Humor. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

Waikato Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2054, 5 September 1885, Page 6 (Supplement)

Humor. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

By Mauk Twain.

(Continued.) i Next day, towards night, we laid up under a little willow tow-head out in the middle, where there was a village on each side of the river, and the duke and king begun to lay out a plan for working them towns. Jim he spoke to the duke, and said he hoped it wouldn't take but a few hours, beoause it got mighty heavy and tires/ me to him when he had to lay all day in the wigwam tied with the rope. You see, when we left him all alone we had to tie him, because if anybody happened on him all by himself and not tied, it wouldn't look muoh like ha was ft runaway nigger, you know. So the dnke said it wat kind o£ hard to have to lay roped all day, and he'd cipher out some way t3 gat around it. He was uncommon bright, the duke was, and he soon Btruok it. He dressed Jim up in King Lear's outfit— it was a long ourtaincalico gown, and a white horse-hair wig and whiskers ; and then he took his theatre-paint and painted Jim's face and hands and ears and neck all over a dead solid blue, like a man that's been drownded nine days. Blamed if he warn't the horriblest looking outrage I ever see. Then the duke took and wrote out a sign on a Bhingle so — Sick Arab — but harmless 'when not out of his head. And he nailed that shingle to a lath, and stood the lath up four or five foot in front of the wigwam. Jim was satisfied. He said it was a sight better than laying tied a couple of years every day and trembling all over every time there was a sound. The duke told him to make himself free and easy, and if anybody ever come meddling around, he must hop out of the wigwam, and oarry on a little, and fetch a howl or two like a wild beast, and he reckoned they would light out and leave him alone. Which was sound enough judgment ; but you take the average man, and he wouldn't wait for him to howl. Why, he didn't only look like he was dead, he looked considerable more than that,

'Ihtpe ra|< oilK<v c van'" 1 to irjM' Kjnt'Uch sKU'in, lui'fM'w n,< « <? ■"tt«oir>uc ) ) nv-rv in it, but t'i".\ j i i -'' i idn't hn end 1 , b. oau'-e ma; Iw i< ■ i> * < > >> it a worked ft! 't q down by ihis im. ' ;ey couldn't hi!. r>o proj a cfc that i-bi'-.1, fx*ct)y; to at l»«t ti^n duke flftid ha r< < l-mn i he'd Jay c-fit ond * cilv his brainy an )k» r • r two ard foo if lie couldn': put h.j i m tiling <>n the Aikanstiw villf^e; end t.i Kii>ij ho «)Io t vr] )•« «t»r 'ifl drop o\or totVl.fr tillage, wniiout juiy pii.ll, bus just trust in Providence to lead him the piofituM'j waj — riKMiiing the devil, I reckon. We had nil b»ujjhf ftoreolothpn^' -■ " - topped l<»bt ; nnd now luo kiiig JjUL h,oju,, u.ul lie told rue to put raine on. I done it, of course. Itae king's dud- was all black, and he did look real sweli und staroby. I never knoved how clothes could change a body before. Wny, bc'ore, hp looked lik<3 tho orrrriest old nn tht.t ever »«' ; but now, when he'd take oif Ms ne<? white beaver and make a bow and do a smiie, he looked that grand and food and pious that you'd b^v ue hud walked right out of tho ark, and aiajbe was old L9viticus himself. Jim cleaned up the canoe, end I go* my paddle read}. There wts a big steamboat laying at the nhoie away up nnier the point, about three mites above town — been there a couple of hours, takirg on height. Sot;* the kin>; : '■ .Stein' how I'm dressed, I uc\cn maybe 1 better arrives down from St. L-mih cr Cincinnati, or some other b- f ; plsuse. Go fur the ekaraooat, Huukltberry; wu'Jl come down fo the village on bei." I didn't have to be ordered twic,\ to £o and take a eteatuboac nde. I iruiud tbe chorea lutlf a mile above the village, and then went fuooti it.' along the blufi bank in the ca?y \vtucr. Prjtty soon we oome to a nic^ innocent looking younr; country jike 6' tung on a log swabbiug the b\v us > ft ut his fuco, for ie v<a<! powerful wanu weather; and he had ,a couple of big cupel bß;.;tf by him. " Eun her noae in abort*,' 1 fayd the king. I dene it. " Whei' you bound for, joung man ? " •• F.ir the steamboat; going to Ode ins " "G t hboaid," fays the king. " ilrld on a minute, my servant '11 help you with them bb c .j°. Jump oul aud help tho gentltnan, Adolp'iiJo "— meiuiDg me. 1 Be°. I done «o, and then we all three staitod on again. The young ohap was mighty thankfill; tsdid it whs tough work toting hid baggaf o fcuch weather. He aektd the king wheie ho >u 3 going, and the Lio^ told him he'd c<\na Jown the river and liiuded at the other villugo this morning, and now he whb going up a f<vW mile to see an old friend on a faim jup th< re. Tbe joung fellow fays : ' When I fkfct see you, I saja to myeelf, ' It's Mr. WilKe, sure, and he come mighty neai grtling here in lime. 1 But then I b&jb again, • No, I rcckoa it ain't him, or else he wouldn't be paddling up the iiver.' You unit him, are you?" " No, my name's Blodgett— Reverend Elexander Blodgett, I s'pose I muit say, as I'm one o' the Lord's poor servants. But still I'm just as able to bs sorry for Mr. Wilks for not arriving in time, all the same, if he's missed anything by it— which I hope he hasn't." " Well, he don't mis 3 any pi opeity by it, because he'll get that all right ; but ho missed eeeing his brother Peter die— which he mayn't mind, nobody can tell us te that— but his brother would a give anything in this world to see lavi before he died ; never talked about nothing else all theso three weeks; hadn't ei*eii him since thejr was boys together— and hadn t ever seen his brother William at all —that's the deaf and dumb one— William aits't more than thirty or thirty-five. Peter and George was the only ones that come out here ; George was tho married brother ; him and hia wife both died last year. Harvey and William's the only ones that's left now ; and, as I was saying, they haven't got here in time." "Did anybody 3end 'em word ? " " Ob, yes, a month or two ago, when IVier was firat took ; beoause Peter Baid then that he felt like he warn't going to get well thia time. You see, he was pretty old,and George'a g'yirls was too young to be much company for him, except Mary Jane, the redheaded one; and so he was kinder lonesome after George and his wife died, and didn't seem to care muoh to live. He most desperately wanted to see Harvey— and William, too, for that matter — because hp was one of them kind that can't bear to make a will. He left a letter behind for Harvey, and said he'd told in it where his money was hid, and how he wanted the rest of the property divided up so George's g'yirls would be all right, for George didn't leave nothing. And that letter was all they could get him to put a pen to." "Why do you reokon Harvey don't come? Wher' does he live ? " " Oh, he lives in England— Sheffield— preaohes there — hasn't ever been in this country. He hasn't had any too muoh time — and besides he mightn't a got the letter at all, you know." " Too bad, too bad ho couldn't a lived to see his brothers, poor soul. You going to Orleans, you Bay ? " " Yes, but that ain't only t part of it. I'm going in a ship next Wednesday for Ryo Janeero, where my uncle lives." "It's a pretty long journey. But it'll be lovely ; I wisht I was agoing. Is Ma»y Jane the eldest ? How old is the others ?" "Mary Jane's nineteen, Susan's fifteen, and Joanna's about fourteen — that's the one that gives herself to good works and ha? a hare-Up." " Poor things 1 to be left in the cold world so." " Well, they could be worse off. Old Peter had friends, and they ain't going to let them come to no harm. There's Hobson, the Babtis" preaoher; and Deacon Lot Hovcy, and Ben Bucker, and Abner Snaokleford, and Lsvi Bell, the lawyer ; and Dr. Robinson, and their wives, and the widow Bartley, and — well, there's a lot of them; but these are the ones that Peler was thiokest with, and used to write about sometimes, when he wrote home, so Harvey '11 know where to look for friends when he get'a there." Well, the old man he went on asking questions till he just fairly emptied that young fellow. Blamed if he didn't inquire about everybody and everything in that blessed town, and all about all tho Wilkses; and about Peter's business— whioh was a tanner ; aud about George's — which was a oarpenter ; and about Harvey's — whioh was a dissentering minister ; an so on, and so on. Then he say 3: " What did you want to walk all the way up to the steamboat for ?" " Beoause sho's a big Orleans boat, and I was afeard she mightn't stop there. When they're deep they won't etop for a hail. A Cincinnati boat will, but this is a St. Louis one." " Was Peter Wilks well off ?" " Oh, yes, pretty well off. He had houses and land, and it's reckoned he left three or four thousand in cash hid up Bom'ers." " When did you Bay ho died? " " I didn't Bay, but it was l»at night." " Funeral to-morrow, likely ? " "Yes, 'bout the middle of the day." " Well, it's all terrible sad ; but we've all got to go, one time or another. So what we want to do is to be prepared ; then wc'ie all right." " Yes, sir, it's the bost way. Ma used to always say that." When we struok the baat, she was about done loading, and pretty soon she got oft. The king never baid nothing about going aboarJ, so I lost my ride, after all. When the boat was gQU£, the king made me paddle up another milo to a lonesome place, then ho got ashore, and says : " Now hustle back, right off, and fotoh tho duke up here, and the new carpet-bags. And if he's gone over to t'other side, go ov« there and git him. And tell him to git hiiufdf up regaidless. Shove along, now." (To be Continued.)