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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREAKING AWAY *** Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from scans of public domain material produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)
THE STARRY FLAG SERIES, BY OLIVER OPTIC.
I. THE STARRY FLAG; or, The Young Fisherman of Cape Ann. II. FREAKS OF FORTUNE; or, Half round the World. III. BREAKING AWAY; or, The Fortunes of a Student. IV. SEEK AND FIND; or, The Adventures of a Smart Boy. V. MAKE OR BREAK; or, The Rich Man's Daughter. VI. DOWN THE RIVER; or, Buck Bradford and his Tyrants.
THE REBELLION IN THE PARKVILLE LITERARY INSTITUTE.—Page 30. BREAKING AWAY; OR, THE FORTUNES OF A STUDENT. BY OLIVER OPTIC,
AUTHOR OF "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD," "THE ARMY AND NAVY STORIES,"
"THE WOODVILLE STORIES," "THE BOAT-CLUB STORIES,"
"THE RIVERDALE STORIES," ETC.





BOSTON:
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
William T. Adams,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
Copyright, 1895, by William T. Adams.
All rights reserved.
BREAKING AWAY.
TO

My Young Friend,

HARLAN H. BALLARD,

This Book

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.

[5]

PREFACE.

"Breaking Away" is the second of the series of stories published in "Our Boys and Girls," and the author had no reason to complain of the reception accorded to it by his young friends, as it appeared in the weekly issues of the Magazine; but, on the contrary, he finds renewed occasion cordially to thank them for their continued appreciation of his earnest efforts to please them.

After an experience of more than twenty years as a teacher, the writer did not expect his young friends to sympathize with the schoolmaster of this story, for doubtless many of them have known and despised a similar creature in real life. Mr. Parasyte is not a myth; but we are grateful that an enlightened public sentiment is every year rendering more and more odious the petty tyrant of the school-room, and we are too happy to give this retreating personage a parting blow as he retires from the scene of his fading glories.

Rebellions, either in the school or in the state, are always dangerous and demoralizing; but while we unequivocally condemn[6] the tyrant in our story, we cannot always approve the conduct of his pupils. One evil gives birth to another; but even a righteous end cannot justify immoral means, and we beg to remind our young and enthusiastic readers that Ernest Thornton and his friends were compelled to acknowledge that they had done wrong in many things, and that "Breaking Away" was deemed a very doubtful expedient for the redress even of a real wrong.

As it was impossible for Ernest to relate the whole of his eventful history in one volume, Breaking Away will be immediately followed by a sequel,—"Seek and Find,"—in which the hero will narrate his adventures in seeking and finding his mother, of whose tender care he was deprived from his earliest childhood.

Harrison Square, Mass.,
September 23, 1867.

[7]

CONTENTS.
  PAGE CHAPTER I. In which Ernest Thornton introduces Himself. 11
CHAPTER II. In which there is Trouble in the Parkville Liberal Institute. 22
CHAPTER III. In which Ernest is expelled from the Parkville Liberal Institute. 33
CHAPTER IV. In which Ernest sails the Splash, and Takes a Bath. 44
CHAPTER V. In which Ernest declines a Proposition. 55
CHAPTER VI. In which Ernest finds his Fellow-Students in open Rebellion. 66
CHAPTER VII. [8]In which Ernest attends the Trial of Bill Poodles and Dick Pearl. 78
CHAPTER VIII. In which Ernest vanquishes the Schoolmaster. 89
CHAPTER IX. In which Ernest strikes a heavy Blow, and wins another Victory. 100
CHAPTER X. In which Ernest has an Interview with his Uncle. 111
CHAPTER XI. In which Ernest is disowned and cast out. 122
CHAPTER XII. In which Ernest raises the Splash, and there is a general Breaking Away among the Students.         132
CHAPTER XIII. In which Ernest is chosen Commodore of the Fleet. 144
CHAPTER XIV. In which Ernest is waited upon by a Deputy Sheriff. 155
CHAPTER XV. In which Ernest and the Commissary visit Cannondale. 166
CHAPTER XVI. [9]In which Ernest conveys the Students to Pine Island. 177
CHAPTER XVII. In which Ernest finds there is Treason in the Camp. 188
CHAPTER XVIII. In which Ernest and his Companions land at Cannondale. 199
CHAPTER XIX. In which Ernest and his Friends are disgusted with Mr. Parasyte's Ingratitude. 211
CHAPTER XX. In which Ernest takes the Wheel of the Adieno. 222
CHAPTER XXI. In which Ernest continues to act as Pilot of the Steamer. 233
CHAPTER XXII. In which Ernest pilots the Adieno to "The Sisters." 244
CHAPTER XXIII. In which Ernest takes Command of the Expedition. 255
CHAPTER XXIV. In which Ernest engages in an Exciting Steamboat Race. 266
CHAPTER XXV. In which Ernest pilots the Adieno to Parkville. 277
CHAPTER XXVI. In which Ernest finds a Change in the Management of the Institute. 287

[11]

BREAKING AWAY; OR, THE FORTUNES OF A STUDENT. CHAPTER I. IN WHICH ERNEST THORNTON INTRODUCES HIMSELF.

"Ernest Thornton!" called Mr. Parasyte, the principal of the Parkville Liberal Institute, in a tone so stern and severe that it was impossible to mistake his meaning, or not to understand that a tempest was brewing. "Ernest Thornton!"

As that was my name, I replied to the summons by rising, and exhibiting my full length to all the boys assembled in the school-room—about one hundred in number.

"Ernest Thornton!" repeated Mr. Parasyte, not satisfied with the demonstration I had made.[12]

"Sir!" I replied, in a round, full, square tone, which was intended to convince the principal that I was ready to "face the music."

"Ernest Thornton, I am informed that you have been engaged in a fight," he continued, in a tone a little less sharp than that with which he had pronounced my name; and I had the vanity to believe that the square tone in which I had uttered the single word I had been called upon to speak had produced a salutary impression upon him.

"I haven't been engaged in any fight, sir," I replied, with all the dignity becoming a boy of fourteen.

"Sir! what do you mean by denying it?" added Mr. Parasyte, working himself up into a magnificent mood, which was intended to crush me by its very majesty—but it didn't.

"I have not engaged in any fight, sir," I repeated, with as much decision as the case seemed to require.

"Didn't you strike William Poodles?" demanded he, fiercely.

"Yes, sir, I did. Bill Poodles hit me in the head,[13] and I knocked him over in self-defence—that was all, sir."

"Don't you call that a fight, sir?" said Mr. Parasyte, knitting his brows, and looking savage enough to swallow me.

"No, sir; I do not. I couldn't stand still and let him pound me."

"You irritated him in the beginning, and provoked him to strike the blow. I hold you responsible for the fight."

"I had no intention to irritate him, and I did not wish to provoke him."

"I hold you responsible for the fight, Thornton," said the principal again.

I supposed he would, for Poodles was the son of a very wealthy and aristocratic merchant in the city of New York, while I belonged to what the principal regarded as an inferior order of society. At least twenty boys in the Parkville Liberal Institute came upon the recommendation of Poodle's father, while not a single one had been lured into these classic shades by the influence of my family—if I could be said to belong to any family.[14] Besides, I was but a day scholar, and my uncle paid only tuition bills for me, while most of the pupils were boarders at the Institute.

I am writing of events which took place years ago, but I have seen no reason to change the opinion then formed, that Mr. Parasyte, the principal, was a "toady" of the first water; that he was a narrow-minded, partial man, in whom the principle of justice had never been developed. He was a good teacher, an excellent teacher; by which I mean only to say that he had a rare skill and tact for imparting knowledge, the mere dry bones of art, science, and philosophy. He was a capital scholar himself, and a capital teacher; but that is the most that can be said of him.

I have no hesitation in saying that his influence upon the boys was bad, as that of every narrow-minded, partial, and unjust man must be; and if I had any boys to send away to a boarding school, they should go to a good and true man, even if I knew him to be, intellectually, an inferior teacher, rather than to such a person as Mr. Parasyte. He "toadied" to the rich boys, and oppressed the poorer[15] ones. Poodles was the most important boy in the school, and he was never punished for his faults, which were not few, nor compelled to learn his lessons, as other boys were. But I think Poodles hated the magnate of the Parkville Liberal Institute as much as any other boy.

Parkville is situated on Lake Adieno, a beautiful sheet of water, twenty miles in length, in the very heart of the State of New York. The town was a thriving place of four thousand inhabitants, at which a steamboat stopped twice every day in her trip around the lake. The academy was located at the western verge of the town, while my home was about a mile beyond the eastern line of the village.

I lived with my uncle, Amos Thornton. His residence was a vine-clad cottage, built in the Swiss style, on the border of the lake, the lawn in front of it extending down to the water's edge. My uncle was a strange man. He had erected this cottage ten years before the time at which my story opens, when I was a mere child. He had employed in the beginning, before the house was completed,[16] a man and his wife as gardener and housekeeper, and they had been residents in the cottage ever since.

I said that my uncle was a strange man; and so he was. He hardly ever spoke a word to any one, and never unless it was absolutely necessary to do so. He was not one of the talking kind; and old Jerry, the gardener, and old Betsey, the housekeeper, seemed to have been cast in the same mould. I never heard them talking to each other, and they certainly never spoke to me unless I asked them a question, and then only in the briefest manner.

I never knew what to make of my uncle Amos. He had a little room, which he called his library, in one corner of the house, which could be entered only by passing through his bedroom. In this apartment he spent most of his time, though he went out to walk every day, while I was at school; but, if he saw me coming, he always retreated to the house. He was gloomy and misanthropic; he never went to church himself, though he always compelled me

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