Like most boys, Tom Sawyer would rather play hooky than go to school. But Tom's lively imagination and thirst for adventure lead him into the most extraordinary situations, from a search for buried treasure to the accidental witness of a murder in a graveyard. All of his exploits — tricking his pals into whitewashing a fence, sharing his medicine with the family cat, disrupting a church service with a pinching insect — are flavored with the humor for which his creator, Mark Twain, is justly famed. In writing this great American classic, Twain drew upon his own memories of life in a small Missouri town before the Civil War. Since the book's 1876 publication, generations of readers of all ages have laughed at Tom's hijinks and taken him into their hearts, along with Huckleberry Finn, Becky Thatcher, Aunt Polly, and other memorable characters. This new Dover Evergreen Classics edition offers a fresh introduction to the lovable scamp and the enduring joys of his escapades. After the Civil War, Samuel Clemens (1835–1910) left his small town to seek work as a riverboat pilot. As Mark Twain, the Missouri native found his place in the world. Author, journalist, lecturer, wit, and sage, Twain created enduring works that have enlightened and amused readers of all ages for generations. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer By MARK TWAIN Dover Publications, Inc. Copyright © 2018 Dover Publications, Inc. All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-486-82253-2 Contents Preface, vii, 1. Tom Plays, Fights, and Hides, 1, 2. The Glorious Whitewasher, 11, 3. Busy at War and Love, 18, 4. Showing Off in Sunday School, 26, 5. The Pinchbug and His Prey, 39, 6. Tom Meets Becky, 46, 7. Tick-Running and a Heartbreak, 60, 8. A Pirate Bold to Be, 68, 9. Tragedy in the Graveyard, 75, 10. Dire Prophecy of the Howling Dog, 83, 11. Conscience Racks Tom, 91, 12. The Cat and the Painkiller, 97, 13. The Pirate Crew Set Sail, 104, 14. Happy Camp of the Freebooters, 113, 15. Tom's Stealthy Visit Home, 121, 16. First Pipes — "I've Lost My Knife", 127, 17. Pirates at Their Own Funeral, 139, CHAPTER 1 Tom Plays, Fights, and Hides "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked through them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service — she could have seen through a pair of stove lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll —" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance, and shouted: "Y-o-u-u Tom! " There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What is that truck?" " I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam — that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air — the peril was desperate — "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled, on the instant, scrambled up the high board fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a-laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that