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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer
Capítulo 2, Página 1
Saturday
morning
was
come,
and
all
the
summer
world
was
bright
and
fresh,
and
brimming
with
life.
There
was
a
song
in
every
heart;
and
if
the
heart
was
young
the
music
issued
at
the
lips.
There
was
cheer
in
every
face
and
a
spring
in
every
step.
The
locust-trees
were
in
bloom
and
the
fragrance
of
the
blossoms
filled
the
air.
Cardiff
Hill,
beyond
the
village
and
above
it,
was
green
with
vegetation
and
it
lay
just
far
enough
away
to
seem
a
Delectable
Land,
dreamy,
reposeful,
and
inviting.
Tom
appeared
on
the
sidewalk
with
a
bucket
of
whitewash
and
a
long-handled
brush.
He
surveyed
the
fence,
and
all
gladness
left
him
and
a
deep
melancholy
settled
down
upon
his
spirit.
Thirty
yards
of
board
fence
nine
feet
high.
Life
to
him
seemed
hollow,
and
existence
but
a
burden.
Sighing,
he
dipped
his
brush
and
passed
it
along
the
topmost
plank;
repeated
the
operation;
did
it
again;
compared
the
insignificant
whitewashed
streak
with
the
far-reaching
continent
of
unwhitewashed
fence,
and
sat
down
on
a
tree-box
discouraged.
Jim
came
skipping
out
at
the
gate
with
a
tin
pail,
and
singing
Buffalo
Gals.
Bringing
water
from
the
town
pump
had
always
been
hateful
work
in
Tom’s
eyes,
before,
but
now
it
did
not
strike
him
so.
He
remembered
that
there
was
company
at
the
pump.
White,
mulatto,
and
negro
boys
and
girls
were
always
there
waiting
their
turns,
resting,
trading
playthings,
quarrelling,
fighting,
skylarking.
And
he
remembered
that
although
the
pump
was
only
a
hundred
and
fifty
yards
off,
Jim
never
got
back
with
a
bucket
of
water
under
an
hour—and
even
then
somebody
generally
had
to
go
after
him.
Tom
said:
“Say,
Jim,
I’ll
fetch
the
water
if
you’ll
whitewash
some.”
Jim
shook
his
head
and
said:
“Can’t,
Mars
Tom.
Ole
missis,
she
tole
me
I
got
to
go
an’
git
dis
water
an’
not
stop
foolin’
roun’
wid
anybody.
She
say
she
spec’
Mars
Tom
gwine
to
ax
me
to
whitewash,
an’
so
she
tole
me
go
’long
an’
’tend
to
my
own
business—she
’lowed
she’d
’tend
to
de
whitewashin’.”
“Oh,
never
you
mind
what
she
said,
Jim.
That’s
the
way
she
always
talks.
Gimme
the
bucket—I
won’t
be
gone
only
a
a
minute.
She
won’t
ever
know.”
“Oh,
I
dasn’t,
Mars
Tom.
Ole
missis
she’d
take
an’
tar
de
head
off’n
me.
’Deed
she
would.”
“She!
She
never
licks
anybody—whacks
’em
over
the
head
with
her
thimble—and
who
cares
for
that,
I’d
like
to
know.
She
talks
awful,
but
talk
don’t
hurt—anyways
it
don’t
if
she
don’t
cry.
Jim,
I’ll
give
you
a
marvel.
I’ll
give
you
a
white
alley!”
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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer — C1 Inglés | Cuentana