The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature)

by Mark Twain

  "No," said the juggler; "no one can do that."

  "You are only an apprentice; you don't know your trade. Give me seed-I will show you."

  He took the seed, and said-

  "What shall I raise from it?"

  "It is a cherry seed; of course you will raise a cherry."

  "Oh, no-that is a trifle; any novice can do it. Shall I raise an orange tree from it?"

  "Oh, yes!" and the juggler laughed.

  "And shall I make it bear other fruits as well as oranges?"

  "If God wills!" and they all laughed.

  Satan put the seed on the ground, put a handful of dust on it, and said-

  "Rise!"

  A tiny stem shot up and began to grow; and grew so fast that in five minutes it was a great tree and we were sitting in the shade of it. There was a murmur of wonder, then all looked up and saw a strange and pretty sight; for the branches were heavy with fruits of many kinds and colors-oranges, grapes, bananas, peaches, cherries, apricots and so on. Baskets were brought, and the unlad ing of the tree began; and the people crowded around Satan and kissed his hand, and praised him, calling him the prince of jugglers. The news went about the town, and everybody came running to see the wonder-and they remembered to bring baskets, too. But the tree was equal to the occasion; it put out new fruits as fast as any were removed; baskets were filled by the score and by the hundred, but always the supply remained undiminished. At last a foreigner in white linen and sun-helmet arrived, and exclaimed angrily-

  "Away from here! Clear out, you dogs; the tree is on my lands, and is my property."

  The natives put down their baskets and made humble obeisance. Satan made humble obeisance, too, with his fingers to his forehead, in the native way, and said-

  "Please let them have their pleasure for an hour, sir-only that, and no longer. Afterward you may forbid them; and you will still have more fruit than you and the State together can consume in a year."

  This made the foreigner very angry, and he cried out-

  "Who are you, you vagabond, to tell your betters what they may do and what they mayn't!" and he struck Satan with his cane and followed this error with a kick.

  The fruits rotted on the branches, and the leaves withered and fell.

  The foreigner gazed at the bare limbs with the look of one who is surprised, and not gratified. Satan said-

  "Take good care of the tree, for its health and yours are bound up together. It will never bear again, but if you tend it well it will live long. Water its roots once in each hour every night-and do it yourself, it must not be done by proxy, and to do it in daylight will not answer. If you fail only once in any night, the tree will die, and you likewise. Do not go home to your own country any more-you would not reach there; make no business or pleasure engagements which require you to go outside your gate at night-you cannot afford the risk; do not rent or sell this place-it would be injudicious.

  The foreigner was proud, and wouldn't beg, but I thought he looked as if he would like to. While he stood gazing at Satan, we vanished away and landed in Ceylon.

  I was sorry for that man; sorry Satan hadn't been his customary self and killed him. It would have been a mercy. Satan overheard the thought, and said-

  "I would have done it, but for his wife, who has not offended me. She is coming to him presently from their native land, Portugal. She is well, but has not long to live, and has been yearning to see him and persuade him to go back with her next year. She will die without knowing he can't leave that place."

  "He won't tell her?"

  "He? He will not trust that secret with any one; he will reflect that it could be revealed in sleep, in the hearing of some Portuguese guest's servant, some time or other."

  "Did none of those natives understand what you said to him?"

  "None of them understood, but he will always be afraid that some of them did. That fear will be a torture to him; for he has been a harsh master to them. In his dreams he will imagine them chopping his tree down. That will make his days uncomfortable-I have already arranged for his nights."

  It grieved me, though not sharply, to see him take such a malicious satisfaction in his plans for this foreigner.

  "Does he believe what you told him, Satan?"

  "He thought he didn't, but our vanishing helped. The tree, where there had been no tree before-that helped. The insane and uncanny variety of fruits-the sudden withering-all these things are helps. Let him think as he may, reason as he may, one thing is certain-he will water the tree. But between this and night he will begin his changed career with a very natural precaution-for him."

  "What is that?"

  "He will fetch a priest to cast out the tree's devil. You are such a humorous race-and don't suspect it."

  "Will he tell the priest?"

  "No. He will say a juggler from Bombay created it, and that he wants the juggler's devil driven out of it, so that it will thrive and be fruitful again. The priest's incantations will fail; then the Portuguese will give up that scheme and get his watering-pot ready."

  "But the priest will burn the tree. I know it; he will not allow it to remain."

  "Yes, and anywhere in Europe he would burn the man, too. But in India the people are civilized, and these things will not happen. The man will drive the priest away and take care of the tree."

  I reflected a little, then said-

  "Satan, you have given him a hard life, I think."

  "Comparatively. It must not be mistaken for a holiday."

  "What is the man doing now?"

  "Sorrowing. Sorrowing, and getting ready for the night. He will sit with his clothes on and an alarm-clock at his elbow. Last night he slept in a bed for the last time in this life-at night, I mean."

  "Satan, it is horrible!"

  "Comparatively. To-morrow he will lay in fifteen alarm-clocks; he will never trust his life to one, nor to half a dozen."

  "What will he tell his wife when she comes?"

  "Several quite excusable lies."

  "Won't the alarm clocks disturb her, when they all go off at once?"

  "Along at first, yes. They will make her jump out of bed. Eight times the first night. She will go and expostulate with her husband, and complain that her sleep is too periodical. lle will explain-with lies-saying he is engaged in important scientific experiments; and he will plead with her to be patient with them and learn to love them, for his sake. And he will pet her and persuade her. But this cannot last for long."

  "No, I believe it."

  "The third day she will go and destroy the clocks while he is taking his sleep. He will be frightened nearly to death when he wakes and learns of his disaster; and she will be so moved by his distress that she will go and buy a new outfit of clocks herself, and will let him have his way after that."

  "But she will pine away with loss of sleep, and die, Satan."

  "No, she will accommodate her life to the new circumstances. She will sleep in the daytime, and sit up with him, nights. She will thus have his society and be quite content. She will never quite get the hang of his experiments, but he will make her believe that in time they will restore the tree, and make it the marvel and wonder it was at first, and people will cross the ocean to see it. Then she will be interested, and will offer to do the watering herself, but will be excused."

  "Poor thing!"

  "No, not she. She will be happy, and proud of her scientific husband, and hopefully expectant of his success until her latest day -and that is not far off."

  "God keep her in ignorance!"

  "Her husband will assist."

  Chapter 11

  It'V4 Y APPETITE was not satisfied, it was only sharpened; I wanted to see Satan show off some more. It was a delight to me to see him astonish people; it was a private pride to me, too, and pleased my vanity, for I was envied, as being friend and comrade to so great a magician. Satan was willing to content my desire, and said there was an opportunity now, up in the hills not twenty miles away, in the palace of a nati
ve of wealth and high degree. We were there in a moment, Satan properly clothed for the occasion in silks of rich color loosely draped about his slender black figure, and on his head a handsome turban with gold stripes winding in and out among its folds. He had made his age about twentyfive. On a dais at the end of a noble hall sat the host, a blaze of gaudy silks and flashing jewels, and in front of him on oriental rugs sat forty or fifty natives in fine apparel. A magician of great renown was about to perform.

  He held up a small ivory ball, so that all might see it, then gave it to a young man and told him to carry it away and hide it. The young man departed, and returned after a little time. The magician now tied a bandage over his eyes, and said he would go and find the ball. He felt his way along, with a cane, and many witnesses followed, to see if he succeeded. f wandered here and there and yonder about the great garden, not hesitating but moving with confidence, and at last he bent quickly down and apparently took the ball out from under a covering of loose moss and leaves at the root of a tree, and held it up. He and the witnesses came back and reported to the Rajah, who marveled greatly, and ordered a present of twenty gold mohurs to be given to the miracle-worker. Then Satan made a deep obeisance toward the chair of state, and said-

  "I am also a magician, your Highness, and by my science I am able to perceive that this is not a wonderful thing. The young man who professed to hide the ball is the magician's confederate. lie hid no ball; the magician found no ball. The confederate's ball is in his girdle, the magician's ball lies in his hand. With a confederate's help, this trick is nothing."

  The magician loudly protested, and said he was not acquainted with the young man who had assisted him, and did not know he had a ball; and in any case the young man's ball had not been used. Satan asked-

  "Could you tell your ball from the other if they were together?"

  "Certainly."

  "If your I will deign to give the command-"

  His Highness ordered that the two balls be brought to him. He rolled them about in his hands, then held them exposed in his palm. The magician made choice promptly, saying-

  "This is mine; I recognise it easily. To others they may seem alike -to me they are not so."

  The Rajah wondered at his sharpness of eye, and said it was amazing. Ile supposed the incident closed, and was going to order some more gold mohurs, but Satan interrupted respectfully and asked the magician-

  "Is your ball hollow, and is there something concealed in it?"

  "Certainly not."

  "Then that is not his ball, your Highness. Will your Highness be pleased to take it and unscrew its parts?"

  "What is in it?"

  "A diamond, your Highness."

  Chapter 1

  IT WAS not much short of fifty years ago-and a frosty morning. Up the naked long slant of Schoolhouse Hill the boys and girls of Petersburg village were struggling from various directions against the fierce wind, and making slow and difficult progress. The wind was not the only hindrance, nor the worst; the slope was steel-clad in frozen snow, and the foothold offered was far from trustworthy. Every now and then a boy who had almost gained the schoolhouse stepped out with too much confidence, thinking himself safe, lost his footing, struck upon his back and went skimming down the hill behind his freed sled, the straggling schoolmates scrambling out of 00 his way and applauding as he sailed by; and in a few seconds he was at the bottom with all his work to do over again. But this was fun; fun for the boy, fun for the witnesses, fun all around; for boys and girls are ignorant and do not know trouble when they see it.

  Sid Sawyer, the good boy, the model boy, the cautious boy, did not lose his footing. He brought no sled, he chose his steps with care, and he arrived in safety. Tom Sawyer brought his sled and he, also, arrived without adventure, for Huck Finn was along to help, although he was not a member of the school in these days; he merely came in order to be with Tom until school "took in." Henry Bascom arrived safely, too-Henry Bascom the new boy of last year, whose papa was a "nigger" trader and rich; a mean boy, he was, and proud of his clothes, and he had a play-slaughterhouse at home, with all the equipment, in little, of a regular slaughterhouse, and in it he slaughtered puppies and kittens exactly as beeves were done to death down at the "Point;" and he was this year's schoolbully, and was dreaded and flattered by the timid and the weak and disliked by everybody. He arrived safely because his slave-boy Jake helped him up the hill and drew his sled for him; and it wasn't a home-made sled but a "store" sled, and was painted, and had iron-tyred runners, and came from St. Louis, and was the only store-sled in the village.

  All the twentyfive or thirty boys and girls arrived at last, red and panting, and still cold, notwithstanding their yarn comforters and mufflers and mittens; and the girls flocked into the little schoolhouse and the boys packed themselves together in the shelter of its Ice.

  It was noticed now that a new boy was present, and this was a matter of extraordinary interest, for a new boy in the village was a rarer sight than a new comet in the sky. He was apparently about fifteen; his clothes were neat and tasty above the common, he had a good and winning face, and he was surpassingly handsome-handsome beyond imagination! His eyes were deep and rich and beautiful, and there was a modesty and dignity and grace and graciousness and charm about him which some of the boys, with a pleased surprise, recognised at once as familiar-they had encountered it in books about fairytale princes and that sort. They stared at him with a trying backwoods frankness, but he was tranquil and did not seem troubled by it. After looking him over, Henry Bascom pushed forward in front of the others and began in an insolent tone to question him:

  "Who are you? What's your name?"

  The boy slowly shook his head, as if meaning by that that he did not understand.

  "Do you hear? Answer up!"

  Another slow shake.

  "Answer up, I tell you, or I'll make you!"

  Tom Sawyer said-

  "That's no way, Henry Bascom-it's against the rules. If you want your fuss, and can't wait till recess, which is regular, go at it right and fair; put a chip on your shoulder and dare him to knock it off."

  "All right; he's got to fight, and fight now, whether he answers or not; and I'm not particular about how it's got at." He put a flake of ice on his shoulder and said, "There-knock it off if you dare!"

  The boy looked inquiringly from face to face, and Tom stepped up and answered by signs. He touched the boy's right hand, then flipped off the ice with his own, put it back in its place, and indicated that that was what the boy must do. The lad smiled, put out his hand, and touched the ice with his finger. Bascom launched a blow at his face which seemed to miss; the energy of it made Bascom slip on the ice, and he departed on his back for the bottom of the hill, with cordial laughter and mock applause from the boys to cheer his way.

  The bell began to ring, and the little crowd swarmed into the schoolhouse and hurried to their places. The stranger found a seat apart, and was at once a target for the wondering eyes and eager whisperings of the girls. School now "began." Archibald Ferguson, the old Scotch schoolmaster, rapped upon his desk with his ruler, rose upon his dais and stood, with his hands together, and said "Let us pray." After the prayer there was a hymn, then the buzz of study began, and the multiplication class was called up. It recited, up to "twelve times twelve;" then the arithmetic class followed and exposed its slates to much censure and little commendation; next came the grammar class of parsing parrots, who knew everything about grammar except how to utilize its rules in common speech.

  "Spelling class!" The schoolmaster's wandering eye now fell upon the new boy, and he countermanded that order. "Hm-a stranger? Who is it? What is your name, my boy?"

  The lad rose and bowed, and said-

  "Pardon, monsieur-je ne comprends pas."

  Ferguson looked astonished and pleased, and said, in French-

  "Ah, French-how pleasant! It is the first time I have heard that tongue in many years. I am the only person in this village who speaks
it. You are very welcome; I shall be glad to renew my practice. You speak no English?"

  "Not a word, sir."

  "You must try to learn it."

  "Gladly, sir."

  "It is your purpose to attend my school regularly?"

  "If I may have the privilege, sir."

  "That is well. Take English only, for the present. The grammar has about thirty rules. It will be necessary to learn them by heart."

  "I already know them, sir, but I do not know what the words mean.

  'What is it you say? You know the rules of the grammar, and yet don't know English? How can that be? When did you learn them?"

  "I heard your grammar class recite the rules before entering upon the rest of their lesson."

  The teacher looked over his glasses at the boy a while, in a puzzled way, then said-

  "If you know no English words, how did you know it was a grammar lesson?"

  "From similarities to the French-like the word grammar itself."

  "True! You have a headpiece! You will soon get the rules by heart."

  "I know them by heart, sir."

  "Impossible! You are speaking extravagantly; you do not know what you are saying."

  The boy bowed respectfully, resumed his upright position, and said nothing. The teacher felt rebuked, and said gently-

  "I should not have spoken so, and am sorry. Overlook it, my boy; recite me a rule of grammar-as well as you can-never mind the mistakes."

  The boy began with the first rule and went along with his task quite simply and comfortably, dropping rule after rule unmutilated from his lips, while the teacher and the school sat with parted lips and suspended breath, listening in mute wonder. At the finish the boy bowed again, and stood, waiting. Ferguson sat silent a moment or two in his great chair, then said-

  "On your honor-those rules were wholly unknown to you when you came into this house?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Upon my word I believe you, on the veracity that is written in your face. No-I don't-I can't. It is beyond the reach of belief. A memory like that-an car for pronunciation like that, is of course im-why, no one in the earth has such a memory as that!"