Приключения Тома Сойера

УДК 
372.8
ББК 
81.2 Англ-93
 
Т 26

ISBN 978-5-9925-0537-5

Твен М.
Т 26 
Приключения Тома Сойера: Книга для чтения на 
английском языке. — СПб.: КАРО, 2010. — 320 с. — 
(Серия “Classical literature”).

ISBN 978-5-9925-0537-5.

Предлагаем вниманию читателей знаменитый роман Марка 
Твена об увлекательных приключениях американского мальчика Тома Сойера и его друзей.
В книге представлен неадаптированный текст романа, снабженный подробным комментарием.

УДК 372.8
ББК 81.2 Англ-93

© КАРО, 2010

PREFACE

MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those 
of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn 
from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual — he is 
a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I 
knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture.
Th e odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent 
among children and slaves in the West at the period of this
story — that is to say, thirty or forty years ago.
Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men 
and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try 
to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, 
and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer 
enterprises they sometimes engaged in.

THE AUTHOR 
HARTFORD, 1876

Chapter I

TOM PLAYS, FIGHTS, AND HIDES

“TOM!”
No answer.
“TOM!”
No answer.
“What’s gone with that boy, I wonder? You 
TOM!”
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and
looked over them about the room; then she put them 
up and looked out under them. She seldom or never 
looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; 
they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and 
were built for “style,” not service — she could have 
seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked 
perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fi ercely, but 
still loud enough for the furniture to hear:
“Well, I lay1 if I get hold of you I’ll — ”
She did not fi nish, for by this time she was bending 
down and punching under the bed with the broom, 

1 I lay — (разг.) держу пари, клянусь

CHAPTER I

5

and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches 
with. She resurrected nothing but the cat.
“I never did see the beat of1 that boy!”
She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and “jimpson”2 weeds 
that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lift ed up 
her voice at an angle calculated for distance, and
shouted:
“Y-o-u-u TOM!”
Th ere was a slight noise behind her and she turned 
just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his 
roundabout3 and arrest his fl ight.
“Th ere! I might ‘a᾿ thought of that closet. What you 
been doing in there?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your 
mouth. What IS that truck?”
“I don’t know, aunt.”
“Well, I know. It’s jam — that’s what it is. Forty
times I’ve said if you didn’t let that jam alone I’d skin 
you. Hand me that switch.”
Th e switch hovered in the air — the peril was desperate —
“My! Look behind you, aunt!”
Th e old lady whirled round, and snatched her 
skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant,

1 the beat of — (диал.) такой, подобный; the beat of употребляется с глаголами to see и to hear
2 “jimpson” = Jimson
3 slack of ... roundabout — край ... куртки

THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER

6

scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared 
over it.
His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then 
broke into a gentle laugh.
“Hang the boy, can’t I never learn anything? Ain’t he 
played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest 
fools there is. Can’t learn an old dog new tricks, as the 
saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, 
two days, and how is a body to know what’s coming? He 
’pears to know just how long he can torment me before 
I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to 
put me off  for a minute or make me laugh, it’s all down1 
again and I can’t hit him a lick. I ain’t doing my duty by 
that boy, and that’s the Lord’s truth, goodness knows. 
Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book2 says. 
I’m a-laying up sin and suff ering for us both, I know. He’s 
full of the Old Scratch3, but laws-a-me4! he’s my own 
dead sister’s boy, poor thing, and I ain’t got the heart to 
lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my 
conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my 
old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of 
woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture 
says, and I reckon it’s so. He’ll play hookey this evening, 
and (Southwestern for “aft ernoon”) I’ll just be obleeged 
to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It’s mighty 
hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is 

1 it’s all down — (разг.) не могу я на него сердиться
2 the Good Book — Библия
3 Old Scratch — черт
4 laws-a-me — (разг.) прости господи

CHAPTER I

7

having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates 
anything else, and I’ve GOT to do some of my duty by 
him, or I’ll be the ruination of the child.”
Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. 
He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the 
small colored boy, saw next-day’s wood and split the 
kindlings before supper — at least he was there in time 
to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths 
of the work. Tom’s younger brother (or rather halfbrother) Sid, was already through with his part of the 
work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and 
had no adventurous, troublesome ways.
While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing
sugar as opportunity off ered, Aunt Polly asked him 
questions that were full of guile, and very deep — for 
she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. 
Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet 
vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for 
dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to 
contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels 
of low cunning. Said she:
“Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn’t it?”
“Yes’m1.”
“Powerful warm, weren’t it?”
“Yes’m.”
“Didn’t you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?”
A bit of a scare shot through Tom — a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly’s face, 
but it told him nothing. So he said:

1 m — сокр. от madam, ma᾿m (обращение к женщине)

THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER

8

“No’m — well, not very much.”
Th e old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom’s 
shirt, and said:
“But you ain’t too warm now, though.” And it fl attered her to refl ect that she had discovered that the 
shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was 
what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom 
knew where the wind lay1, now. So he forestalled what 
might be the next move:
“Some of us pumped on our heads — mine’s damp 
yet. See?”
Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked 
that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. 
Th en she had a new inspiration:
“Tom, you didn’t have to undo your shirt-collar 
where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? 
Unbutton your jacket!”
Th e trouble vanished out of Tom’s face. He opened 
his jacket. His shirt-collar was securely sewed.
“Bother! Well, go ’long with you. I’d made sure 
you’d played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you’re a kind of a singed cat2, as 
the saying is — better’n you look. THIS time.”
She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and 
half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct 
for once.

1 where the wind lay — (разг.) куда ветер дует
2 a kind of singed cat (сленг) кажешься хуже, чем ты есть 
на самом деле

CHAPTER I

9

But Sidney said:
“Well, now, if I didn’t think you sewed his collar 
with white thread, but it’s black.”
“Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!”
But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at 
the door he said:
“Siddy, I’ll lick you for that.1”
In a safe place Tom examined two large needles 
which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had 
thread bound about them — one needle carried white
thread and the other black. He said:
“She’d never noticed if it hadn’t been for Sid. 
Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and 
sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy2 
she’d stick to one or t’other — I can’t keep the run of3 
’em. But I bet you I’ll lam Sid for that. I’ll learn him!”
He was not the Model Boy of the village4. He knew 
the model boy very well though — and loathed him.
Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten 
all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit 
less heavy and bitter to him than a man’s are to a man, 
but because a new and powerful interest bore them 
down and drove them out of his mind for the time — 
just as men’s misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. Th is new interest was a valued 

1 I᾿ll lick you far that — (сленг) ты у меня за это получишь
2 I wish to geeminy — (сленг) как бы я хотел
3 I can᾿t keep the run of — мне не уследить
4 village — (зд.) маленький городок

THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER

10

novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from 
a Negro, and he was suff ering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar birdlike turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the 
roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the 
music — the reader probably remembers how to do it, 
if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon 
gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street 
with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has 
discovered a new planet — no doubt, as far as strong, 
deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage 
was with the boy, not the astronomer.
Th e summer evenings were long. It was not dark, 
yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger 
was before him — a boy a shade larger than himself. 
A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive 
curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. 
Th is boy was well dressed, too — well dressed on a 
week-day. Th is was simply astounding. His cap was a 
dainty thing, his closebuttoned blue cloth roundabout 
was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had 
shoes on — and it was only Friday. He even wore a 
necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citifi ed1 air 
about him that ate into Tom’s vitals. Th e more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his 
nose at his fi nery and the shabbier and shabbier his 

1 citifi ed — (зд.) городской