Tom Sawyer - Chapter 2
by "Mark Twain"
Saturday morning had come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming fullt with life. There was a song in every heart. There was cheer in every face and a spring skutt in every step. The trees were in bloom and the fragrance (doft, trevlig lukt) of the blossoms blommor filled the air.
Tom was on the sidewalk with a bucket hink of whitewash kalkfärg and a long-handled brush. He surveyed (looked at) the fence, and all gladness left him. A deep melancholy vemod settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high! Life to him seemed empty. Sighing (med en djup suck), he dipped doppade his brush borsten and passed it along the top plank bråda. He repeated the operation, did it again, compared the insignificant obetydligt, lille whitewashed streak vittade stycket with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence resten av det ändlösa planket. So, he sat down on a wooden box, discouraged dystert.
Jim came skipping out skuttande at the gate grind with a tin pail hink. 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 sällskap at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, fighting, playing. 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 get him.
Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch hämtar the water if you'll whitewash some."
Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mister Tom. Ole missis, she told me I got to go and git dis water and not stop fooling round with anybody. She said she expected Tom will ask me to whitewash, and so she told me go along and tend to my own business gör mina egna sysslor.”
"Oh, never you mind (bry dig inte om) what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket – I only be gone a minute. SHE won't ever know."
"Oh, I don’t dare, Master Tom. Ole missis, she'd take my head off. Indeed she would (sannerligen skulle hon)."
"SHE! She never licks anybody. She only whacks 'em over the head with her thimble (hon slår med ett liten metall bägare vilken vid sömnad träs på långfingret för att skydda fingertoppen från stick; fingerborg) and who cares about that (vem bry sig om det), 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 marble glaskula. I'll give you a big one!"
Jim was only human — this attraction lockelse was too much for him. He put down his pail and took the marble. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye.
But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows sorg multiplied. Soon the free boys would come along on all sorts of delicious expeditions (spännande utflyttsplaner för dagen), and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work. The very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth (världsliga skatter), and examined it (studerade dem): bits of toys, marbles, and trash skräp: enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his things to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys.
At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him (han fick en plötslig ingivelse)! Nothing less than (inget mindre än) a great, magnificent inspiration.
He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work arbetade lungt. Ben Rogers walked by — the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule hån he had been dreading han var rädd för. Ben hopped, skipped and jumped — proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations förväntningar high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was like a steamboat han lekte att han var en ångfärja. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined. As he came near, he slowed down and then stopped in the middle of the street.
Tom went on whitewashing. He paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared (looked) a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a tree (i en svår sits), ain't you!"
No answer. Tom surveyed (looked) with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben walked up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work.
Ben said: "Hello, old chap (gamle gosse), you got to work, hey?"
Tom wheeled suddenly (vände sig om plötsligt) and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I didn’t notice (jag såg inte dig)."
"Say - I'm going swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd rather WORK — wouldn't you? (Du vill helst jobba eller?!? )
Tom looked at the boy, and said: "What do you call work?"
"Why, ain't THAT work (vad är det annars)?"
Saturday morning had come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming fullt with life. There was a song in every heart. There was cheer in every face and a spring skutt in every step. The trees were in bloom and the fragrance (doft, trevlig lukt) of the blossoms blommor filled the air.
Tom was on the sidewalk with a bucket hink of whitewash kalkfärg and a long-handled brush. He surveyed (looked at) the fence, and all gladness left him. A deep melancholy vemod settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high! Life to him seemed empty. Sighing (med en djup suck), he dipped doppade his brush borsten and passed it along the top plank bråda. He repeated the operation, did it again, compared the insignificant obetydligt, lille whitewashed streak vittade stycket with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence resten av det ändlösa planket. So, he sat down on a wooden box, discouraged dystert.
Jim came skipping out skuttande at the gate grind with a tin pail hink. 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 sällskap at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, fighting, playing. 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 get him.
Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch hämtar the water if you'll whitewash some."
Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mister Tom. Ole missis, she told me I got to go and git dis water and not stop fooling round with anybody. She said she expected Tom will ask me to whitewash, and so she told me go along and tend to my own business gör mina egna sysslor.”
"Oh, never you mind (bry dig inte om) what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket – I only be gone a minute. SHE won't ever know."
"Oh, I don’t dare, Master Tom. Ole missis, she'd take my head off. Indeed she would (sannerligen skulle hon)."
"SHE! She never licks anybody. She only whacks 'em over the head with her thimble (hon slår med ett liten metall bägare vilken vid sömnad träs på långfingret för att skydda fingertoppen från stick; fingerborg) and who cares about that (vem bry sig om det), 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 marble glaskula. I'll give you a big one!"
Jim was only human — this attraction lockelse was too much for him. He put down his pail and took the marble. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye.
But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows sorg multiplied. Soon the free boys would come along on all sorts of delicious expeditions (spännande utflyttsplaner för dagen), and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work. The very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth (världsliga skatter), and examined it (studerade dem): bits of toys, marbles, and trash skräp: enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his things to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys.
At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him (han fick en plötslig ingivelse)! Nothing less than (inget mindre än) a great, magnificent inspiration.
He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work arbetade lungt. Ben Rogers walked by — the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule hån he had been dreading han var rädd för. Ben hopped, skipped and jumped — proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations förväntningar high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was like a steamboat han lekte att han var en ångfärja. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined. As he came near, he slowed down and then stopped in the middle of the street.
Tom went on whitewashing. He paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared (looked) a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a tree (i en svår sits), ain't you!"
No answer. Tom surveyed (looked) with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben walked up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work.
Ben said: "Hello, old chap (gamle gosse), you got to work, hey?"
Tom wheeled suddenly (vände sig om plötsligt) and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I didn’t notice (jag såg inte dig)."
"Say - I'm going swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd rather WORK — wouldn't you? (Du vill helst jobba eller?!? )
Tom looked at the boy, and said: "What do you call work?"
"Why, ain't THAT work (vad är det annars)?"
Tom resumed fortsätte his whitewashing, and answered carelessly (sa oberört): "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits det passar Tom Sawyer."
"Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move.
"Like it? Well, I don't see why I shouldn’t like it (varför inte). Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?"
That put the thing in a new light (det ställde saken i ett annat ljus). Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth (svepte elegant med borsten). He stepped back to note the effect (tog ett steg tillbaka för att studera effekten). He added a touch here and there. Criticised the effect again.
Ben watched every move and got more and more interested. Finally he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little."
Tom considered överväggde, was about to consent (var på vippen att säga ja); but he altered his mind (ändrarde sig): "No — no — I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular (väldigt noga) about this fence. It's right here on the street, you know. But if it were the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence. It's got to be done very careful. I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done."
"No, is that so? Oh come, now. Let me just try. Only just a little. I'd let YOU, if you were me, Tom."
"Ben, I'd like to, honest uppriktligt; but Aunt Polly — well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. If you were to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it (om du skulle ge dig på det här planket och det blev fel..."
"Oh, I'll be careful. Now let me try. Say, I'll give you the core of my apple."
"Well, here…. No, Ben, no. I'm afraid…."
"I'll give you ALL of it!"
Tom gave up the brush with reluctance motvilja in his face, but alacrity iver in his heart. And while the late steamboat (who really was Ben Rogers) worked and sweated in the sun, the “retired artist” (pensionerade bildkonstnär) (who really was Tom) sat on a barrel fat in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned to trick other boys.
Boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer håna, but stayed to whitewash. By the time Ben was tired out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite drake in good repair. Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with — and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was rolling in wealth (han var rik).
He had besides those things, twelve marbles, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk (en bit krita), a tin soldier leksakssoldat av tenn, a couple of tadpoles grodyngel, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob dörrhandtag, a dog-collar — but no dog, the handle of a knife, and four pieces of orange-peel.
He had had a nice, good, idle lat time all the while. Plenty of company sällskap. And the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village (satt alla pojkar i byn i bankrutt).
Tom had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it — namely, that to make a man or a boy want a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to get. Work is what you HAVE to do, and Play is what you don’t have to do. And this would help him to understand why working on a treadmill löpband is work, while going bowling or climbing mountains is only for fun. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer. But if they were offered wages lön for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign säger upp sig.
Questions
