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MTMark Twain

Mark Twain

Life dates: 1835 AD — 1910 AD

Huck’s own narration exposes conflicts between learned rules and lived friendship. Read his complaint about the widow beside his struggle over helping Jim, keeping the boy’s voice distinct from a direct instruction by Twain.

▷ Play this voiceSearch these words ↗Place in time ↗lovelifefriendshipdeathtimefaithjusticeknowledge

Life and writing

The catalogue identifies Mark Twain with lifetime years 1835–1910, credits E. W. Kemble as illustrator and David Widger for the electronic text. The checked English edition presents Huck’s first-person narration with distinctive grammar. That wording remains unchanged in the archive. Its HTML ISBN identifies this digital edition; a print publisher and passage composition dates are not established by the catalogue’s electronic release or update dates.

In Chapter I, Huck complains that the widow rejects smoking while taking snuff herself. His account reveals a perceived inconsistency; it does not establish a health claim about tobacco. In Chapter XXXI, he struggles with a racist teaching that helping Jim escape enslavement is sinful, and finds that his attempted prayer does not express his actual intention. Both selected extracts match the checked text under limited normalization. The ethical conflict needs its surrounding narrative, rather than a detached religious rule attributed directly to Twain.

Reading this voice

Read Huck’s account in Chapter I and his decision in Chapter XXXI with the surrounding action. Attend to who has taught the rules he repeats and what his friendship with Jim makes him question. The historical text contains racist language; its narrative context remains essential.

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Quotations and sayings

17c. 1872 AD
I felt good and all washed clean of sin for the first time I had ever felt so in my life, and I knowed I could pray now. But I didn't do it straight off, but laid the paper down and set there thinking--thinking how good it was all this happened so, and how near I come to being lost and going to hell. And went on thinking. And got to thinking over our trip down the river; and I see Jim before me all the time: in the day and in the night-time, sometimes moonlight, sometimes storms, and we a-floating along, talking and singing and laughing. But somehow I couldn't seem to strike no places to harden me against him, but only the other kind. I'd see him standing my watch on top of his'n, 'stead of calling me, so I could go on sleeping; and see him how glad he was when I come back out of the fog; and when I come to him again in the swamp, up there where the feud was; and such-like times; and would always call me honey, and pet me and do everything he could think of for me, and how good he always was; and at last I struck the time I saved him by telling the men we had small-pox aboard, and he was so grateful, and said I was the best friend old Jim ever had in the world, and the ONLY one he's got now; and then I happened to look around and see that paper.It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a-trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself:"All right, then, I'll GO to hell"--and tore it up.
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20c. 1872 AD
O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.
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