keep you from deceiving yourself.”
But I couldn’t see no argument about that, and
neither could Jim. Jim shook his head, and says:
“Why, Mars Tom, if you knowed what chuckle-
heads dem painters is, you’d wait a long time before
you’d fetch one er DEM in to back up a fac’. I’s
gwine to tell you, den you kin see for you’self. I see
one of ’em a-paintin’ away, one day, down in ole
Hank Wilson’s back lot, en I went down to see, en he
was paintin’ dat old brindle cow wid de near horn
gone — you knows de one I means. En I ast him
what he’s paintin’ her for, en he say when he git her
painted, de picture’s wuth a hundred dollars. Mars
Tom, he could a got de cow fer fifteen, en I tole him
so. Well, sah, if you’ll b’lieve me, he jes’ shuck his
head, dat painter did, en went on a-dobbin’. Bless
you, Mars Tom, DEY don’t know nothin’.”
Tom lost his temper. I notice a person ‘most always
does that’s got laid out in an argument. He told us to
shut up, and maybe we’d feel better. Then he see a
town clock away off down yonder, and he took up the
glass and looked at it, and then looked at his silver
turnip, and then at the clock, and then at the turnip
again, and says:
“That’s funny! That clock’s near about an hour
fast.”
So he put up his turnip. Then he see another clock,
and took a look, and it was an hour fast too. That
puzzled him.
“That’s a mighty curious thing,” he says. “I
don’t understand it.”
Then he took the glass and hunted up another clock,
and sure enough it was an hour fast too. Then his
eyes began to spread and his breath to come out kinder
gaspy like, and he says:
“Ger-reat Scott, it’s the LONGITUDE!”
I says, considerably scared:
“Well, what’s been and gone and happened now?”
“Why, the thing that’s happened is that this old
bladder has slid over Illinois and Indiana and Ohio like
nothing, and this is the east end of Pennsylvania or
New York, or somewheres around there.”
“Tom Sawyer, you don’t mean it!”
“Yes, I do, and it’s dead sure. We’ve covered
about fifteen degrees of longitude since we left St.
Louis yesterday afternoon, and them clocks are right.
We’ve come close on to eight hundred miles.”
I didn’t believe it, but it made the cold streaks
trickle down my back just the same. In my experi-
ence I knowed it wouldn’t take much short of two
weeks to do it down the Mississippi on a raft.
Jim was working his mind and studying. Pretty
soon he says:
“Mars Tom, did you say dem clocks uz right?”
“Yes, they’re right.”
“Ain’t yo’ watch right, too?”
“She’s right for St. Louis, but she’s an hour wrong
for here.”
“Mars Tom, is you tryin’ to let on dat de time ain’t
de SAME everywheres?”
“No, it ain’t the same everywheres, by a long
shot.”
Jim looked distressed, and says:
“It grieves me to hear you talk like dat, Mars Tom;
I’s right down ashamed to hear you talk like dat, arter
de way you’s been raised. Yassir, it’d break yo’ Aunt
Polly’s heart to hear you.”
Tom was astonished. He looked Jim over wonder-
ing, and didn’t say nothing, and Jim went on:
“Mars Tom, who put de people out yonder in St.
Louis? De Lord done it. Who put de people here
whar we is? De Lord done it. Ain’ dey bofe his
children? ‘Cose dey is. WELL, den! is he gwine to
SCRIMINATE ‘twixt ’em?”
“Scriminate! I never heard such ignorance. There
ain’t no discriminating about it. When he makes you
and some more of his children black, and makes the
rest of us white, what do you call that?”
Jim see the p’int. He was stuck. He couldn’t
answer. Tom says:
“He does discriminate, you see, when he wants to;
but this case HERE ain’t no discrimination of his, it’s
man’s. The Lord made the day, and he made the
night; but he didn’t invent the hours, and he didn’t