YOU don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth. That is nothing. I never seen anybody but lied one time or another, without it was Aunt Polly, or the widow, or maybe Mary. Aunt Polly -- Tom's Aunt Polly, she is -- and Mary, and the Widow Douglas is all told about in that book, which is mostly a true book, with some stretchers, as I said before.
Now the way that the book winds up is this: Tom and me found the money that the robbers hid in the cave, and it made us rich. We got six thousand dollars apiece -- all gold. It was an awful sight of money when it was piled up. Well, Judge Thatcher1 he took it and put it out at interest, and it fetched us a dollar a day apiece all the year round -- more than a body could tell what to do with. The Widow Douglas she took me for her son, and allowed she would sivilize me; but it was rough living in the house all the time, considering how dismal2 regular and decent the widow was in all her ways; and so when I couldn't stand it no longer I lit out. I got into my old rags and my sugar-hogshead again, and was free and satisfied. But Tom Sawyer he hunted me up and said he was going to start a band of robbers, and I might join if I would go back to the widow and be respectable. So I went back.
The widow she cried over me, and called me a poor lost lamb, and she called me a lot of other names, too, but she never meant no harm by it. She put me in them new clothes again, and I couldn't do nothing but sweat and sweat, and feel all cramped3 up. Well, then, the old thing commenced again. The widow rung a bell for supper, and you had to come to time. When you got to the table you couldn't go right to eating, but you had to wait for the widow to tuck down her head and grumble4 a little over the victuals5, though there warn't really anything the matter with them, -- that is, nothing only everything was cooked by itself. In a barrel of odds6 and ends it is different; things get mixed up, and the juice kind of swaps8 around, and the things go better.
After supper she got out her book and learned me about Moses and the Bulrushers, and I was in a sweat to find out all about him; but by and by she let it out that Moses had been dead a considerable long time; so then I didn't care no more about him, because I don't take no stock in dead people.
Pretty soon I wanted to smoke, and asked the widow to let me. But she wouldn't. She said it was a mean practice and wasn't clean, and I must try to not do it any more. That is just the way with some people. They get down on a thing when they don't know nothing about it. Here she was a-bothering about Moses, which was no kin7 to her, and no use to anybody, being gone, you see, yet finding a power of fault with me for doing a thing that had some good in it. And she took snuff, too; of course that was all right, because she done it herself.
Her sister, Miss Watson, a tolerable slim old maid, with goggles9 on, had just come to live with her, and took a set at me now with a spelling-book. She worked me middling hard for about an hour, and then the widow made her ease up. I couldn't stood it much longer. Then for an hour it was deadly dull, and I was fidgety. Miss Watson would say, "Don't put your feet up there, Huckleberry;" and "Don't scrunch10 up like that, Huckleberry -- set up straight;" and pretty soon she would say, "Don't gap and stretch like that, Huckleberry -- why don't you try to behave?" Then she told me all about the bad place, and I said I wished I was there. She got mad then, but I didn't mean no harm. All I wanted was to go somewheres; all I wanted was a change, I warn't particular. She said it was wicked to say what I said; said she wouldn't say it for the whole world; she was going to live so as to go to the good place. Well, I couldn't see no advantage in going where she was going, so I made up my mind I wouldn't try for it. But I never said so, because it would only make trouble, and wouldn't do no good.
Now she had got a start, and she went on and told me all about the good place. She said all a body would have to do there was to go around all day long with a harp11 and sing, forever and ever. So I didn't think much of it. But I never said so. I asked her if she reckoned Tom Sawyer would go there, and she said not by a considerable sight. I was glad about that, because I wanted him and me to be together.
Miss Watson she kept pecking at me, and it got tiresome12 and lonesome. By and by they fetched the niggers in and had prayers, and then everybody was off to bed. I went up to my room with a piece of candle, and put it on the table. Then I set down in a chair by the window and tried to think of something cheerful, but it warn't no use. I felt so lonesome I most wished I was dead. The stars were shining, and the leaves rustled13 in the woods ever so mournful; and I heard an owl14, away off, who-whooing about somebody that was dead, and a whippowill and a dog crying about somebody that was going to die; and the wind was trying to whisper something to me, and I couldn't make out what it was, and so it made the cold shivers run over me. Then away out in the woods I heard that kind of a sound that a ghost makes when it wants to tell about something that's on its mind and can't make itself understood, and so can't rest easy in its grave, and has to go about that way every night grieving. I got so down-hearted and scared I did wish I had some company. Pretty soon a spider went crawling up my shoulder, and I flipped15 it off and it lit in the candle; and before I could budge16 it was all shriveled up. I didn't need anybody to tell me that that was an awful bad sign and would fetch me some bad luck, so I was scared and most shook the clothes off of me. I got up and turned around in my tracks three times and crossed my breast every time; and then I tied up a little lock of my hair with a thread to keep witches away. But I hadn't no confidence. You do that when you've lost a horseshoe that you've found, instead of nailing it up over the door, but I hadn't ever heard anybody say it was any way to keep off bad luck when you'd killed a spider.
I set down again, a-shaking all over, and got out my pipe for a smoke; for the house was all as still as death now, and so the widow wouldn't know. Well, after a long time I heard the clock away off in the town go boom -- boom -- boom -- twelve licks; and all still again -- stiller than ever. Pretty soon I heard a twig17 snap down in the dark amongst the trees -- something was a stirring. I set still and listened. Directly I could just barely hear a "me-yow! me-yow!" down there. That was good! Says I, "me-yow! me-yow!" as soft as I could, and then I put out the light and scrambled18 out of the window on to the shed. Then I slipped down to the ground and crawled in among the trees, and, sure enough, there was Tom Sawyer waiting for me.
你要是没有看过一本叫做《汤姆·索亚历险记》①的书，你就不会知道我这个人。不过这没有什么。那本书是马克·吐温先生写的，他大体上讲的是实话。有些事是他生发开来的，不过大体上，他讲的是实话。不过，实话不实话算不了什么。我没有见过从来没有撒过一回谎的人。这一回不说，另外一回就说。葆莉姨妈也好，那位寡妇也好，也许还有玛丽，都这样。葆莉姨妈——就是汤姆的葆莉姨妈——还有玛丽，还有道格拉斯寡妇，有关她们的事，在那本书里都讲了——那是一本大体上讲实话的书，有些是生发开来的，这我在上面说过了。
①为本书的姐妹篇，参阅有关本书故事的地点、时间的注。
那本书的结尾是这样：汤姆和我找到了强盗藏在那个山洞里的钱，这一下我们可都发了。我们俩，一人得了六千块钱——全是金灿灿的。把钱堆了起来，乍一看，好不吓人。后来，由撒切尔法官拿去放利息，我们俩每人每天得一块钱，一年到头，天天这样——真是多的叫人没法办。道格拉斯寡妇，她把我认做她的儿子。她许下了话，要教我学学文明规矩①。可是一天到晚，耽在这间屋里，有多难受。你想，寡妇的行为举止，一桩桩，一件件，全都那么刻板，那么一本正经，这有多丧气。这样，到了我实在受不了的那一天，我就溜之大吉啦。我重新穿上了我原来的破衣烂衫，重新钻进了那只原本装糖的大木桶里，好不自由，好不逍遥自在。可是汤姆想方设法找到了我，说他要发起组织一个强盗帮，要是我能回到寡妇家，过得体体面面，就可以参加他们一起，于是我就回去了。
寡妇对我大哭了一场，把我叫做一只迷途的羔羊，还叫我别的许多名称，不过，她绝对没有什么恶意。她让我又穿上了新衣裳，我实在一点办法也没有，只是直冒汗，憋得难受。啊，这么一来，那老的一套就又重新开始啦。寡妇打铃开饭，你就得准时到。到了饭桌子跟前，你可不能马上吃起来，你得等着。等寡妇低下头来，朝饭菜叽哩咕噜挑剔几句，尽管这些饭菜没什么好挑剔的。就是说，每道菜都是单做的。要是一桶杂七杂八的东西，那就不一样，各样菜和在一起烧，连汤带水，味道就格外鲜美。
①“教我学学文明规矩”（sivilizeme，——应为civilizeme，作sivilizeme乃
哈克讲的密苏里土话的发音）。哈克后出走河上，反对这类“文明规矩”是主要原因之一。这既为哈克主导性格所在，亦为全书主旨所在。全书末了一句为了反对“学学文明规矩”因而不愿回家，准备继续远走新区，这回应了本书开宗明义点出的话。可见反对当时“文明规矩”的主旨，和反黑奴制的思想，这两者一起贯串全书。参普烈乞特《美国第一部本土产生的杰作》（１９４１），载英格《哈克·芬评论资料集——百年纪念评论选》（１９８４）
吃过晚饭，她就拿出她那本书来，跟我讲摩西和蒲草箱的故事①。我急得直冒汗，急着要弄清楚一切有关他的事。不过，她隔了一会儿才点明摩西是死了很久很久的了。这样，我就不再为他操什么心了，因为我对死了的人是根本没有兴趣的。
①《旧约·出埃及》，第二章。说的是埃及公主收养以色列一妇女的弃儿。到后代，摩西率领受压迫的以色列人逃出埃及，后建犹太国家。
没有好久，我就想要抽烟，就要求寡妇答应我。可是她就是不答应。她说这是一种下流的习惯，又不卫生，要我从此不再抽。世界上有些人就是这么行事。一件事，来龙去脉，一窍不通，可偏偏要说三道四。摩西这人，与她非亲非故，对谁都没有什么用处，老早就死了，她偏要为他操心；可我做一件事，明明有点儿好处，她偏要找岔儿。再说，她自己就吸鼻烟，那当然是做得对的喽，因为是她这么做的嘛。
她的妹妹华珍小姐，一个细挑身材的老小姐，戴一付眼镜，前不久才来和她同住。她拿来一本拼音课本，故意难为我。她逼着我死啃了近一个钟点，寡妇这才叫她歇口气。我实在再也熬不住了。可是又是闷死人的整整一个钟点，我实在烦躁得不行。华珍小姐会说，“别把你的一双脚搁在那上边，哈克贝里。”①“别闹得嘎扎嘎扎响，哈克贝里，——坐坐正。”一会儿又说，“别这么打呵欠，伸懒腰，哈克贝里，——为什么不学得规矩些？”然后她跟我讲到有关那个坏地方②的一切。我就说，我倒是愿意在那里，她就气坏了。我可并非心存恶意，我心里想的只是到个什么地方走动走动，我心里想的不过是换换环境，我决不挑三拣四。她说啊，我刚才说的那些话，全是下流坯说的话。要是她啊，她死也不肯说出那样的话来。她可是要活得规规矩矩，为了好升入那个好地方③。啊，我看不出她要去的那个地方有什么好，所以我已经下定决心，决不干那样的事。不过，我从没有说出口。因为一说出口，就只会惹麻烦，讨不到好。
①乃本书主人公的名字，全名为Huckleberry Finn马克·吐温自称，“芬”这个姓，取自他幼年时的老家密苏里州汉尼拔小镇上一个流浪汉醉鬼Jimmy Finn的姓。但性格上的原型是另一个流浪汉叫Tom Blankenship的，吐温赞他是新区内“唯一一个真正特立独行的人物”（参皮佛《哈克贝里·芬》，伦敦，１９８７，１０、１６页）。
哈克贝里，乃一种野生的浆果，可做啤酒。吐温为本书主人公取这个名，可见赋予主人公粗犷色彩与平民色彩。哈克之所以具有反抗以至叛逆性格、不是偶然的（参汤姆斯·英格《百年纪念评论选》，纽约，１９８４，３２７页）。
一说，马克·吐温为本书主人公取名“哈克·芬’是因为这个名字发音与他自己的姓名发音相近。“哈克”发音与“马克”相近；“芬’发音与“吐温’相近（参《百年纪念评论选》３２７页）。哈克·芬与马克·吐温当然不能等同，但又血肉相连，某种程度上，心灵相通。不少资料表明，乡下孩子出身、自学成才的马克·吐温对本书主人公心灵的塑造倾注了心血，其取名是深思熟虑，含意深长的。
②指地狱。
③指天堂。
她话匣子既然打开了，便不停地说下去，把有关那个好地方的一切，跟我说得没完没了。她说，在那边，一个人整天干的，只是这里走走，那里逛逛，一边弹着琴，一边唱着歌。如此这般，永永远远如此。因此我对这一些不怎么挂在心上，只是我从没有说出口来。
我问她，据她看，汤姆会去那里么，她说，他还差一截子呢。听了这个话，我满心欢喜，因为我要他跟我在一起。
华珍小姐不停地找我的岔子，日子过得又累又寂寞。后来，她们招了些黑奴①来，教他们做祷告，然后一个个地去睡觉。我上楼走进我的房间，手里拿着一支蜡烛，放在桌子上，然后在一张靠窗的椅子上坐下来，存心拣些有劲儿的事想想，可就是做不到。我只觉得寂寞孤单，真是恨不得死去的好②。星星在一闪一闪，林子里树叶在满满作响。我听见一只猫头鹰，在远处，正为死者呜呜地哀鸣；还有一只夜鹰和一条狗正在为一个快死去的人嚎叫。还有那风声正想要在我耳边低声诉说，只是在诉说着什么，我捉摸不透。如此这般，不由得我浑身一阵阵颤抖。我又听见远处林子里鬼魂声响。这个鬼，每逢他要把存在心头的话说出来，可又说不清，于是在坟墓里安不下身来，非得每个夜晚悲悲切切地到处飘飘荡荡。我真是丧魂落魄，十分害怕，但愿身边有个伴。一会儿，一只蜘蛛爬到我肩上，我一抹，抹到了
蜡烛火头上。我没有动一个指头，它就烧焦了。不用别人告诉我，我也明白，这可是个不祥之兆，我认定准要有祸事临头。我便十分害怕，几乎把身上的衣服抖落在地。我立起身来，就地转了三圈，每转一圈，就在胸前划个十字。接着用线把头上一小想头发给扎起来，让妖怪不能近身。不过，我还是不放心。人家把找到的一块马蹄铁给弄丢了，没有能钉在门上，才这么做的③，可从没有听说，弄死了一只蜘蛛，也用这个办法消灾避祸。
①此处第一次写到死，也是本书开宗明义便写到死，结合全书其它部分的描写，表现了哈克对死的敏感性，也使全书在幽默戏谑中透出了黯淡冷峻与悲凉气氛。
原文是nigger，黑人或黑奴，可以无贬义，也可以有贬义，因人因地因上下文而异。
据诺顿版注、用nigger这个词，在蓄奴州里、未必有恶意，而是一般指奴隶。从全书看，一般往往有贬义。
②诺顿版注：马克·吐温经常提到的一个主题是个人的极端孤独，而有关童年哈克在这方面的描写，尤为突出。这从下面描写的树林子里和河上一片荒凉景象，可以想见。此外，哈克的迷信心理，是当时儿童普遍的心理，也是当年拓殖过程中边疆地区普遍的心态。
③当时迷信，找到一块马蹄铁，即说明要交好运；丢了它，就要倒楣。
我坐了下来，浑身直打颤，取出我的烟斗，抽了一口烟，因为屋子里到处象死一般静，所以寡妇不会知道我在抽烟。隔了好一会儿，我听到远处镇上的钟声敲响。噹——噹——噹，——敲了十二下。——然后又一片寂静，——比原来还要静。不久，我听到一根枝桠折断声，在那树丛的黑暗深处——啊，有什么东西在响动。我一动也不动地坐着静听。我立刻听到隐隐约约从那边传来“咪——呜，咪——呜”的声音，多好啊！我就发出“咪—呜，咪—呜”声，尽量越轻越好。接着，我吹熄了蜡烛，爬出窗口，爬到了棚屋顶上。再溜下草地，爬进树丛。千准万确，汤姆正等着我哩。
收听单词发音 |
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thatcher
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| n.茅屋匠 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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cramped
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grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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victuals
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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kin
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swaps
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| 交换( swap的名词复数 )； 交换物，被掉换者 | |
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goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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scrunch
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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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