{"id":"01KG2TSH5SG83EB1FRFEXC581Y","cid":"bafkreibxk2rcyyzpoilz5jdcply6wu2lkzax4uat2dwc6nie3o7y5qde64","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":8824,"extracted_at":"2026-01-28T17:35:34.232Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG2T4RHC4E1XKJ12BJRXE8E8","start_line":8763,"text":"bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot\r\nor stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had\r\nto eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate;\r\nhe had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so\r\nproperly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he\r\nturned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him\r\nhand and foot.\r\n\r\nHe bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up\r\nmissing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in\r\ngreat distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high\r\nand low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning\r\nTom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind\r\nthe abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee.\r\nHuck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and\r\nends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was\r\nunkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made\r\nhim picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him\r\nout, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home.\r\nHuck’s face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He\r\nsaid:\r\n\r\n“Don’t talk about it, Tom. I’ve tried it, and it don’t work; it don’t\r\nwork, Tom. It ain’t for me; I ain’t used to it. The widder’s good to me,\r\nand friendly; but I can’t stand them ways. She makes me get up just\r\nat the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all\r\nto thunder; she won’t let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them\r\nblamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don’t seem to any air\r\ngit through ’em, somehow; and they’re so rotten nice that I can’t\r\nset down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher’s; I hain’t slid on a\r\ncellar-door for—well, it ’pears to be years; I got to go to church\r\nand sweat and sweat—I hate them ornery sermons! I can’t ketch a fly in\r\nthere, I can’t chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by\r\na bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell—everything’s so\r\nawful reg’lar a body can’t stand it.”\r\n\r\n“Well, everybody does that way, Huck.”\r\n\r\n“Tom, it don’t make no difference. I ain’t everybody, and I can’t\r\n_stand_ it. It’s awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy—I don’t\r\ntake no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing;\r\nI got to ask to go in a-swimming—dern’d if I hain’t got to ask to do\r\neverything. Well, I’d got to talk so nice it wasn’t no comfort—I’d got\r\nto go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste\r\nin my mouth, or I’d a died, Tom. The widder wouldn’t let me smoke;\r\nshe wouldn’t let me yell, she wouldn’t let me gape, nor stretch, nor\r\nscratch, before folks—” [Then with a spasm of special irritation and\r\ninjury]—“And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a\r\nwoman! I _had_ to shove, Tom—I just had to. And besides, that school’s\r\ngoing to open, and I’d a had to go to it—well, I wouldn’t stand _that_,\r\nTom. Looky-here, Tom, being rich ain’t what it’s cracked up to be. It’s\r\njust worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead\r\nall the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar’l suits me, and\r\nI ain’t ever going to shake ’em any more. Tom, I wouldn’t ever got into\r\nall this trouble if it hadn’t ’a’ been for that money; now you just take\r\nmy sheer of it along with your’n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes—not\r\nmany times, becuz I don’t give a dern for a thing ’thout it’s tollable\r\nhard to git—and you go and beg off for me with the widder.”\r\n\r\n“Oh, Huck, you know I can’t do that. ’Tain’t fair; and besides if you’ll\r\ntry this thing just a while longer you’ll come to like it.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG2TRBES8VP7RFNZ9Y07120G","peer_label":"CHAPTER XXXV","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG2T4RHC4E1XKJ12BJRXE8E8","peer_label":"tom_sawyer.txt","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG2T49K0H5GDRB0G4YDTPG8H","peer_label":"Test Collection","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG2TSHAS7S2GYWFBF23EGNXV","peer_label":"Chunk 1","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG2TSHCA2S1E1PX2DMTQRJS9","peer_label":"Chunk 3","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-28T17:35:34.707Z","ts":"2026-01-28T17:35:35.859Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}