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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Mark Twain

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The King warmed his heart with a second glass of wine, and said—“I would know thee—tell me thy story.  Thou hast a gallant way with thee, and a noble—art nobly born?”

 

“Oh, they mock at me!  They will go and tell.  Oh! why came I here to cast away my life?”

 

The justice glanced around uncomfortably upon the crowd, then nodded to the constable, and said—

 

It was his purpose, in the beginning, to stay where he was the rest of the day; but a chill soon invaded his perspiring body, and he was at last obliged to resume movement in order to get warm. He struck straight through the forest, hoping to pierce to a road presently, but he was disappointed in this.  He travelled on and on; but the farther he went, the denser the wood became, apparently.  The gloom began to thicken, by-and-by, and the King realised that the night was coming on.  It made him shudder to think of spending it in such an uncanny place; so he tried to hurry faster, but he only made the less speed, for he could not now see well enough to choose his steps judiciously; consequently he kept tripping over roots and tangling himself in vines and briers.

 

So, little by little, the story of the family came out.  Arthur had been dead six years.  This loss, with the absence of news from Hendon, impaired the father’s health; he believed he was going to die, and he wished to see Hugh and Edith settled in life before he passed away; but Edith begged hard for delay, hoping for Miles’s return; then the letter came which brought the news of Miles’s death; the shock prostrated Sir Richard; he believed his end was very near, and he and Hugh insisted upon the marriage; Edith begged for and obtained a month’s respite, then another, and finally a third; the marriage then took place by the death-bed of Sir Richard.  It had not proved a happy one.  It was whispered about the country that shortly after the nuptials the bride found among her husband’s papers several rough and incomplete drafts of the fatal letter, and had accused him of precipitating the marriage—and Sir Richard’s death, too—by a wicked forgery. Tales of cruelty to the Lady Edith and the servants were to be heard on all hands; and since the father’s death Sir Hugh had thrown off all soft disguises and become a pitiless master toward all who in any way depended upon him and his domains for bread.

 

The master’s pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said:

 

“Why, robbers, of course—who’d you reckon? Sunday-school sup’rintendents?”

 

Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible “Give me liberty or give me death” speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house’s silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early.

 

“Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?”

 

The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom’s marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: “Pretty thin—as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!”

 

“In this life, Satan, but in another? We shall meet in another, surely?”

 

“Why, of course it would be pleasant to remember, for the very reason we were out so late was that Nikolaus got to telling how good you are to him, and how he never got whipped when you were by to save him; and he was so full of it, and we were so full of the interest of it, that none of us noticed how late it was getting.”

 

Next we had Egyptian wars, Greek wars, Roman wars, hideous drenchings of the earth with blood; and we saw the treacheries of the Romans toward the Carthaginians, and the sickening spectacle of the massacre of those brave people. Also we saw Caesar invade Britain—“not that those barbarians had done him any harm, but because he wanted their land, and desired to confer the blessings of civilization upon their widows and orphans,” as Satan explained.

 

That was the fatal day. We were already counting the hours, too.

 

“Yes. You needn't try to get out of it; I had my eye on you.”

 

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