Mark Twain

THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)

the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service

The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep.

beyond the majestic waste of water

There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early.

Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children

perplexed

He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye,

"Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!"

So he forestalled what might be the next move: