Tom Sawyer - Chapter 6 - Bedtime Story

21:45

21:45

Tom Sawyer - Chapter 6 - Bedtime Story

Rated

4.7

Type

talks

Activity

Meditation

Suitable for

Everyone

Plays

27

This recording stays sentence-by-sentence close to Mark Twain’s original classic, while gently updating language to make it easier to understand for today’s listeners. Care has been taken to remove or soften outdated and offensive terms, allowing the heart, humor, and mischief of the story to shine through without distraction. Perfect for relaxation, mindful listening, bedtime enjoyment, or introducing classic literature to a new generation, this reading preserves the charm, wit, and playful spirit that have made Tom Sawyer beloved for over a century. For those seeking nostalgia, families listening together, and anyone who wants to experience a literary classic in a more inclusive and approachable way.

Literature Relaxation Bedtime Story Childhood Imagination Friendship Humor Mischief Nostalgia Rural Life Classic Novel Childhood Adventures Friendship And Rivalry Childhood Innocence Humor And Fun Mischief And Consequences

Meet your Teacher

Schweiz

Meet your Teacher

Schweiz

Transcript

Hello, It's Jeanie here. We'll be continuing with Mark Twain's The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Chapter 6. Monday morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always did, Because it meant another week of slow suffering at school. He usually began the day wishing there hadn't been a holiday in between, Because it made going back into captivity and chains feel even more hateful. Tom lay there thinking. After a while, It occurred to him that he wished he were sick, Then he could stay home from school. There was a vague possibility there. He took stock of his body. He found no illness, So he checked again. This time he thought he could detect symptoms of stomach cramps, And he started encouraging them with real hope. But they soon weakened and then faded away completely. He thought again. Suddenly he noticed something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. That was lucky. He was just about to begin groaning, As a starter, He called it, When he realised that if he brought that argument into court, His aunt would pull the tooth and that would hurt, So he decided to keep the loose tooth in reserve for now and search for something else. Nothing came up for a little while, And then he remembered hearing the doctor talk about a certain condition that kept a patient in bed for two or three weeks and threatened to cost him a finger. So Tom eagerly pulled his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up to inspect it. But now he didn't know what symptoms were required. Still, It seemed to be worth the risk, So he began groaning with impressive enthusiasm. Sid slept on, Unaware. Tom groaned louder and imagined he could actually feel pain in the toe. Sid gave no response. By now, Tom was panting from the effort. He took a break, Then filled his lungs and produced a string of excellent groans. Sid just kept snoring. Tom got annoyed. He said, Sid, Sid, And shook him. That worked, And Tom began groaning again. Sid yawned, Stretched, And then propped himself up on an elbow with a snort and stared at Tom. Tom kept groaning. Sid said, Tom, Hey, Tom. No answer. Hey, Tom, What's the matter, Tom? And he shook him and looked anxiously at his face. Tom moaned. Oh, Don't, Sid. Don't jiggle me. Why? What's wrong, Tom? I have to call Aunt Pony. No, Don't. It might pass her for a while. Don't call anyone. But I have to. Don't groan like that, Tom. It's awful. How long have you been like this? Hours. Ow. Oh, Don't move so, Sid. Sid, You'll kill me. Tom, Why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, Don't. It makes my skin fall to hear you. Tom, What's wrong? Tom groaned out. I forgive you everything, Sid. Oh, Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone. Oh, Tom, You aren't dying, Are you? Don't, Tom. Oh, No, Don't. I forgive everybody, Sid. Oh, Tell them so, Sid. And, Sid, You give me your window sash and my one-eyed cat to the new girl who's come to town and tell her. But Sid had snatched up his clothes and run off. Tom was truly suffering now, His imagination working well, And his groan sounding so convincingly real. Sid rushed downstairs and cried, Oh, Aunt Polly, Come. Tom's dying. Dying? Yes, Ma'am. Don't wait. Come quick. Nonsense. I don't believe it. But she ran upstairs anyway, And Sid and Mary were close behind her, And her face turned white and her lips trembled. When she reached the bed, She gasped. You, Tom, Tom, What's the matter with you? Oh, Auntie, Um, What's the matter with you? What's the matter with you, Child? Oh, Auntie, My sore toe's gone rotten. The old woman sank into a chair and laughed a little, Then cried a little, Then did both at once. That steadied her, And she said, Tom, What a fright you gave me. Now stop this nonsense and get out of bed. The groan stopped, And the toe pain vanished. Tom felt a little foolish, And he said, Aunt Polly, It seemed like it was going bad, And it hurt so much, I forgot all about my tooth. Your tooth? What's wrong with your tooth? One of them is loose, And it aches something terrible. There, There, Don't start that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well, Your tooth is loose, But you're not going to die from that. Mary, Get me a silk thread and a chunk of coal from the kitchen. Tom said, Oh, Please, Auntie, Don't pull it. It doesn't hurt anymore, I swear. I won't move if it does. Please don't, Auntie, I don't want to stay home from school. Oh, You don't, Do you? So all that fuss was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go fishing. Tom, Tom, I love you so, And you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your nonsense. By now, The dental equipment was ready. The old woman looped one end of the silk thread around Tom's tooth and tied the other one to the end of a bedpost. Then she grabbed a hot coal and suddenly shoved it almost into the boy's face. The tooth now hung, Dangling from the bedpost. But every trial had its compensation. As Tom headed to school after breakfast, He was the envy of every boy he met because of the gap of his upper teeth let him spit in a new and impressive way. He gathered a whole following of boys eager to watch, And one boy who had cut his finger and had been the center of attention and admiration up till now suddenly found himself deserted, Stripped of his glory. His heart sank, And he said with scorn that he didn't truly feel that there wasn't anything special to spit like Tom Sawyer. But another boy said, Sour grapes, And he wandered off, A wrecked hero. Before long, Tom met the village's youngest outcast, Huckleberry Finn, The son of the town drunk. Huckleberry was openly hated and feared by all the mothers in town because he was lazy, Lawless, Rude, And bad. And because all of their children admired him, Loved his forbidden friendship, And wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the other respectable boys. He envied Huckleberry's flashy outsider freedom, And he had strict orders not to play with him. So naturally, He played with him every chance he got. Huckleberry was always dressed in cast-off clothes from grown men, And they were forever blooming with rips and fluttering with rags. His hat was a wreck, With a big crescent torn out of the brim. His coat, When he wore one, Hung nearly to his heels, And the back buttons were far down behind him. But one suspender held up his trousers. The seat sagged low and held nothing. The frayed legs dragged in the dirt when they weren't rolled up. Huckleberry came and went as he pleased. He slept on doorsteps in good weather and in empty hogsheds when it rained. He didn't have to go to school or church or call anyone master or obey anybody. He could go fishing or swimming whenever and wherever he wanted, And stay as long as it suited him. Nobody forbade him to fight. He could stay up as late as he liked, And he was always the first boy to go barefoot in spring and the last to put shoes back on in fall. He never had to wash or clean clothes. He could swear amazingly well. In short, Everything that makes life wonderful, That boy had. So thought every stressed, Constrained, Respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom greeted the romantic outcast. Hello, Huckleberry. Hello yourself and see how you like it. What's that you've got? Dead cat. Let me see him, Huck. Oh, He's stiff. Where did you get him? Bought him off a boy. What did he give you? I gave him a blue ticket and a bladder I got from the slaughterhouse. Where'd you get the blue ticket? Bought it off Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hopstick. Say, What are dead cats good for, Huck? Good for? Curing warts. No, Really, I know something better. Bet you don't. What? Spunk water. Spunk water? I wouldn't give it a dime for spunk water. You wouldn't, Huh? Ever try it? No, I haven't, But Bob Tanner did. Who told you that? Well, He told Jeff Thatcher, And Jeff told Johnny Baker, And Johnny told Jim Hollis, And Jim told Ben Rogers, And Ben told a black guy, And he told me. There. Well, So what? They're all lying. Now you tell me how Bob Tanner did it, Huck. Well, He dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the river rainwater stood. In the daytime? Sure. With his face towards the stump? Yes, At least I think so. Did he say anything? I don't think he did. I don't know. Aha. And you're all talking about curing warts with spunk water in such a foolish way. That won't do any good. You have to go all alone into the middle of the woods where you know there's going to be spunk water stump. And right at midnight, You back up against the stump and jam your hand in the water and say, Barleycorn, Barleycorn, Indian meal, Shorts, Spunk water, Spunk water, Swallow these warts. And then you walk away fast, 11 steps, With your eyes shut, And then you turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anyone, Because if you speak, The charm's broken. Well, That sounds like a good way, But that isn't how Bob Tanner did it. No, Sir, You can bet he didn't, Because he's the wartiest boy in town, And he wouldn't have a wart on him if he knew how to work spunk water. I've taken thousands of warts off my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much, I'm always covered in warts. Sometimes I take them off with a bean. Yeah, Beans work, I've done that. Have you? What's your way? You split the bean, Cut the wart so it bleeds, And then smear the blood on one half of the bean, And dig a hole and bury it around the night at a crossroads in the dark of the moon, And then you bury the other half. You see, The half with blood on it keeps pulling and pulling and trying to get back to the other half, And that helps pull the blood and draw the wart, And pretty soon it comes off. Yeah, That's it, Huck, That's it. Though when you're burying it, If you say, Down, Beans, Off, Wart, Come no more to bother me, It works better. That's how Joe Harper does it, And he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywhere. But say, How do you cure them with dead cats? You take your cat and you go to the graveyard around the night when someone wicked has been buried, And at midnight the devil will come, Or maybe two or three, But you can't see them, And you can only hear something like wind, Or maybe hear them talking. And when they've carried that fellow away, You throw your cat after them and say, Devil follow corpse, Cat follow devil, Warts follow cat, I'm done with you. That'll remove any wart. Sounds right. Ever try it, Huck? No, But my mother Hopkins told me. Well, I reckon it's true then. They say she's a witch. Say, Why, Tom? I know she is. She bewitched my dad. My dad say so himself. He came by one day and saw she was witching him, So he picked up a rock and if she hadn't dodged it, He'd have hit her. Well, That very night he rolled off a shed where he was lying drunk and it broke his arm. That's awful. How did he know she was witching him? Easy. Dad can always tell. He says when they stare at you steady, They're witching you, Especially if they mumble, Because when they mumble, They're saying the Lord's prayer backwards. Say, Huck, When are you going to try the cat? Tonight. I reckon they'll come for old Hoss Williams tonight. But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night? What are you talking about? How could they, How could their charms work before midnight? And then it's Sunday. Devils don't roam around much on Sunday, I reckon. Oh, I never thought of that. That's true. Let me go with you. Sure, If you're not scared. Scared? Not likely. Will you meow? Yes, And you meow back if you get the chance. Last time you kept me meowing until old Hay started throwing rocks at me and yelling, Damn this cat. So I threw a brick through his window. But don't you tell. I won't. I couldn't meow that night because Aunt Polly was watching me. But I'll meow this time. Say, What's that? Nothing but a tick. Where'd you get it? Out in the woods. What'll you take for it? I don't know. I don't want to sell it. All right. It's a pretty small tick anyway. Oh, Anyone can find a tick that doesn't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's good enough tick for me. There are tons of ticks. I could have a thousand ticks if I wanted. Well, Why don't you? Because you know you can't. This is an early tick. I reckon it's the first one I've seen this year. Say, Huck, I'll give you my tooth for it. Let me see it. Tom pulled out a piece of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry looked at it with longing. The temptation was strong. At last he said, Is it genuine? Tom lifted his lip and showed him the empty gap. All right, Said Huckleberry. It's a trade. Tom shut the tick inside the percussion cap box that had recently been the Pinch Bugs prison, And the boys separated, Each feeling richer than before. When Tom reached the small, Isolated wooden schoolhouse, He walked in briskly with an air of someone who had come as fast as he honestly could. He hung his hat on the peak and dropped into a seat with business-like eagerness. The teacher, Enthroned in his big, Split-bottom armchair, Was dozing, Lulled by the sleepy hum of studying. The disturbance woke him. Thomas Sawyer? Tom knew when his full name was used, Trouble was coming. Sir, Come up here. Now, Sir, Why are you late again, As usual? Tom was about to hide behind a lie when he saw two long braids of yellow hair hanging down the back and recognized with the electric certainty of love. And besides, That figure was the only empty seat on the girl's side of the classroom. He instantly said, I stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn. The teacher's pulse seemed to stop and he stared helplessly. The buzz of studying died away. The students wondered whether this reckless boy had lost his mind. The teacher said, You, You did what? Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn. He was no mistaking the words. Thomas Sawyer, That is the most astonishing confession I have ever heard. A simple beating won't cover this offence. Take off your jacket. The teacher's arm worked until it was tired and the supply of switches was notably reduced. Then came the order. Now, Sir, Go and sit with the girls and let this be a warning to you. The ripple of giggles that moved through the room seemed to embarrass Tom. But in truth, That effect came more from his reverent awe of his unknown idol and the thrilling fear mixed into his good fortune. He sat at the end of a long pine bench and the girl scooted away from him with a head toss. Nudges, Winks and whispers traveled around the room. But Tom sat still with his arms on the low desk and appeared to study his book. After a while, Attention drifted away from him and the usual schoolroom murmur rose again in the dull ear. Soon Tom began stealing secret glances at the girl. She noticed, Made a face at him and turned her head away for a minute. When she cautiously faced him again, A peach lay in front of her. She pushed it away. Tom quietly put it back. She pushed it away again, But with less anger. Tom patiently returned it again. Then she let it stay. Tom wrote on his slate. Please take it. I've got more. The girl glanced at the words but gave no sign. Now Tom began drawing on the slate, Hiding his work with his left hand. For a time, The girl refused to notice. But soon her curiosity betrayed itself in tiny, Almost invisible ways. Tom kept working as if unaware. The girl made a hesitant, Noncommittal attempt to see, But Tom didn't let on that he'd noticed. At last she gave in and whispered, Let me see it. Tom partly uncovered a gloomy caricature of a house with two gables and a corkscrew curl of smoke coming out of the chimney. Now the girl's interest grabbed hold and she forgot everything else. When the drawing was finished, She stared a moment and whispered, It's nice, Make a man. The artist built a man in the front yard that looked like a Derek. He could have stepped over the house, But the girl wasn't picky. She liked the monster and whispered, It's a beautiful man. Now make me coming along. Tom drew an hourglass shape with a full mood and straw limbs and gave the wide fingers a huge fan. The girl said, It's so nice, I wish I could draw. It's easy, Tom whispered, I'll teach you. Oh, Will you, When? At noon. Do you go home for dinner? I'll stay if you will. Good, That's great, What's your name? Becky Thatcher, What's yours? Oh, I know, It's Tom Sawyer. That's the name they whip me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. Will you call me Tom? Yeah. So Tom began writing something on the slate, Hiding the words from the girl. But she wasn't shy this time. She begged to see. Tom said, Oh, It isn't anything. Yes, It is. No, It isn't. You don't want to see it. Yes, I do. I really do. Please let me. You'll tell. No, I won't. Honest and truly, I doubly truly won't. You won't want to tell anyone at all, As long as you live. No, I won't tell anyone either. Now let me see. Oh, You don't want to see. Now you're treating me like that. I will see. And she put her small hands on it. A little scuffle followed. Tom pretending to resist seriously, But letting his hand slip little by little until the words appear. I love you. Oh, You bad thing. And she smacked his hand sharply, But she blushed and looked pleased all the same. Just then, The boy felt a slow, Unavoidable grip closing on his ear and a steady lifting pull. Held in the clamp, He was carried across the room and placed back in his own seat under the show, A shower of giggles from the whole school. Then the teacher stood over him for a few awful moments and finally returned to his throne without saying a word. But even though Tom's ear burned, His heart was triumphant. As the room quietened, Tom made a sincere attempt to study, But the chaos inside him was too strong. In turn, He joined the reading class and mangled it. Then the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, Mountains into rivers and rivers into continents until chaos returned. And then the spelling class and got knocked down by a string of baby words until he ended up at the bottom and gave up the pewter medal he had been wearing proudly for months.