to the very letter of his + reform, and never to put that will in jeopardy again. He had three hundred + dollars left. According to his mother’s plan, he was to put that + safely away, and add her half of his pension to it monthly. In one year + this fund would buy her free again. + </p> + <p> + For a whole week he was not able to sleep well, so much the villainy which + he had played upon his trusting mother preyed upon his rag of a + conscience; but after that he began to get comfortable again, and was + presently able to sleep like any other miscreant. + </p> + <hr class="break" /> + <p> + The boat bore Roxy away from St. Louis at four in the afternoon, and she + stood on the lower guard abaft the paddle-box and watched Tom through a + blur of tears until he melted into the throng of people and disappeared; + then she looked no more, but + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> + sat there on a coil of cable crying till far into the night. When she + went to her foul steerage-bunk at last, between the clashing engines, + it was not to sleep, but only to wait for the morning, and, waiting, + grieve. + </p> + <p> + It had been imagined that she “would not know,” and + would think she was traveling up stream. She! Why, she had been + steamboating for years. At dawn she got up and went listlessly and + sat down on the cable-coil again. She passed many a snag whose + “break” could have told her a thing to break her + heart, for it showed a current moving in the same direction that + the boat was going; but her thoughts were elsewhere, and she did + not notice. But at last the roar of a bigger and nearer break than + usual brought her out of her torpor, and she looked up, and her + practised eye fell upon that telltale rush of water. For one + moment her petrified gaze fixed itself there. Then her head dropped + upon her breast, and she said— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, de good Lord God have mercy on po’ sinful + me—<i>I’s sole down de river!</i>” + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">The Judge Utters Dire Prophecy.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Even popularity can be overdone. In Rome, along at first, + you are full of regrets that Michelangelo died; but by and + by you only regret that you didn’t see him do + it.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + <i>July 4</i>. Statistics show that we lose more fools on this day + than in all the other days of the year put together. This + proves, by the number left in stock, that one Fourth of July + per year is now inadequate, the country has grown + so.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">The</span> summer weeks dragged by, and then the + political campaign opened—opened in pretty warm fashion, and waxed + hotter and hotter daily. The twins threw themselves into it with their + whole heart, for their self-love was engaged. Their popularity, so general + at first, had suffered afterward; mainly because they had been + <i>too</i> popular, and so a natural reaction had followed. Besides, + it had been diligently whispered around that it + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span> + was curious—indeed, <i>very</i> curious—that that wonderful + knife of theirs did not turn up—<i>if</i> it was so valuable, + or <i>if</i> it had ever existed. And with the whisperings went + chucklings and nudgings and winks, and such things have an effect. + The twins considered that success in the election would reinstate them, + and that defeat would work them irreparable damage. Therefore they + worked hard, but not harder than Judge Driscoll and Tom worked against + them in the closing days of the canvas. Tom’s conduct had remained + so letter-perfect during two whole months, now, that his uncle not only + trusted him with money with which to persuade voters, but trusted him to + go and get it himself out of the safe in the private sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + The closing speech of the campaign was made by Judge Driscoll, + and he made it against both of the foreigners. It was disastrously + effective. He poured out rivers of ridicule upon them, and forced + the big mass-meeting to laugh and applaud. He scoffed at them as + adventurers, mountebanks, side-show riff-raff, dime museum freaks; + he assailed + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span> + their showy titles with measureless derision; he said + they were back-alley barbers disguised as nobilities, + peanut peddlers masquerading as gentlemen, organ-grinders bereft + of their brother monkey. At last he stopped and stood still. He + waited until the place had become absolutely silent and expectant, + then he delivered his deadliest shot; delivered it + with ice-cold seriousness and deliberation, with a significant + emphasis upon the closing words: he said that he believed that + the reward offered for the lost knife was humbug and buncombe, + and that its owner would know where to find it whenever he + should have occasion <i>to assassinate somebody</i>. + </p> + <p> + Then he stepped from the stand, leaving a startled and impressive hush + behind him instead of the customary explosion of cheers and party cries. + </p> + <p> + The strange remark flew far and wide over the town and made an + extraordinary sensation. Everybody was asking, “What could he + mean by that?” And everybody went on asking that question, + but in vain; for the Judge only said he knew what he was talking + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> + about, and stopped there; Tom said he hadn’t any idea what his + uncle meant, and Wilson, whenever he was asked what he thought it meant, + parried the question by asking the questioner what <i>he</i> thought + it meant. + </p> + <p> + Wilson was elected, the twins were defeated—crushed, in fact, and + left forlorn and substantially friendless. Tom went back to St. Louis + happy. + </p> + <p> + Dawson’s Landing had a week of repose, now, and it needed it. + But it was in an expectant state, for the air was full of rumors of + a new duel. Judge Driscoll’s election labors had prostrated him, + but it was said that as soon as he was well enough to entertain a + challenge he would get one from Count Luigi. + </p> + <p> + The brothers withdrew entirely from society, and nursed their humiliation + in privacy. They avoided the people, and went out for exercise only late + at night, when the streets were deserted. + </p> + <hr /> + + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Roxana Commands.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Gratitude and treachery are merely the two extremities of + the same procession. You have seen all of it that is worth + staying for when the band and the gaudy officials have gone + by.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + <i>Thanksgiving Day</i>. Let all give humble, hearty, and + sincere thanks, now, but the turkeys. In the island of Fiji + they do not use turkeys; they use plumbers. It does not + become you and me to sneer at Fiji.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">The</span> Friday after the election was a rainy one + in St. Louis. It rained all day long, and rained hard, apparently trying + its best to wash that soot-blackened town white, but of course not + succeeding. Toward midnight Tom Driscoll arrived at his lodgings from + the theatre in the heavy downpour, and closed his umbrella and let + himself in; but when he would have shut the door, he found that there was + another person entering—doubtless another lodger; this person + closed the door + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> + and tramped up-stairs behind Tom. Tom found his door in the dark, and + entered it and turned up the gas. When he faced about, lightly whistling, + he saw the back of a man. The man was closing and locking his door for + him. His whistle faded out and he felt uneasy. The man turned around, a + wreck of shabby old clothes, sodden with rain and all a-drip, and showed + a black face under an old slouch hat. Tom was frightened. He tried to + order the man out, but the words refused to come, and the other man got + the start. He said, in a low voice— + </p> + <p> + “Keep still—I’s yo’ mother!” + </p> + <p> + Tom sunk in a heap on a chair, and gasped out— + </p> + <p> + “It was mean of me, and base—I know it; but I meant it for + the best, I did indeed—I can swear it.” + </p> + <p> + Roxana stood awhile looking mutely down on him while he writhed in shame + and went on incoherently babbling self-accusations mixed with pitiful + attempts at explanation and palliation of his crime; then she seated + herself and took off her hat, and her unkept masses + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> + of long brown hair tumbled down about her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “It ain’t no fault o’ yo’n dat dat + ain’t gray,” she said sadly, noticing the hair. + </p> + <p> + “I know it, I know it! I’m a scoundrel. But I swear I meant + it for the best. It was a mistake, of course, but I thought it was + for the best, I truly did.” + </p> + <p> + Roxana began to cry softly, and presently words began to find their way + out between her sobs. They were uttered lamentingly, rather than + angrily— + </p> + <p> + “Sell a pusson down de river—<i>down the + river!</i>—for de bes’! I wouldn’t treat a dog so! + I is all broke down en wore out, now, en so I reckon it ain’t in + me to storm aroun’ no mo’, like I used to when I ’uz + trompled on en ’bused. I don’t know—but maybe + it’s so. Leastways, I’s suffered so much dat mournin’ + seem to come mo’ handy to me now den stormin’.” + </p> + <p> + These words should have touched Tom Driscoll, but if they did, that effect + was obliterated by a stronger one—one which removed the heavy weight + of fear which lay upon him, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> + and gave his crushed spirit a most grateful rebound, and filled all his + small soul with a deep sense of relief. But he kept prudently still, and + ventured no comment. There was a voiceless interval of some duration, + now, in which no sounds were heard but the beating of the rain upon the + panes, the sighing and complaining of the winds, and now and then a + muffled sob from Roxana. The sobs became more and more infrequent, and at + last ceased. Then the refugee began to talk again: + </p> + <p> + “Shet down dat light a little. More. More yit. A pusson dat + is hunted don’t like de light. Dah—dat’ll do. I kin see + whah you is, en dat’s enough. I’s gwine to tell you de tale, + en cut it jes as short as I kin, en den I’ll tell you what + you’s got to do. Dat man dat bought me ain’t a bad + man; he’s good enough, as planters goes; en if he could + ’a’ had his way I’d ’a’ be’n a + house servant + in his fambly en be’n comfortable: but his wife she was a Yank, en + not right down good lookin’, en she riz up agin me straight off; so + den dey sent me out to de quarter + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span> + ’mongst de common fiel’ + han’s. Dat woman warn’t satisfied even wid dat, but she + worked up de overseer ag’in’ me, she ’uz dat jealous + en hateful; so de overseer he had me out befo’ day in de + mawnin’s en worked me de whole long day as long as dey ’uz + any light to see by; en many’s de lashin’s I got + ’ca’se I couldn’t come up to de work o’ de + stronges’. Dat overseer wuz a Yank, too, outen New Englan’, en + anybody down South kin tell you what dat mean. <i>Dey</i> knows how to + work a nigger to death, en + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Change day to dey."> + dey</ins> knows how to whale ’em, + too—whale ’em till dey backs is welted like a washboard. + ’Long at fust my marster say de good word for me to de overseer, + but dat ’uz bad for me; for de mistis she fine it out, en arter + dat I jist ketched it at every turn—dey warn’t no mercy for + me no mo’.” + </p> + <p> + Tom’s heart was fired—with fury + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Change 'against to against."> + against</ins> the planter’s wife; and he said to himself, + “But for that meddlesome fool, everything would have gone + all right.” He added a deep and bitter curse against her. + </p> + <p> + The expression of this sentiment was fiercely written in his face, and + stood thus revealed to + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> + Roxana by a white glare of lightning which turned + the somber dusk of the room into dazzling day at that moment. She was + pleased—pleased and grateful; for did not that expression show that + her child was capable of grieving for his mother’s wrongs and of + feeling resentment toward her persecutors?—a thing which she had + been doubting. But her flash of happiness was only a flash, and went out + again and left her spirit dark; for she said to herself, “He sole + me down de river—he can’t feel for a body long: dis’ll + pass en go.” Then she took up her tale again. + </p> + <p> + “’Bout ten days ago I ’uz sayin’ to myself dat + I couldn’t las’ many mo’ weeks I ’uz so wore out + wid de awful work en de lashin’s, en so downhearted en misable. En + I didn’t care no mo’, nuther—life warn’t + wuth noth’n’ to me, if I got to go on like dat. Well, when + a body is in a frame o’ mine like dat, what do a body care what a + body do? Dey was a little sickly nigger wench ’bout ten year ole + dat ’uz good to me, en hadn’t no mammy, po’ thing, en + I loved her en she loved me; en she come out whah I ’uz + workin ’en she had + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> + a roasted tater, en tried to slip it to me,—robbin’ herself, + you see, ’ca’se she knowed de overseer didn’t gimme + enough to eat,—en he ketched her at it, en give her a lick acrost + de back wid his stick, which ’uz as thick as a broom-handle, en + she drop’ screamin’ on de groun’, en squirmin’ + en wallerin’ aroun’ in de dust like a spider dat’s + got crippled. I couldn’t stan’ it. All de hell-fire dat + ’uz ever in my heart flame’ up, en I snatch de stick outen + his han’ en laid him flat. He laid dah moanin’ en + cussin’, en all out of his head, you know, en de niggers ’uz + plumb sk’yred to death. Dey gathered roun’ him to + he’p him, en I jumped on his hoss en took out for de river + as tight as I could go. I knowed what dey would do wid me. Soon as he got + well he would start in en work me to death if marster let him; en if + dey didn’t do dat, they’d sell me furder down de river, + en dat’s de same thing. So I ’lowed to drown myself en git + out o’ my troubles. It ’uz gitt’n’ towards dark. + I ’uz at de river in two minutes. Den I see a canoe, en I says dey + ain’t no use to drown myself tell I got to; so I ties de hoss in de + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> + edge o’ de timber en shove out down de river, keepin’ in + under de shelter o’ de bluff bank en prayin’ for de dark to + shet down quick. I had a pow’ful good start, ’ca’se de + big house ’uz three mile back f’om de river en on’y de + work-mules to ride dah on, en on’y niggers to ride ’em, en + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Change day to dey."><i>dey</i></ins> + warn’t gwine to hurry—dey’d gimme all de + chance dey could. Befo’ a body could go to de house en back it + would be long pas’ dark, en dey couldn’t track de + hoss en fine out which way I went tell mawnin’, en de niggers + would tell ’em all de lies dey could ’bout it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, de dark come, en I went on a-spinnin’ down de river. + I paddled mo’n two hours, den I warn’t worried no mo’, + so I quit paddlin, en floated down de current, considerin’ + what I ’uz gwine to do if I didn’t have to drown myself. I + made up some plans, en floated along, turnin’ ’em over in my + mine. Well, when it ’uz a little pas’ midnight, as I reckoned, + en I had come fifteen or twenty mile, I see de lights o’ a steamboat + layin’ at de bank, whah dey warn’t no town en no woodyard, + en putty soon I ketched de shape + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span> + o’ de chimbly-tops ag’in’ de stars, en + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Change de to den."> + den</ins> + good + gracious me, I ’most jumped out o’ my skin for joy! It + ’uz de <i>Gran’ Mogul</i>—I ’uz chambermaid on her + for eight seasons in de Cincinnati en Orleans trade. I slid ’long + pas’—don’t see nobody stirrin’ nowhah—hear + ’em a-hammerin’ away in de engine-room, den I knowed what de + matter was—some o’ de machinery’s broke. I got + asho’ below de boat and turn’ de canoe loose, den I goes + ’long up, en dey ’uz jes one plank out, en I step’ + ’board de boat. It ’uz pow’ful hot, deckhan’s en + roustabouts ’uz sprawled aroun’ asleep on de + fo’cas’l’, de second mate, Jim Bangs, he sot dah on de + bitts wid his head down, asleep—’ca’se dat’s de + way de second mate stan’ de cap’n’s watch!—en de + ole watchman, Billy Hatch, he ’uz a-noddin’ on de + companionway;—en I knowed ’em all; ’en, lan’, + but dey did look good! I says to myself, I wished old marster’d + come along <i>now</i> en try to take me—bless yo’ + heart, I’s ’mong frien’s, I is. So I tromped right + along ’mongst ’em, en went up on de b’iler deck en + ’way back aft to de ladies’ cabin guard, en sot down dah in + de + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span> + same cheer dat I’d sot in ’mos’ a hund’d + million times, I reckon; en it ’uz jist home ag’in, + I tell you! + </p> + <p> + “In ’bout an hour I heard de ready-bell jingle, en den de + racket begin. Putty soon I hear de gong strike. ‘Set her back on + de outside,’ I says to myself—‘I reckon I knows dat + music!’ I hear de gong ag’in. ‘Come ahead on + de inside,’ I says. Gong ag’in. ‘Stop de outside.’ + Gong ag’in. ‘Come ahead on de outside—now we’s + pinted for Sent Louis, en I’s outer de woods en ain’t got to + drown myself at all.’ I knowed de <i>Mogul</i> ’uz in de Sent + Louis trade now, you see. It ’uz jes fair daylight when we passed + our plantation, en I seed a gang o’ niggers en white folks + huntin’ up en down de sho’, en troublin’ deyselves a + good deal ’bout me; but I warn’t troublin’ myself + none ’bout dem. + </p> + <p> + + “’Bout dat time Sally Jackson, dat used to be my second + chambermaid en ’uz head chambermaid now, she come out on de guard, + en ’uz pow’ful glad to see me, en so ’uz all de + officers; en I tole ’em I’d got kidnapped en sole down de + river, en dey made me up + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span> + twenty dollahs en give it to me, en Sally + she rigged me out wid good clo’es, en when I got here I went + straight to whah you used to wuz, en den I come to dis house, en dey say + you’s away but ’spected back every day; so I didn’t + dast to go down de river to Dawson’s, ’ca’se I might + miss you. + </p> + <p> + “Well, las’ Monday I ’uz pass’n’ + by one o’ dem places in Fourth street whah deh sticks up + runaway-nigger bills, en he’ps to ketch ’em, en I + seed my marster! I ’mos’ flopped down on de + groun’, I felt so gone. He had his back to me, en + ’uz talkin’ to de man en givin’ him some + bills—nigger-bills, I reckon, en I’se de nigger. + He’s offerin’ a reward—dat’s it. + Ain’t I right, don’t you reckon?” + </p> + <p> + Tom had been gradually sinking into a state of ghastly terror, and he said + to himself, now: “I’m lost, no matter what turn things + take! This man has said to me that he thinks there was something + suspicious about that sale. He said he had a letter from a passenger on + the <i>Grand Mogul</i> saying that Roxy came here on that boat and that + everybody on board knew all about the case; so + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span> + he says that her coming here instead of flying to a free State looks bad + for me, and that if I don’t find her for him, and that pretty soon, + he will make trouble for me. I never believed that story; I couldn’t + believe she would be so dead to all motherly instincts as to come here, + knowing the risk she would run of getting me into irremediable trouble. + And after all, here she is! And I stupidly swore I would help him find + her, thinking it was a perfectly safe thing to promise. If I venture to + deliver her up, she—she—but how can I help myself? I’ve + got to do that or pay the money, and where’s the money to come from? + I—I—well, I should think that if he would swear to treat her + kindly hereafter—and she says, herself, that he is a good + man—and if he would swear to never allow her to be overworked, + or ill fed, or—” + </p> + <p> + A flash of lightning exposed Tom’s pallid face, drawn and rigid + with these worrying thoughts. Roxana spoke up sharply now, and there + was apprehension in her voice— + </p> + <p> + “Turn up dat light! I want to see yo’ face better. + Dah now—lemme look at you. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span> + Chambers, you’s as white as + yo’ shirt! Has you see dat man? Has he be’n to + see you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-s.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “Monday noon.” + </p> + <p> + “Monday noon! Was he on my track?” + </p> + <p> + “He—well, he thought he was. That is, he hoped he was. + This is the bill you saw.” He took it out of his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Read it to me!” + </p> + <p> + + She was panting with excitement, and there was a dusky glow in her eyes + that Tom could not translate with certainty, but there seemed to be + something threatening about it. The handbill had the usual rude woodcut of + a turbaned negro woman running, with the customary bundle on a stick over + her shoulder, and the heading in bold type, “$100 + <span class="smcap">Reward.</span>” Tom read the bill aloud—at + least the part that described Roxana and named the master and his St. + Louis address and the address of the Fourth-street agency; but he left out + the item that applicants for the reward might also apply to Mr. + Thomas Driscoll. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span> + “Gimme de bill!” + </p> + <p> + Tom had folded it and was putting it in his pocket. He felt a chilly + streak creeping down his back, but said as carelessly as he could— + </p> + <p> + “The bill? Why, it isn’t any use to you, you can’t + read it. What do you want with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Gimme de bill!” Tom gave it to her, but with a reluctance + which he could not entirely disguise. “Did you read it + <i>all</i> to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Hole up yo’ han’ en swah to it.” + </p> + <p> + Tom did it. Roxana put the bill carefully away in her pocket, with her + eyes fixed upon Tom’s face all the while; then she said— + </p> + <p> + “Yo’s lyin’!” + </p> + <p> + “What would I want to lie about it for?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know—but you is. Dat’s my opinion, + anyways. But nemmine ’bout dat. When I seed dat man I ’uz + dat sk’yerd dat I could sca’cely wobble home. Den I give a + nigger man a dollar for dese clo’es, en I ain’t be’n + in a house sence, night ner day, till now. I blacked my face en laid + hid in de cellar of a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> + ole house dat’s burnt down, + daytimes, en robbed de sugar hogsheads en grain sacks on de + wharf, nights, to git somethin’ to eat, en never dast to try + to buy noth’n’, en I’s ’mos’ starved. + En I never dast to come near dis place till dis rainy night, when + dey ain’t no people roun’ sca’cely. But to-night I + be’n a-stannin’ in de dark alley ever sence + night come, waitin’ for you to go by. En here I is.” + </p> + <p> + She fell to thinking. Presently she said— + </p> + <p> + “You seed dat man at noon, las’ Monday?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I seed him de middle o’ dat arternoon. He + hunted you up, didn’t he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he give you de bill dat time?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he hadn’t got it printed yet.” + </p> + <p> + Roxana darted a suspicious glance at him. + </p> + <p> + “Did you he’p him fix up de bill?” + </p> + <p> + Tom cursed himself for making that stupid blunder, and tried to rectify it + by saying he remembered, now, that it <i>was</i> at noon Monday that the + man gave him the bill. Roxana said— + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> + “You’s lyin’ ag’in, sho.” + Then she straightened up and raised her finger: + </p> + <p> + + “Now den! I’s gwine to ask you a question, en I wants to + know how you’s gwine to git aroun’ it. You knowed he + ’uz arter me; en if you run off, ’stid o’ stayin’ + here to he’p him, he’d know dey ’uz somethin’ + wrong ’bout dis business, en den he would inquire ’bout you, + en dat would take him to yo’ uncle, en yo’ uncle would read + de bill en see dat you be’n sellin’ a free nigger down de + river, en you know <i>him</i>, I reckon! He’d t’ar up de will + en kick you outen de house. Now, den, you answer me dis question: + hain’t you tole dat man dat I would be sho’ to come here, + en den you would fix it so he could set a trap en ketch me?” + </p> + <p> + Tom recognized that neither lies nor arguments could help him any + longer—he was in a vise, with the screw turned on, and out of + it there was no budging. His face began to take on an ugly look, and + presently he said, with a snarl— + </p> + <p> + “Well, what could I do? You see, yourself, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span> + that I was in his grip + and couldn’t get out.” + </p> + <p> + Roxy scorched him with a scornful gaze awhile, then she said— + </p> + <p> + “What could you do? You could be Judas to yo’ own mother + to save yo’ wuthless hide! Would anybody b’lieve it? + No—a dog couldn’t! You is de low-downest orneriest + hound dat was ever pup’d into dis worl’—en + I’s ’sponsible for it!”—and she spat on him. + </p> + <p> + He made no effort to resent this. Roxy reflected a moment, then she + said— + </p> + <p> + “Now I’ll tell you what you’s gwine to do. You’s + gwine to give dat man de money dat you’s got laid up, en make + him wait till you kin go to de Judge en git de res’ en buy me + free agin.” + </p> + <p> + “Thunder! what are you thinking of? Go and ask him for three hundred + dollars and odd? What would I tell him I want with it, pray?” + </p> + <p> + Roxy’s answer was delivered in a serene and level voice— + </p> + <p> + “You’ll tell him you’s sole me to pay yo’ + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> + gamblin’ debts en dat you lied to me en was a villain, + en dat I ’quires you to git dat money en buy me + back ag’in.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you’ve gone stark mad! He would tear the will to shreds + in a minute—don’t you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I does.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don’t believe I’m + idiot enough to go to him, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t b’lieve nothin’ ’bout + it—I <i>knows</i> you’s a-goin’. I knows it + ’ca’se you knows dat if you don’t raise dat + money I’ll go to him myself, en den he’ll sell + <i>you</i> down de river, en you kin see how you like it!” + </p> + <p> + Tom rose, trembling and excited, and there was an evil light in his eye. + He strode to the door and said he must get out of this suffocating place + for a moment and clear his brain in the fresh air so that he could + determine what to do. The door wouldn’t open. Roxy smiled grimly, + and said— + </p> + <p> + “I’s got de key, honey—set down. You needn’t + cle’r up yo’ brain none to fine out what you gwine to + do—<i>I</i> knows what you’s gwine to do.” + Tom sat down and began to pass his + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> + hands through his hair with a helpless and desperate air. Roxy said, + “Is dat man in dis house?” + </p> + <p> + Tom glanced up with a surprised expression, and asked— + </p> + <p> + “What gave you such an idea?” + </p> + <p> + “You done it. Gwine out to cle’r yo’ brain! In de fust + place you ain’t got none to cle’r, en in de second place + yo’ ornery eye tole on you. You’s de low-downest hound dat + ever—but I done tole you dat befo’. Now den, dis is Friday. + You kin fix it up wid dat man, en tell him you’s gwine away to git + de res’ o’ de money, en dat you’ll be back wid it + nex’ Tuesday, or maybe Wednesday. You understan’?” + </p> + <p> + Tom answered sullenly— + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “En when you gits de new bill o’ sale dat sells me to my + own self, take en send it in de mail to Mr. Pudd’nhead Wilson, + en write on de back dat he’s to keep it tell I come. + You understan’?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span> + “Dat’s all den. Take yo’ umbreller, + en put on yo’ hat.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Beca’se you’s gwine to see me home to de wharf. + You see dis knife? I’s toted it aroun’ sence de day I + seed dat man en bought dese clo’es en it. If he ketch me, + I’s gwine to kill myself wid it. Now start along, en go + sof’, en lead de way; en if you gives a sign in dis house, + or if anybody comes up to you in de street, I’s gwine to + jam it right into you. Chambers, does you b’lieve me when + I says dat?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no use to bother me with that question. + I know your word’s good.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s diff’rent from yo’n! Shet de light + out en move along—here’s de key.” + </p> + <p> + They were not followed. Tom trembled every time a late straggler brushed + by them on the street, and half expected to feel the cold steel in his + back. Roxy was right at his heels and always in reach. After tramping a + mile they reached a wide vacancy on the deserted wharves, and in this dark + and rainy desert they parted. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span> + As Tom trudged home his mind was full of dreary thoughts and wild plans; + but at last he said to himself, wearily— + </p> + <p> + “There is but the one way out. I must follow her plan. But + with a variation—I will not ask for the money and ruin myself; + I will <i>rob</i> the old skinflint.” + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">The Prophecy Realized.</p> + <p class="pullquote"> + Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of + a good example.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + It were not best that we should all think alike; it is + difference of opinion that makes horse-races.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">Dawson’s Landing</span> was comfortably + finishing its season of dull repose and waiting patiently for the duel. + Count Luigi was waiting, too; but not patiently, rumor said. Sunday came, + and Luigi insisted on having his challenge conveyed. Wilson carried it. + Judge Driscoll declined to fight with an assassin—“that + is,” he added significantly, “in the field of honor.” + </p> + <p> + Elsewhere, of course, he would be ready. Wilson tried to convince him that + if he had been present himself when Angelo told about the homicide + committed by Luigi, he would not have considered the act discreditable to + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> + Luigi; but the obstinate old man was not to be moved. + </p> + <p> + Wilson went back to his principal and reported the failure of his mission. + Luigi was incensed, and asked how it could be that the old gentleman, who + was by no means dull-witted, held his trifling nephew’s evidence + and inferences to be of more value than Wilson’s. But Wilson + laughed, and said— + </p> + <p> + “That is quite simple; that is easily explicable. I am not his + doll—his baby—his infatuation: his nephew is. The Judge and + his late wife never had any children. The Judge and his wife were past + middle age when this treasure fell into their lap. One must make + allowances for a parental instinct that has been starving for + twenty-five or thirty years. It is famished, it is crazed with hunger + by that time, and will be entirely satisfied with anything that comes + handy; its taste is atrophied, it can’t tell mud-cat from shad. + A devil born to a young couple is measurably recognizable by them as + a devil before long, but a devil adopted by an old couple is an angel + to them, and remains so, through thick + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> + and thin. Tom is this old man’s angel; he is infatuated with him. + Tom can persuade him into things which other people can’t—not + all things; I don’t mean that, but a good many—particularly + one class of things: the things that create or abolish personal + partialities or prejudices in the old man’s mind. The old man liked + both of you. Tom conceived a hatred for you. That was enough; it turned + the old man around at once. The oldest and strongest friendship must go + to the ground when one of these late-adopted darlings throws a brick at + it.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a curious philosophy,” said Luigi. + </p> + <p> + “It ain’t a philosophy at all—it’s a fact. And + there is something pathetic and beautiful about it, too. I think there is + nothing more pathetic than to see one of these poor old childless + couples taking a menagerie of yelping little worthless dogs to their + hearts; and then adding some cursing and squawking parrots and a + jackass-voiced macaw; and next a couple of hundred screeching + song-birds, and presently some fetid guinea-pigs and rabbits, and a + howling colony of cats. It + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span> + is all a groping and ignorant effort to construct out of base metal + and brass filings, so to speak, something to take the place of that + golden treasure denied them by Nature, a child. But this is a digression. + The unwritten law of this region requires you to kill Judge Driscoll on + sight, and he and the community will expect that attention at your + hands—though of course your own death by his bullet will answer + every purpose. Look out for him! Are you heeled—that is, + fixed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he shall have his opportunity. If he attacks me I will + respond.” + </p> + <p> + As Wilson was leaving, he said— + </p> + <p> + “The Judge is still a little used up by his campaign work, + and will not get out for a day or so; but when he does get out, + you want to be on the alert.” + </p> + <p> + About eleven at night the twins went out for exercise, and started on a + long stroll in the veiled moonlight. + </p> + <p> + Tom Driscoll had landed at Hackett’s Store, two miles below + Dawson’s, just about half an hour earlier, the only passenger + for that lonely spot, and had walked up the shore + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> + road and entered Judge Driscoll’s house without having + encountered any one either on the road or under the roof. + </p> + <p> + He pulled down his window-blinds and lighted his candle. He laid + off his coat and hat and began his preparations. He unlocked his + trunk and got his suit of girl’s clothes out from under the + male attire in it, and laid it by. Then he blacked his face with + burnt cork and put the cork in his pocket. His plan was, to slip + down to his uncle’s private sitting-room below, pass into + the bedroom, steal the safe-key from the old gentleman’s + clothes, and then go back and rob the safe. He took up his candle + to start. His courage and confidence were high, up to this point, + but both began to waver a little, now. Suppose he should make a + noise, by some accident, and get caught—say, in the act of + opening the safe? Perhaps it would be well to go armed. He took + the Indian knife from its hiding-place, and felt a pleasant + return of his wandering courage. He slipped stealthily down the + narrow stair, his hair rising and his pulses halting at the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> + slightest creak. When he was half-way down, he was disturbed to + perceive that the landing below was touched by a faint glow of + light. What could that mean? Was his uncle still up? No, that + was not likely; he must have left his night-taper there when he + went to bed. Tom crept on down, + pausing at every step to listen. He found the door standing open, + and glanced in. What he saw pleased him beyond measure. His uncle + was asleep on the sofa; on a small table at the head of the sofa + a lamp was burning low, and by it stood the old man’s small + tin cash-box, closed. Near the box was a pile of bank-notes and a + piece of paper covered with figures in pencil. The safe-door was + not open. Evidently the sleeper had wearied himself with work upon + his finances, and was taking a rest. + </p> + <p> + Tom set his candle on the stairs, and began to make his way toward + the pile of notes, stooping low as he went. When he was passing his + uncle, the old man stirred in his sleep, and Tom stopped + instantly—stopped, and softly drew the knife from its sheath, + with his heart thumping, and his eyes fastened upon + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span> + his + benefactor’s face. After a moment or two he ventured forward + again—one step—reached for his prize and seized it, + dropping the knife-sheath. Then he felt the old man’s + strong grip upon him, and a wild cry of “Help! help!” + rang in his ear. Without hesitation he drove the knife home—and + was free. Some of the notes escaped from his left hand and fell in the + blood on the floor. He dropped the knife and snatched them up and started + to fly; transferred them to his left hand, and seized the knife again, + in his fright and confusion, but remembered himself and flung it from + him, as being a dangerous witness to carry away with him. + </p> + <p> + He jumped for the stair-foot, and closed the door behind him; and as he + snatched his candle and fled upward, the stillness of the night was broken + by the sound of urgent footsteps approaching the house. In another moment + he was in his room and the twins were standing aghast over the body of + the murdered man! + </p> + <p> + Tom put on his coat, buttoned his hat under it, threw on his suit of + girl’s clothes, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span> + dropped the veil, blew out his light, locked the + room door by which he had just entered, taking the key, passed through + his other door into the back hall, locked that door and kept the key, + then worked his way along in the dark and descended the back stairs. + He was not expecting to meet anybody, for all interest was centered + in the other part of the house, now; his calculation proved correct. + By the time he was passing through the back-yard, Mrs. Pratt, her + servants, and a dozen half-dressed neighbors had joined the twins and + the dead, and accessions were still arriving at the front door. + </p> + <p> + As Tom, quaking as with a palsy, passed out at the gate, three women + came flying from the house on the opposite side of the lane. They + rushed by him and in at the gate, asking him what the trouble was + there, but not waiting for an answer. Tom said to himself, + “Those old maids waited to dress—they did the same thing + the night Stevens’s house burned down next door.” In a few + minutes he was in the haunted house. He lighted a candle and took off + his girl-clothes. There + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> + was blood on him all down his left side, and his right hand was red with + the stains of the blood-soaked notes which he had crushed in it; but + otherwise he was free from this sort of evidence. He cleansed his + hand on the straw, and cleaned most of the smut from his face. Then he + burned his male and female attire to ashes, scattered the ashes, and put + on a disguise proper for a tramp. He blew out his light, went below, and + was soon loafing down the river road with the intent to borrow and use one + of Roxy’s devices. He found a canoe and paddled off down-stream, + setting the canoe adrift as dawn approached, and making his way by land to + the next village, where he kept out of sight till a transient steamer came + along, and then took deck passage for St. Louis. He was ill at ease until + Dawson’s Landing was behind him; then he said to himself, + “All the detectives on earth couldn’t trace me now; + there’s not a vestige of a clue left in the world; that homicide + will take its place with the permanent mysteries, and people + won’t get done trying to guess out the secret of it for + fifty years.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> + In St. Louis, next morning, he read this brief telegram in the + papers—dated at Dawson’s Landing: + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + Judge Driscoll, an old and respected citizen, was assassinated + here about midnight by a profligate Italian nobleman or + barber on account of a quarrel growing out of the recent + election. The assassin will probably be lynched. + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + “One of the twins!” soliloquized Tom; “how lucky! + It is the knife that has done him this grace. We never know when fortune + is trying to favor us. I actually cursed Pudd’nhead Wilson in my + heart for putting it out of my power to sell that knife. I take it + back, now.” + </p> + <p> + Tom was now rich and independent. He arranged with the planter, and mailed + to Wilson the new bill of sale which sold Roxana to herself; then he + telegraphed his Aunt Pratt: + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + Have seen the awful news in the papers and am almost + prostrated with grief. Shall start by packet to-day. Try to + bear up till I come. + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + When Wilson reached the house of mourning and had gathered such details as + Mrs. Pratt and the rest of the crowd could tell him, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span> + he took command as mayor, and gave orders that nothing should be touched, + but everything left as it was until Justice Robinson should arrive and + take the proper measures as coroner. He cleared everybody out of the + room but the twins and himself. The sheriff soon arrived and took the + twins away to jail. Wilson told them to keep heart, and promised to do + his best in their defense when the case should come to trial. Justice + Robinson came presently, and with him Constable Blake. They examined the + room thoroughly. They found the knife and the sheath. Wilson noticed that + there were finger-prints on the knife-handle. That pleased him, for the + twins had required the earliest comers to make a scrutiny of their hands + and clothes, and neither these people nor Wilson himself had found any + blood-stains upon them. Could there be a possibility that the twins had + spoken the truth when they said they found the man dead when they ran + into the house in answer to the cry for help? He thought of that + mysterious girl at once. But this was not the sort of work for a girl to + be engaged in. No + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span> + matter; Tom Driscoll’s room must be examined. + </p> + <p> + After the coroner’s jury had viewed the body and its surroundings, + Wilson suggested a search up-stairs, and he went along. The jury forced an + entrance to Tom’s room, but found nothing, of course. + </p> + <p> + The coroner’s jury found that the homicide was committed by Luigi, + and that Angelo was accessory to it. + </p> + <p> + The town was bitter against the unfortunates, and for the first few days + after the murder they were in constant danger of being lynched. The grand + jury presently indicted Luigi for murder in the first degree, and Angelo + as accessory before the fact. The twins were transferred from the city + jail to the county prison to await trial. + </p> + <p> + Wilson examined the finger-marks on the knife-handle and said to himself, + “Neither of the twins made those marks.” Then + manifestly there was another person concerned, either in his own + interest or as hired assassin. + </p> + <p> + But who could it be? That, he must try to find out. The safe was not + open, the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span> + cash-box was closed, and had three thousand dollars in it. Then + robbery was not the motive, and revenge was. Where had the murdered man an + enemy except Luigi? There was but that one person in the world with a deep + grudge against him. + </p> + <p> + The mysterious girl! The girl was a great trial to Wilson. If the motive + had been robbery, the girl might answer; but there wasn’t any girl + that would want to take this old man’s life for revenge. He had no + quarrels with girls; he was a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Wilson had perfect tracings of the finger-marks of the knife-handle; and + among his glass-records he had a great array of finger-prints of women and + girls, collected during the last fifteen or eighteen years, but he scanned + them in vain, they successfully withstood every test; among them were no + duplicates of the prints on the knife. + </p> + <p> + The presence of the knife on the stage of the murder was a worrying + circumstance for Wilson. A week previously he had as good as admitted to + himself that he believed Luigi had possessed such a knife, and that he + still + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> + possessed it notwithstanding his pretense that it had been stolen. And + now here was the knife, and with it the twins. Half the town had said + the twins were humbugging when they claimed that they had lost their + knife, and now these people were joyful, and said, + “I told you so!” + </p> + <p> + If their finger-prints had been on the handle—but it was useless + to bother any further about that; the finger-prints on the handle were + <i>not</i> theirs—that he knew perfectly. + </p> + <p> + Wilson refused to suspect Tom; for first, Tom couldn’t murder + anybody—he hadn’t character enough; secondly, if he could + murder a person he wouldn’t select his doting benefactor and + nearest relative; thirdly, self-interest was in + the way; for while the uncle lived, Tom was sure of a free support and a + chance to get the destroyed will revived again, but with the uncle gone, + that chance was gone, too. It was true the will had really been revived, + as was now discovered, but Tom could not have been aware of it, or he + would have spoken of it, in his native talky, unsecretive way. Finally, + Tom was in St. Louis when + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> + the murder was done, and got the news out of the morning journals, as was + shown by his telegram to his aunt. These speculations were unemphasized + sensations rather than articulated thoughts, for Wilson would have + laughed at the idea of seriously connecting Tom with the murder. + </p> + <p> + Wilson regarded the case of the twins as desperate—in fact, about + hopeless. For he argued that if a confederate was not found, an + enlightened Missouri jury would hang them, sure; if a confederate was + found, that would not improve the matter, but simply furnish one more + person for the sheriff to hang. Nothing could save the twins but the + discovery of a person who did the murder on his sole personal + account—an undertaking which had all the aspect of the impossible. + Still, the person who made the finger-prints must be sought. The twins + might have no case <i>with</i> him, but they certainly would have none + without him. + </p> + <p> + So Wilson mooned around, thinking, thinking, guessing, guessing, day and + night, and arriving nowhere. Whenever he ran across a girl or a woman he + was not acquainted with, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span> + he got her finger-prints, on one pretext or another; and they always cost + him a sigh when he got home, for they never tallied with the finger-marks + on the knife-handle. + </p> + <p> + As to the mysterious girl, Tom swore he knew no such girl, and did not + remember ever seeing a girl wearing a dress like the one described by + Wilson. He admitted that he did not always lock his room, and that + sometimes the servants forgot to lock the house doors; still, in his + opinion the girl must have made but few visits or she would have been + discovered. When Wilson tried to connect her with the stealing-raid, and + thought she might have been the old woman’s confederate, if not + the very thief herself disguised as an old woman, Tom seemed stuck, and + also much interested, and said he would keep a sharp eye out for this + person or persons, although he was afraid that she or they would be too + smart to venture again into a town where everybody would now be on the + watch for a good while to come. + </p> + <p> + Everybody was pitying Tom, he looked so quiet and sorrowful, and seemed to + feel his great loss so deeply. He was playing a part, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span> + but it was not all a part. The picture of his alleged uncle, as he had + last seen him, was before him in the dark pretty frequently, when he was + awake, and called again in his dreams, when he was asleep. He + wouldn’t go into the room where the tragedy had happened. This + charmed the doting Mrs. Pratt, who realized now, “as she had never + done before,” she said, what a sensitive and delicate nature her + darling had, and how he adored his poor uncle. + </p> + <hr /> + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER XX.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">The Murderer Chuckles.</p> + + <p class="pullquote"> + Even the clearest and most perfect circumstantial evidence + is likely to be at fault, after all, and therefore ought to + be received with great caution. Take the case of any pencil, + sharpened by any woman: if you have witnesses, you will find + she did it with a knife; but if you take simply the aspect + of the pencil, you will say she did it with her + teeth.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">The</span> weeks dragged along, no friend visiting the + jailed twins but their counsel and Aunt Patsy Cooper, and the day of trial + came at last—the heaviest day in Wilson’s life; for with all + his tireless diligence he had discovered no sign or trace of the missing + confederate. “Confederate” was the term he had long ago + privately accepted for that person—not as being unquestionably the + right term, but as being at least possibly the right one, though he was + never able to understand why the twins did not vanish and escape, as + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> + the confederate had done, instead of remaining by the murdered man and + getting caught there. + </p> + <p> + The court-house was crowded, of course, and would remain so to the finish, + for not only in the town itself, but in the country for miles around, the + trial was the one topic of conversation among the people. Mrs. Pratt, in + deep mourning, and Tom with a weed on his hat, had seats near Pembroke + Howard, the public prosecutor, and back of them sat a great array of + friends of the family. The twins had but one friend present to keep their + counsel in countenance, their poor old sorrowing landlady. She sat near + Wilson, and looked her friendliest. In the “nigger corner” + sat Chambers; also Roxy, with good clothes on, and her bill of sale in + her pocket. It was her most precious possession, and she never parted + with it, day or night. Tom had allowed her thirty-five dollars a month + ever since he came into his property, and had said that he and she ought + to be grateful to the twins for making them rich; but had roused such a + temper in her by + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span> + this speech that he did not repeat the argument + afterward. She said the old Judge had treated her child a thousand times + better than he deserved, and had never done her an unkindness in his life; + so she hated these outlandish devils for killing him, and shouldn’t + ever sleep satisfied till she saw them hanged for it. She was here to + watch the trial, now, and was going to lift up just one + “hooraw” over it if the County Judge put her in jail + a year for it. She gave her turbaned head a toss and said, “When + dat verdic’ comes, I’s gwine to lif’ dat <i>roof</i>, + now, I <i>tell</i> you.” + </p> + <p> + Pembroke Howard briefly sketched the State’s case. He said he + would show by a chain of circumstantial evidence without break or fault + in it anywhere, that the principal prisoner at the bar committed the + murder; that the motive was partly revenge, and partly a desire to take + his own life out of jeopardy, and that his brother, by his presence, was a + consenting accessory to the crime; a crime which was the basest known to + the calendar of human misdeeds—assassination; that it was conceived + by the blackest of hearts and + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> + consummated by the cowardliest of hands; a + crime which had broken a loving sister’s heart, blighted the + happiness of a young nephew who was as dear as a son, brought + inconsolable grief to many friends, and sorrow and loss to the whole + community. The utmost penalty of the outraged law would be exacted, and + upon the accused, now present at the bar, that penalty would + unquestionably be executed. He would reserve further remark until his + closing speech. + </p> + <p> + He was strongly moved, and so also was the whole house; Mrs. Pratt and + several other women were weeping when he sat down, and many an eye that + was full of hate was riveted upon the unhappy prisoners. + </p> + <p> + Witness after witness was called by the State, and questioned at length; + but the cross-questioning was brief. Wilson knew they could furnish + nothing valuable for his side. People were sorry for Pudd’nhead; + his budding career would get hurt by this trial. + </p> + <p> + Several witnesses swore they heard Judge Driscoll say in his public speech + that the twins would be able to find their lost knife + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span> + again when they needed it to assassinate somebody with. This was not + news, but now it was seen to have been sorrowfully prophetic, and a + profound sensation quivered through the hushed court-room when those + dismal words were repeated. + </p> + <p> + The public prosecutor rose and said that it was within his knowledge, + through a conversation held with Judge Driscoll on the last day of his + life, that counsel for the defense had brought him a challenge from the + person charged at this bar with murder; that he had refused to fight with + a confessed assassin—“that is, on the field of + honor,” but had added significantly, that he would be ready + for him elsewhere. Presumably the person here charged with murder was + warned that he must kill or be killed the first time he should meet + Judge Driscoll. If counsel for the defense chose to let the statement + stand so, he would not call him to the witness stand. Mr. Wilson said he + would offer no denial. [Murmurs in the house—“It is getting + worse and worse for Wilson’s case.”] + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pratt testified that she heard no outcry, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> + and did not know what woke her up, unless it was the sound of rapid + footsteps approaching the front door. She jumped up and ran out in the + hall just as she was, and heard the footsteps flying up the front steps + and then following behind her as she ran to the sitting-room. There she + found the accused standing over her murdered brother. [Here she broke + down and sobbed. Sensation in the court.] Resuming, she said the persons + entering behind her were Mr. Rogers and Mr. Buckstone. + </p> + <p> + Cross-examined by Wilson, she said the twins proclaimed their innocence; + declared that they had been taking a walk, and had hurried to the house in + response to a cry for help which was so loud and strong that they had + heard it at a considerable distance; that they begged her and the + gentlemen just mentioned to examine their hands and clothes—which + was done, and no blood stains found. + </p> + <p> + Confirmatory evidence followed from Rogers and Buckstone. + </p> + <p> + The finding of the knife was verified, the advertisement minutely + describing it and offering + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span> + a reward for it was put in evidence, and its exact correspondence with + that description proved. Then followed a few minor details, and the case + for the State was closed. + </p> + <p> + Wilson said that he had three witnesses, the Misses Clarkson, who would + testify that they met a veiled young woman leaving Judge Driscoll’s + premises by the back gate a few minutes after the cries for help were + heard, and that their evidence, taken with certain circumstantial evidence + which he would call the court’s attention to, would in his opinion + convince the court that there was still one person concerned in this crime + who had not yet been found, and also that a stay of proceedings ought to + be granted, in justice to his clients, until that person should be + discovered. As it was late, he would ask leave to defer the examination of + his three witnesses until the next morning. + </p> + <p> + The crowd poured out of the place and went flocking away in excited groups + and couples, talking the events of the session over with vivacity and + consuming interest, and everybody seemed to have had a satisfactory and + enjoyable + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> + day except the accused, their counsel, and their old-lady + friend. There was no cheer among these, and no substantial hope. + </p> + <p> + In parting with the twins Aunt Patsy did attempt a good-night with a gay + pretense of hope and cheer in it, but broke down without finishing. + </p> + <p> + Absolutely secure as Tom considered himself to be, the opening + solemnities of the trial had nevertheless oppressed him with a + vague uneasiness, his being a nature sensitive to even the + smallest alarms; but from the moment that the poverty and + weakness of Wilson’s case lay exposed to the court, he + was comfortable once more, even jubilant. He left the court-room + sarcastically sorry for Wilson. “The Clarksons met an + unknown woman in the back lane,” he said to + himself—“<i>that</i> is his case! I’ll give + him a century to find her in—a couple of them if he + likes. A woman who doesn’t exist any longer, and the clothes + that gave her her sex burnt up and the ashes thrown away—oh, + certainly, he’ll find <i>her</i> easy enough!” This + reflection set him to admiring, for the hundredth time, the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> + shrewd ingenuities by which he had insured himself against + detection—more, against even suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “Nearly always in cases like this there is some little detail + or other overlooked, some wee little track or trace left behind, and + detection follows; but here there’s not even the faintest suggestion + of a trace left. No more than a bird leaves when it flies through the + air—yes, through the night, you may say. The man that can track a + bird through the air in the dark and find that bird is the man to track + me out and find the Judge’s assassin—no other need apply. + And that is the job that has been laid out for poor Pudd’nhead + Wilson, of all people in the world! Lord, it will be pathetically funny + to see him grubbing and groping after that woman that don’t exist, + and the right person sitting under his very nose all the time!” + The more he thought the situation over, the more the humor of it struck + him. Finally he said, “I’ll never let him hear the last of + that woman. Every time I catch him in company, to his dying day, + I’ll ask him in the guileless affectionate way that + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span> + used to gravel him so when I inquired how his unborn law-business + was coming along, ‘Got on her track yet—hey, + Pudd’nhead?’” He wanted to laugh, but that + would not have answered; there were people about, and he was mourning + for his uncle. He made up his mind that it would be good entertainment + to look in on Wilson that night and watch him worry over his barren + law-case and goad him with an exasperating word or two of sympathy and + commiseration now and then. + </p> + <p> + Wilson wanted no supper, he had no appetite. He got out all the + finger-prints of girls and women in his collection of records and pored + gloomily over them an hour or more, trying to convince himself that that + troublesome girl’s marks were there somewhere and had been + overlooked. But it was not so. He drew back his chair, clasped his hands + over his head, and gave himself up to dull and arid musings. + </p> + <p> + Tom Driscoll dropped in, an hour after dark, and said with a pleasant + laugh as he took a seat— + </p> + <p> + “Hello, we’ve gone back to the amusements + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span> + of our days of neglect and obscurity for consolation, have we?” + and he took up one of the glass strips and held it against the light + to inspect it. “Come, cheer up, old man; there’s no use + in losing your grip and going back to this child’s-play merely + because this big sunspot is drifting across your shiny new + disk. It’ll pass, and you’ll be all right + again,”—and he laid the glass down. + “Did you think you could win always?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Wilson, with a sigh, “I + didn’t expect that, but I can’t believe Luigi killed your + uncle, and I feel very sorry for him. It makes me blue. And you would + feel as I do, Tom, if you were not prejudiced against those young + fellows.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about that,” and Tom’s + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Change countenence to countenance."> + countenance</ins> darkened, for his memory reverted to his kicking; + “I owe them no good will, considering the brunette + one’s treatment of me that night. Prejudice or no prejudice, + Pudd’nhead, I don’t like them, and when they get their + deserts you’re not going to find me sitting on the + mourner’s bench.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span> + He took up another strip of glass, and exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “Why, here’s old Roxy’s label! Are you going to + ornament the royal palaces with nigger paw-marks, too? By the date here, + I was seven months old when this was done, and she was nursing me and her + little nigger cub. There’s a line straight across her thumb-print. + How comes that?” and Tom held out the piece of glass to Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “That is common,” said the bored man, wearily. + “Scar of a cut or a scratch, usually”—and he took + the strip of glass indifferently, and raised it toward the lamp. + </p> + <p> + All the blood sunk suddenly out of his face; his hand quaked, and he gazed + at the polished surface before him with the glassy stare of a corpse. + </p> + <p> + “Great Heavens, what’s the matter with you, Wilson? + Are you going to faint?” + </p> + <p> + Tom sprang for a glass of water and offered it, but Wilson shrank + shuddering from him and said— + </p> + <p> + “No, no!—take it away!” His breast was rising and + falling, and he moved his head + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span> + about in a dull and wandering way, like a person who had been stunned. + Presently he said, “I shall feel better when I get to bed; I have + been overwrought to-day; yes, and over worked for many days.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ll leave you and let you to get to your rest. + Good-night, old man.” But as Tom went out he couldn’t deny + himself a small parting gibe: “Don’t take it so hard; a body + can’t win every time; you’ll hang somebody yet.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson muttered to himself, “It is no lie to say I am sorry + I have to begin with you, miserable dog though you are!” + </p> + <p> + He braced himself up with a glass of cold whisky, and went to work again. + He did not compare the new finger-marks unintentionally left by Tom a few + minutes before on Roxy’s glass with the tracings of the marks left + on the knife-handle, there being no need for that (for his trained eye), + but busied himself with another matter, muttering from time to time, + “Idiot that I was!—Nothing but a <i>girl</i> would do + me—a man in girl’s clothes never occurred to me.” + First, he hunted out the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span> + plate containing the finger-prints made by Tom when he was twelve years + old, and laid it by itself; then he brought forth the marks made by + Tom’s baby fingers when he was a suckling of seven months, and + placed these two plates with the one containing this subject’s + newly (and unconsciously) made record. + </p> + <p> + “Now the series is complete,” he said with satisfaction, + and sat down to inspect these things and enjoy them. + </p> + <p> + But his enjoyment was brief. He stared a considerable time at the three + strips, and seemed stupefied with astonishment. At last he put them down + and said, “I can’t make it out at all—hang it, + the baby’s don’t tally with the others!” + </p> + <p> + He walked the floor for half an hour puzzling over his enigma, then he + hunted out two other glass plates. + </p> + <p> + He sat down and puzzled over these things a good while, but kept + muttering, “It’s no use; I can’t understand it. + They don’t tally right, and yet I’ll swear the names + and dates are right, and so of course they <i>ought</i> to tally. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span> + I never labeled one of these thing carelessly in my life. + There is a most extraordinary mystery here.” + </p> + <p> + He was tired out, now, and his brains were beginning to clog. He said he + would sleep himself fresh, and then see what he could do with this riddle. + He slept through a troubled and unrestful hour, then unconsciousness began + to shred away, and presently he rose drowsily to a sitting posture. + “Now what was that dream?” he said, trying to recall it; + “what was that dream?—it seemed to unravel that + puz—” + </p> + <p> + He landed in the middle of the floor at a bound, without finishing the + sentence, and ran and turned up his light and seized his + “records.” He took a single swift glance at them and + cried out— + </p> + <p> + “It’s so! Heavens, what a revelation! And for twenty-three + years no man has ever suspected it!” + </p> + <hr /> + + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h2> + <p class="chaptertitle">Doom.</p> + + <p class="pullquote"> He is useless on top of the ground; he ought + to be under it, inspiring the cabbages.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + + <p class="pullquote"> + <i>April 1.</i> This is the day upon which we are reminded of what + we are on the other three hundred and + sixty-four.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">Wilson</span> put on enough clothes for business + purposes and went to work under a high pressure of steam. He was awake + all over. All sense of weariness had been swept away by the invigorating + refreshment of the great and hopeful discovery which he had made. He + made fine and accurate reproductions of a number of his + “records,” and then enlarged them on a scale of ten to one + with his pantograph. He did these pantograph enlargements on sheets of + white cardboard, and made each individual line of the bewildering maze + of whorls or curves or loops which constituted the “pattern,” + of a “record” stand out bold and black by reinforcing + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span> + it with ink. To the untrained eye the collection of delicate originals + made by the human finger on the glass plates looked about alike; but when + enlarged ten times they resembled the markings of a block of wood that has + been sawed across the grain, and the dullest eye could detect at a glance, + and at a distance of many feet, that no two of the patterns were alike. + When Wilson had at last finished his tedious and difficult work, he + arranged its results according to a plan in which a progressive order and + sequence was a principal feature; then he added to the batch several + pantograph enlargements which he had made from time to time in bygone + years. + </p> + <p> + The night was spent and the day well advanced, now. By the time he had + snatched a trifle of breakfast it was nine o’clock, and the court + was ready to begin its sitting. He was in his place twelve minutes later + with his “records.” + </p> + <p> + Tom Driscoll caught a slight glimpse of the records, and nudged his + nearest friend and said, with a wink, “Pudd’nhead’s + got a rare eye to business—thinks that as long as he + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span> + can’t win his case it’s at least a noble good chance to + advertise his palace-window decorations without any expense.” + Wilson was informed that his witnesses had been delayed, but would + arrive presently; but he rose and said he should probably not have + occasion to make use of their testimony. [An amused murmur ran through + the room—“It’s a clean backdown! he gives up without + hitting a lick!”] Wilson continued—“I have other + testimony—and better. [This compelled interest, and evoked murmurs + of surprise that had a detectable ingredient of disappointment in them.] + If I seem to be springing this evidence upon the court, I offer as my + justification for this, that I did not discover its existence until late + last night, and have been engaged in examining and classifying it ever + since, until half an hour ago. I shall offer it presently; but first I + wish to say a few preliminary words. + </p> + <p> + “May it please the Court, the claim given the front place, the claim + most persistently urged, the claim most strenuously and I may even say + aggressively and defiantly insisted upon by the prosecution, is + this—that the person + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span> + whose hand left the blood-stained finger-prints upon the handle of the + Indian knife is the person who committed the murder.” Wilson paused, + during several moments, to give impressiveness to what he was about to + say, and then added tranquilly, “<i>We grant that + claim.</i>” + </p> + <p> + It was an electrical surprise. No one was prepared for such an admission. + A buzz of astonishment rose on all sides, and people were heard to + intimate that the overworked lawyer had lost his mind. Even the veteran + judge, accustomed as he was to legal ambushes and masked batteries in + criminal procedure, was not sure that his ears were not deceiving him, and + asked counsel what it was he had said. Howard’s impassive face + betrayed no sign, but his attitude and bearing lost something of their + careless confidence for a moment. Wilson resumed: + </p> + <p> + “We not only grant that claim, but we welcome it and strongly + endorse it. Leaving that matter for the present, we will now proceed to + consider other points in the case which we propose to establish by + evidence, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span> + and shall include that one in the chain in its proper place.” + </p> + <p> + He had made up his mind to try a few hardy guesses, in mapping out his + theory of the origin and motive of the murder—guesses designed to + fill up gaps in it—guesses which could help if they hit, and would + probably do no harm if they didn’t. + </p> + <p> + “To my mind, certain circumstances of the case before the court + seem to suggest a motive for the homicide quite different from the one + insisted on by the State. It is my conviction that the motive was not + revenge, but robbery. It has been urged that the presence of the accused + brothers in that fatal room, just after notification that one of them + must take the life of Judge Driscoll or lose his own the moment the + parties should meet, clearly signifies that the natural instinct of + self-preservation moved my clients to go there secretly and save Count + Luigi by destroying his adversary. + </p> + <p> + “Then why did they stay there, after the deed was done? Mrs. + Pratt had time, although she did not hear the cry for help, but woke up + some moments later, to run to that + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span> + room—and there she found these + men standing and making no effort to escape. If they were guilty, they + ought to have been running out of the house at the same time that she + was running to that room. If they had had such a strong instinct toward + self-preservation as to move them to kill that unarmed man, what had + become of it now, when it should have been more alert than ever? Would + any of us have remained there? Let us not slander our intelligence to + that degree. + </p> + <p> + “Much stress has been laid upon the fact that the accused + offered a very large reward for the knife with which this murder was + done; that no thief came forward to claim that extraordinary reward; + that the latter fact was good circumstantial evidence that the claim + that the knife had been stolen was a vanity and a fraud; that these + details taken in connection with the memorable and apparently prophetic + speech of the deceased concerning that knife, and the final discovery + of that very knife in the fatal room where no living person was found + present with the slaughtered man but the owner of the knife and his + brother, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span> + form an indestructible chain of evidence which fixes the crime + upon those unfortunate strangers. + </p> + <p> + “But I shall presently ask to be sworn, and shall testify that + there was a large reward offered for the <i>thief</i>, also; and it + was offered secretly and not advertised; that this fact was indiscreetly + mentioned—or at least tacitly admitted—in what was supposed + to be safe circumstances, but may <i>not</i> have been. The thief may + have been present himself. [Tom Driscoll had been looking at the speaker, + but dropped his eyes at this point.] In that case he would retain the + knife in his possession, not daring to offer it for sale, or for pledge + in a pawn-shop. [There was a nodding of heads among the audience by way + of admission that this was not a bad stroke.] I shall prove to the + satisfaction of the jury that there <i>was</i> a person in Judge + Driscoll’s room several minutes before the accused entered it. + [This produced a strong sensation; the last drowsy-head in the court-room + roused up, now, and made preparation to listen.] If it shall seem + necessary, I will prove by the Misses Clarkson + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span> + that they met a veiled person—ostensibly a woman—coming out + of the back gate a few minutes after the cry for help was heard. This + person was not a woman, but a man dressed in woman’s clothes.” + Another sensation. Wilson had his eye on Tom when he hazarded this + guess, to see what effect it would produce. He was satisfied with the + result, and said to himself, “It was a + success—he’s hit!” + </p> + <p> + “The object of that person in that house was robbery, not murder. + It is true that the safe was not open, but there was an ordinary tin + cash-box on the table, with three thousand dollars in it. It is easily + supposable that the thief was concealed in the house; that he knew of + this box, and of its owner’s habit of counting its contents and + arranging his accounts at night—if he had that habit, which I do + not assert, of course;—that he tried to take the box while its owner + slept, but made a noise and was seized, and had to use the knife to save + himself from capture; and that he fled without his booty because he + heard help coming. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span> + “I have now done with my theory, and will proceed to the + evidences by which I propose to try to prove its soundness.” + Wilson took up several of his strips of glass. When the audience + recognized these familiar mementoes of Pudd’nhead’s + old-time childish “puttering” and folly, the tense and + funereal interest vanished out of their faces, and the house burst into + volleys of relieving and refreshing laughter, and Tom chirked up and + joined in the fun himself; but Wilson was apparently not disturbed. He + arranged his records on the table before him, and said— + </p> + <p> + “I beg the indulgence of the court while I make a few remarks in + explanation of some evidence which I am about to introduce, and which I + shall presently ask to be allowed to verify under oath on the + witness stand. Every human being carries with him from his cradle to his + grave certain physical marks which do not change their character, and by + which he can always be identified—and that without shade of doubt or + question. These marks are his signature, his physiological autograph, so + to speak, and this autograph + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> + can not be counterfeited, nor can he disguise + it or hide it away, nor can it become illegible by the wear and mutations + of time. This signature is not his face—age can change that beyond + recognition; it is not his hair, for that can fall out; it is not his + height, for duplicates of that exist; it is not his form, for duplicates + of that exist also, whereas this signature is each man’s very + own—there is no duplicate of it among the swarming populations + of the globe! [The audience were interested once more.] + </p> + <p> + “This autograph consists of the delicate lines or corrugations with + which Nature marks the insides of the hands and the soles of the feet. If + you will look at the balls of your fingers,—you that have very sharp + eyesight,—you will observe that these dainty curving lines lie close + together, like those that indicate the borders of oceans in maps, and that + they form various clearly defined patterns, such as arches, circles, long + curves, whorls, etc., and that these patterns differ on the different + fingers. [Every man in the room had his hand up + to the light, now, and his head canted to one side, and + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span> + was minutely + scrutinizing the balls of his fingers; there were whispered ejaculations + of ‘Why, it’s so—I never noticed that before!’] + The patterns on the right hand are not the same as those on the left. + [Ejaculations of ‘Why, that’s so, too!’] Taken finger + for finger, your patterns differ from your neighbor’s. [Comparisons + were made all over the house—even the judge and jury were absorbed + in this curious work.] The patterns of a twin’s right hand are not + the same as those on his left. One twin’s patterns are never the + same as his fellow-twin’s patterns—the jury will find that + the patterns upon the finger-balls of the accused follow this rule. + [An examination of the twins’ hands was begun at once.] You have + often heard of twins who were so exactly alike that when dressed alike + their own parents could not tell them apart. Yet there was never a twin + born into this world that did not carry from birth to death a sure + identifier in this mysterious and marvelous natal autograph. That once + known to you, his fellow-twin could never personate him and deceive + you.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span> + Wilson stopped and stood silent. Inattention dies a quick and sure death + when a speaker does that. The stillness gives warning that something is + coming. All palms and finger-balls went down, now, all slouching forms + straightened, all heads came up, all eyes were fastened upon + Wilson’s face. He waited yet one, two, three moments, to let his + pause complete and perfect its spell upon the house; then, when through + the profound hush he could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, he + put out his hand and took the Indian knife by the blade and held it aloft + where all could see the sinister spots upon its ivory handle; then he + said, in a level and passionless voice— + </p> + <p> + “Upon this haft stands the assassin’s natal autograph, written + in the blood of that helpless and unoffending old man who loved you and + whom you all loved. There is but one man in the whole earth whose hand can + duplicate that crimson sign,”—he paused and raised his eyes + to the pendulum swinging back and forth,—“and please God + we will produce + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span> + that man in this room before the clock strikes noon!” + </p> + <p> + Stunned, distraught, unconscious of its own movement, the house half rose, + as if expecting to see the murderer appear at the door, and a breeze of + muttered ejaculations swept the place. “Order in the + court!—sit down!” This from the sheriff. He was obeyed, and + quiet reigned again. Wilson stole a glance at Tom, and said to himself, + “He is flying signals of distress, now; even people who despise him + are pitying him; they think this is a hard ordeal for a young fellow who + has lost his benefactor by so cruel a stroke—and they are + right.” He resumed his speech: + </p> + <p> + “For more than twenty years I have amused my compulsory leisure with + collecting these curious physical signatures in this town. At my house I + have hundreds upon hundreds of them. Each and every one is labelled with + name and date; not labelled the next day or even the next hour, but in the + very minute that the impression was taken. When I go upon the witness + stand I will repeat under oath the things which I am now saying. I + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span> + have the finger-prints of the court, the sheriff, and every member of the + jury. There is hardly a person in this room, white or black, whose natal + signature I cannot produce, and not one of them can so disguise himself + that I cannot pick him out from a multitude of his fellow-creatures and + unerringly identify him by his hands. And if he and I should live to be a + hundred I could still do it. [The interest of the audience was steadily + deepening, now.] + </p> + <p> + “I have studied some of these signatures so much that I know them + as well as the bank cashier knows the autograph of his oldest customer. + While I turn my back now, I beg that several persons will be so good as + to pass their fingers through their hair, and then press them upon one + of the panes of the window near the jury, and that among them the accused + may set <i>their</i> finger-marks. Also, I beg that these experimenters, + or others, will set their finger-marks upon another pane, and add again + the marks of the accused, but not placing them in the same order or + relation to the other signatures as before—for, by one + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span> + chance in a million, a person might happen upon the right marks by pure + guess-work <i>once</i>, therefore I wish to be tested twice.” + </p> + <p> + He turned his back, and the two panes were quickly covered with + delicately-lined oval spots, but visible only to such persons as could + get a dark background for them—the foliage of a tree, outside, for + instance. Then, upon call, Wilson went to the window, made his + examination, and said— + </p> + <p> + “This is Count Luigi’s right hand; this one, three signatures + below, is his left. Here is Count Angelo’s right; down here is his + left. Now for the other pane: here and here are Count Luigi’s, + here and here are his brother’s.” He faced about. + “Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + A deafening explosion of applause was the answer. The Bench said— + </p> + <p> + “This certainly approaches the miraculous!” + </p> + <p> + Wilson turned to the window again and remarked, pointing with his + finger— + </p> + <p> + “This is the signature of Mr. Justice Robinson. [Applause.] This, of + Constable Blake. [Applause.] This, of John Mason, juryman. [Applause.] + This, of the sheriff. [Applause.] + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span> + I cannot name the others, but I have them all at home, named and dated, + and could identify them all by my finger-print records.” + </p> + <p> + He moved to his place through a storm of applause—which the sheriff + stopped, and also made the people sit down, for they were all standing and + struggling to see, of course. Court, jury, sheriff, and everybody had been + too absorbed in observing Wilson’s performance to attend to the + audience earlier. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then,” said Wilson, “I have here the natal + autographs of two children—thrown up to ten times the natural size + by the pantograph, so that any one who can see at all can tell the + markings apart at a glance. We will call the children <i>A</i> and + <i>B</i>. Here are <i>A</i>’s finger-marks, taken at the age of + five months. Here they are again, taken at seven months. [Tom started.] + They are alike, you see. Here are <i>B</i>’s at five months, and + also at seven months. They, too, exactly copy each other, but the patterns + are quite different from <i>A</i>’s, you observe. I shall refer to + these again presently, but we will turn them face down, now. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span> + “Here, thrown up ten sizes, are the natal autographs of the two + persons who are here before you accused of murdering Judge Driscoll. I + made these pantograph copies last night, and will so swear when I go upon + the witness stand. I ask the jury to compare them with the finger-marks + of the accused upon the window panes, and tell the court if they are + the same.” + </p> + <p> + He passed a powerful magnifying-glass to the foreman. + </p> + <p> + One juryman after another took the cardboard and the glass and made the + comparison. Then the foreman said to the judge— + </p> + <p> + “Your honor, we are all agreed that they are identical.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson said to the foreman— + </p> + <p> + “Please turn that cardboard face down, and take this one, and + compare it searchingly, by the magnifier, with the fatal signature + upon the knife-handle, and report your finding to the court.” + </p> + <p> + Again the jury made minute examinations, and again reported— + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span> + “We find them to be exactly identical, your honor.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson turned toward the counsel for the prosecution, and there was a + clearly recognizable note of warning in his voice when he said— + </p> + <p> + “May it please the court, the State has claimed, strenuously + and persistently, that the blood-stained finger-prints upon that + knife-handle were left there by the assassin of Judge Driscoll. You + have heard us grant that claim, and welcome it.” He turned to + the jury: “Compare the finger-prints of the accused with the + finger-prints left by the assassin—and report.” + </p> + <p> + The comparison began. As it proceeded, all movement and all sound ceased, + and the deep silence of an absorbed and waiting suspense settled upon the + house; and when at last the words came— + </p> + <p> + “<i>They do not even resemble</i>,” a thunder-crash of + applause followed and the house sprang to its feet, but was quickly + repressed by official force and brought to order again. Tom was altering + his position every few minutes, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span> + now, but none of his changes brought repose nor any small trifle of + comfort. When the house’s attention was become fixed once more, + Wilson said gravely, indicating the twins with a gesture— + </p> + <p> + “These men are innocent—I have no further concern with + them. [Another outbreak of applause began, but was promptly checked.] + We will now proceed to find the guilty. [Tom’s eyes were starting + from their sockets—yes, it was a cruel day for the bereaved youth, + everybody thought.] We will return to the infant autographs of <i>A</i> + and <i>B</i>. I will ask the jury to take these large pantograph + facsimilies of <i>A</i>’s marked five months and seven months. + Do they tally?” + </p> + <p> + The foreman responded— + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “Now examine this pantograph, taken at eight months, and also + marked <i>A</i>. Does it tally with the other two?” + </p> + <p> + The surprised response was— + </p> + <p> + “<i>No—they differ widely</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right. Now take these two pantographs of + <i>B</i>’s autograph, marked + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span> + five months and seven months. Do they tally with each other?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “Take this third pantograph marked <i>B</i>, eight months. Does it + tally with <i>B</i>’s other two?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>By no means</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know how to account for those strange discrepancies? I + will tell you. For a purpose unknown to us, but probably a selfish one, + somebody changed those children in the cradle.” + </p> + <p> + This produced a vast sensation, naturally; Roxana was astonished at this + admirable guess, but not disturbed by it. To guess the exchange was one + thing, to guess who did it quite another. Pudd’nhead Wilson could do + wonderful things, no doubt, but he couldn’t do impossible ones. + Safe? She was perfectly safe. She smiled privately. + </p> + <p> + “Between the ages of seven months and eight months those children + were changed in the cradle”—he made one of his + effect-collecting pauses, and added—“and the + person who did it is in this house!” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span> + Roxy’s pulses stood still! The house was thrilled as with an + electric shock, and the people half rose as if to seek a glimpse of the + person who had made that exchange. Tom was growing limp; the life seemed + oozing out of him. Wilson resumed: + </p> + <p> + “<i>A</i> was put into <i>B</i>’s cradle in the nursery; + <i>B</i> was transferred to the kitchen and became a negro and a slave, + [Sensation—confusion of angry ejaculations]—but within a + quarter of an hour he will stand before you white and free! [Burst of + applause, checked by the officers.] From seven months onward until now, + <i>A</i> has still been a usurper, and in my finger-record he bears + <i>B</i>’s name. Here is his pantograph at the age of twelve. + Compare it with the assassin’s signature upon the knife-handle. + Do they tally?” + </p> + <p> + The foreman answered— + </p> + <p> + “<i>To the minutest detail!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Wilson said, solemnly— + </p> + <p> + “The murderer of your friend and mine—York Driscoll of the + generous hand and the kindly spirit—sits in among you. + Valet de Chambre, negro and slave,—falsely called + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span> + Thomas à Becket Driscoll,—make upon the window the + finger-prints that will hang you!” + </p> + <p> + Tom turned his ashen face imploring toward the speaker, made some impotent + movements with his white lips, then slid limp and lifeless to the floor. + </p> + <p> + Wilson broke the awed silence with the words— + </p> + <p> + “There is no need. He has confessed.” + </p> + <p> + Roxy flung herself upon her knees, covered her face with her hands, and + out through her sobs the words struggled— + </p> + <p> + “De Lord have mercy on me, po’ misable sinner dat I is!” + </p> + <p> + The clock struck twelve. + </p> + <p> + The court rose; the new prisoner, handcuffed, was removed. + </p> + <hr /> + + + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC"></a> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2><a href="#Contents">Conclusion</a></h2> + + <p class="pullquote"> + It is often the case that the man who can’t tell a lie + thinks he is the best judge of one.<i>—Pudd’nhead + Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="pullquote"> + <i>October 12, the Discovery</i>. It was wonderful to find + America, but it would have been more wonderful to miss + it.<i>—Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar.</i> + </p> + <p class="double-space-top"> + <span class="smcap">The</span> town sat up all night to discuss the + amazing events of the day and swap guesses as to when Tom’s trial + would begin. Troop after troop of citizens came to serenade Wilson, and + require a speech, and shout themselves hoarse over every sentence that + fell from his lips—for all his sentences were golden, now, all + were marvelous. His long fight against hard luck and prejudice was + ended; he was a made man for good. + </p> + <p> + And as each of these roaring gangs of enthusiasts marched away, some + remorseful + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span> + member of it was quite sure to raise his voice and say— + </p> + <p> + “And this is the man the likes of us have called a + pudd’nhead for more than twenty years. He has resigned from + that position, friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but it isn’t vacant—we’re elected.” + </p> + <hr class="break" /> + <p> + The twins were heroes of romance, now, and with rehabilitated reputations. + But they were weary of Western adventure, and straightway retired to + Europe. + </p> + <p> + Roxy’s heart was broken. The young fellow upon whom she had + inflicted twenty-three years of slavery continued the false heir’s + pension of thirty-five dollars a month to her, but her hurts were too + deep for money to heal; the spirit in her eye was quenched, her martial + bearing departed with it, and the voice of her laughter ceased in the + land. In her church and its affairs she found her only solace. + </p> + <p> + The real heir suddenly found himself rich and free, but in a most + embarrassing + situation. He could neither read nor write, and + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> + his speech + was the basest dialect of the negro quarter. His gait, his attitudes, his + gestures, his bearing, his laugh—all were vulgar and uncouth; his + manners were the manners of a slave. Money and fine clothes could not mend + these defects or cover them up; they only made them the more glaring and + the more pathetic. The poor fellow could not endure the terrors of the + white man’s parlor, and felt at home and at peace nowhere but in the + kitchen. The family pew was a misery to him, yet he could nevermore enter + into the solacing refuge of the “nigger gallery”—that + was closed to him for good and all. But we cannot follow his curious fate + further—that + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Remove in after that."> + would</ins> be a long story. + </p> + <p> + The false heir made a full confession and was sentenced to + imprisonment for life. But now a complication came up. The + Percy Driscoll estate was in such a crippled shape when its + owner died that it could pay only sixty per cent. of its + great indebtedness, and was settled at that rate. But the + creditors came forward, now, and complained that inasmuch + as through an error for which <i>they</i> were + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span> + in no way to blame the false heir was not inventoried at the time with the + rest of the property, great wrong and loss had thereby been + inflicted upon them. They rightly claimed that “Tom” + was lawfully their property and had been so for eight years; + that they had already lost sufficiently in being deprived of + his services during that long period, and ought not to be + required to add anything to that loss; that if he had been + delivered up to them in the first place, they would have sold + him and he could not have murdered Judge Driscoll; therefore + it was not he that had really committed the murder, the guilt + lay with the erroneous inventory. Everybody saw that there was + reason in this. Everybody granted that if “Tom” + were white and free it would be unquestionably right to punish + him—it would be no loss to anybody; but to shut up a + valuable slave for life—that was quite another matter. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the Governor understood the case, he pardoned Tom + at once, and the creditors sold him down the river. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + + + <hr /> + <div class="chapterhead"> + <br /> + <br /><br /><br /> + <h2><a href="#Contents">Transcriber's Notes</a></h2> + <p><br /></p> + <h3>Introduction:</h3> + </div> + <h4>1. Background.</h4> + <p> + Welcome to <span class="smcap">Project Gutenberg</span>'s presentation + of <i>Pudd'nhead Wilson</i>. The Italian twins in this novel, Luigi and + Angelo, were inspired by a real pair of Italian conjoined twins who toured + America in the 1890s. These were Giacomo and Giovanni Battista Tocci. + </p> + <p> + Homer Plessy was arrested for sitting in a whites-only passenger car on + June 7, 1892, and one month later he stood before Judge John Howard + Ferguson to plead his case. Plessy was an octaroon who could easily + "pass white." Four years later, the Supreme Court condoned "Separate but + Equal" laws in the famous <i>Plessy vs. Ferguson</i> case, which affirmed + the decision of Justice Ferguson in local court. These events in 1892 + unfolded as Twain wrote this story, and changed the tale that he ended up + telling. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Conan Doyle released his best-selling collection of short stories, + <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48320">The Adventures of Sherlock + Holmes</a>, on October 14, 1892. The stories had already appeared in + <i>The Strand Magazine</i>, one each month, from July 1891 to June 1892. + Holmes inspired Twain to add a component of forensics to this story. + </p> + <h4>2. Dialect.</h4> + <p> + The soliloquies and conversations in the novel follow some general + rules. Twain introduced some variations in the spelling of dialect, and + sometimes the sound of dialect, but the end meaning seems to be the + same thing. Below is a table of some of these words, and alternatives + found in the text: + </p> + <table class="dialect" summary="Table of Common Dialect used in Puddnhead Wilson" > +<caption>Dialect used in<br /> Pudd’nhead Wilson</caption> +<tbody> + <tr> + <th>English</th> + <th>Dialect,</th> + <th>Alternative,</th> + <th>Another</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>and</td> + <td>en</td> + <td></td> + <td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>against</td> + <td>agin,</td> + <td>ag’in,</td> + <td>ag’in’</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>because</td> + <td>’ca’se</td> + <td></td> + <td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>going</td> + <td>gwine,</td> + <td>gwyne</td><td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>more</td> + <td>mo’</td> + <td></td><td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>that</td> + <td>dat</td> + <td></td><td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>the</td> + <td>de</td> + <td></td><td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>then</td> + <td>den</td> + <td></td><td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>there</td> + <td>dere,</td> + <td>dah</td><td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>these</td> + <td>dese</td> + <td></td><td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>they</td> + <td>dey,</td> + <td>deh</td> + <td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>this</td> + <td>dis</td> + <td></td><td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>was</td> + <td>’uz</td> + <td></td><td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>with</td> + <td>wid</td> + <td></td><td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>where</td> + <td>whah</td> + <td></td> + <td></td> + </tr> +</tbody> +</table> + <p> + The above table was presented as a foundation which played into the decision + to make some emendations, below, that were not authorized by Twain in + 1899. One curious notation is that there was sometimes pronounced + dere, but also dah. Along the same lines, they most often + became dey, but in one case, deh. + </p> + <h4>3. This version.</h4> + <p> + Our version is based on the 1894 publication of this novel in Hartford. + This was Twain's original American release of the novel in book form. + A scanned copy of this book is available through Hathitrust. The book + contained some spaces in contractions: I 'll, dat 'll, had n't, could n't, + dis 'll, 't ain't / t ain't, and dey 'll are some examples. These spaces + were not retained in our transcription, and are not identified. We did make + a few other emendations. These emendations were checked with the 1899 + version of <i>Pudd’nhead Wilson</i> published by Harper & Brothers. + </p> + <h4>4. Notes on emendations.</h4> + <p> + The errors on <a href="#unauthorizedNote1">Page 233</a> and + <a href="#unauthorizedNote3">Page 288</a>, were not changed in + the 1899 book, so the case for making those changes may be found in the + <i>Detailed Notes</i> section. The remaining errors were corrected in + the 1899 publication, presumably authorized by Twain, who essentially + made the case for those emendations. + </p> + <p> + In the HTML version of this e-book, you can place your cursor over the faint + silver dotted lines below the + <ins title="Transcriber's Note: The change is stated here.">changed + text</ins> to discover the original text. The <i>Detailed Notes</i> + section of these notes describe these emendations. + </p> + <h4>5. Other versions.</h4> + <p> + Please note that many print versions of <i>Pudd’nhead Wilson</i> + include the phrase ‘spelling and usage have been brought into + conformity with modern usage,’ and editors have been liberal with + their renditions of Twain's story. + </p> + <h4>6. Detailed notes.</h4> + <p> + The <i>Detailed Notes Section</i> also includes issues that have come up + during transcription. One common issue is that words are sometimes split + into two lines for spacing purposes in the original text. These words are + hyphenated in the physical book, but there is a question sometimes as to + whether the hyphen should be retained in transcription. The reasons + behind some of these decisions are itemized. + </p> + <p><br /></p> + <h3>Production Notes Section:</h3> + <h4>1. Chapter Titles.</h4> + <p> + The Chapter Titles, such as <i>Doom</i> in Chapter XXI., were not + part of Twain's book. They remain from another version of this book. + The chapter titles are used in PG's + <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28803">Mark Twain index</a>, + so we have retained them. + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"></a> + </p> + <h4>2. The Author's Note.</h4> + <p> + The <i>Author’s Note to Those Extraordinary Twins</i> is actually + the author's introduction to the novella, <i>Those Extraordinary Twins.</i> + Twain originally produced this book with two parts: <i>Pudd'nhead + Wilson</i> and <i>Those Extraordinary Twins</i>. + </p> + <p> + <span class="smcap">Project Gutenberg</span> offers both stories, + so we present the <i>Author's Note</i> as the Introduction to <i>Those + Extraordinary Twins,</i> as Twain intended. If you want to read the + Author's Note, please visit the Introduction of our production of the + novella, + <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3185">Those + Extraordinary Twins</a>. + </p> + <p><br /></p> + + + <h3>Detailed Notes Section:</h3> + + <h4>Chapter 1.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_019">Page 19</a>, barber-shop was hyphenated between + two lines for spacing. The 1899 Harper & Brothers version + used "barber shop" in this spot. Even though barber-shop cannot + be transcribed as such, the assumption is that the 1894 version put in + the hyphen by mistake. We transcribed the word barber shop. + </p> + <h4>Chapter 2.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_034">Page 34</a>, changed ca’se to + ’ca’se, used as dialect for because, in the clause: + "but dat’s <strong>ca’se</strong> it’s mine." + The author used ’ca’se eighteen other times as dialect + for because, and did not use ca’se again. + </p> + <h4>Chapter 3.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_043">Page 43</a>, insert missing period after tomb. + </p> + <h4>Chapter 6.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_081">Page 81</a>, add a comma after door: "The twins + took a position near the <strong>door</strong> the widow stood at + Luigi’s side, Rowena stood beside Angelo,..." + </p> + <h4>Chapter 7.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_088">Page 88</a>, add a period after fault in the + sentence: The Judge laid himself out hospitably to make them have a + good time, and if there was a defect anywhere it was not his + fault<strong>.</strong> + </p> + <h4>Chapter 9.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_114">Page 114</a>, there is a word missing before + the semicolon in the clause: Tom sprang up and seized a billet of wood + and raised <strong> ;</strong> the 1899 Harper & Brothers + version provided the missing word, "it." + </p> + <h4>Chapter 11.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_131">Page 131</a>, change dicision to decision in the + clause: Luigi reserved his <strong>dicision.</strong> + </p> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_133">Page 133</a>, change comma to a period after + years in the sentence: “I never got a chance to try my hand at it, + and I may never get a chance; and yet if I ever do get it I shall be + found ready, for I have kept up my law-studies all these + <strong>years,”</strong> + </p> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_149">Page 149</a>, Correct spelling of Cappello to + Capello. The surname of the twins was Capello in the letter on page + 73, and two other times in Chapter 6. + </p> + <h4>Chapter 13.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_167">Page 167</a>, Change ’ to ” in + the sentence: “Why, my boy, you look desolate. Don’t take + it so hard. Try and forget you have been <strong>kicked.’</strong> + </p> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_176">Page 176</a>, ship-shape was hyphenated and + split between two lines for spacing. The 1899 Harper & Brothers + version of the novel used shipshape, and so will we. + </p> + <h4>Chapter 14.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_182">Page 182</a>, changed period after hatching to + question mark in the sentence: What could be hatching<strong>.</strong> + </p> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_184">Page 184</a>, remove comma after sha'n't, in + the clause: but if he doesn’t, I + sha’n’t<strong>,</strong> let on. + </p> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_189">Page 189</a>, low-down is hyphenated and split + between two lines for spacing. On Page 188, low-down is spelled with + a hyphen, and on pages 241 and 243 low-downest is also hyphenated. + There is no occurrence of lowdown. We transcribed low-down with a + hyphen: like a ornery <strong>low-down</strong> hound! + </p> + <h4>Chapter 16.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_216">Page 216</a>, Changed ? to ! in the sentence: + En keep on sayin’ it<strong>?</strong> + </p> + <h4>Chapter 18.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_229">Page 229</a>, Changed 'against to against in + the clause: with fury <strong>’against</strong> the + planter’s wife. + </p> + <p> + <a name="unauthorizedNote1" id="unauthorizedNote1"></a> + On <a href="#Page_233">Page 233</a>, Changed de to den in the clause + "en <strong>de</strong> good gracious me." The author always used + den for then, except in this case. De is dialect for the. Twain did + not correct this in the 1899 Harper & Brothers version of the novel, + but den makes more sense then de. Roxy was floating on the river, + and <strong>then</strong> she cried good gracious me, + because she spotted the <i>Grand Mogul</i>. + </p> + <p> + Changed day to dey in two places. The novel used dey as dialect for + they regularly, and almost consistently, except in two cases. Both + cases were presumed errata: + </p> + <ul> + <li>On <a href="#Page_232">Page 232</a>, en <strong><i>day</i></strong> + warn’t gwine to hurry</li> + <li>On <a href="#Page_229">Page 229</a>, en <strong>day</strong> knows how + to whale ’em, too. </li> + </ul> + <h4>Chapter 19.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_253">Page 253</a>, back-yard is hyphenated and split + between two lines for spacing. The 1899 Harper & Brothers version + of the novel used back-yard, and so will we. + </p> + <h4>Chapter 20.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_273">Page 273</a>, changed countenence to countenance + in the clause: “I don’t know about that,” and + Tom’s <strong>countenence</strong> darkened,... + </p> + <h4>Chapter 21.</h4> + <p> + <a name="unauthorizedNote3" id="unauthorizedNote3"></a> + On <a href="#Page_288">Page 288</a>, there are two quotes made by the + crowd in double quotes. Twain did not correct this in the 1899 + version of the novel by Harper & Brothers. But these lines are + surrounded by Wilson's narrative, which is already in double quotes. + Therefore, we have used single quotes for the two remarks from the + gallery. + </p> + <ul> + <li>‘Why, it’s so—I never noticed that before!’</li> + <li>‘Why, that’s so, too!’</li> + </ul> + <h4>Conclusion.</h4> + <p> + On <a href="#Page_302">Page 302</a>, removed in from the sentence: + "But we cannot follow his curious fate further—that + <strong>in</strong> would be a long story." + </p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 102 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/102-h/images/cover.jpg b/102-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0cb402 --- /dev/null +++ b/102-h/images/cover.jpg |
