As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such
pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the
rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there,
thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang
in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself
to them always before, and had as persistently seen
only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister
related many a touching incident in the lives of the
departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous
natures, and the people could easily see, now, how
noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered
with grief that at the time they occurred they had
seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide.
The congregation became more and more moved, as the
pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company
broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus
of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way
to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit.
There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed;
a moment later the church door creaked; the minister
raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief,
and stood transfixed! First one and then another
pair of eyes followed the minister’s, and then
almost with one impulse the congregation rose and
stared while the three dead boys came marching up
the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin
of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear!
They had been hid in the unused gallery listening
to their own funeral sermon!
Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves
upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses
and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood
abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what
to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes.
He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized
him and said:
“Aunt Polly, it ain’t fair. Somebody’s
got to be glad to see Huck.”
“And so they shall. I’m glad to see
him, poor motherless thing!” And the loving
attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one
thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than
he was before.
Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice:
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow—sing!—and
put your hearts in it!”
And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant
burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the
Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about
him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest
moment of his life.
As the “sold” congregation trooped out
they said they would almost be willing to be made
ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that
once more.
Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day—according
to Aunt Polly’s varying moods—than
he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew
which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection
for himself.
CHAPTER XVIII
Copyrights
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.