"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 to go, and also to attend the sunday school. he did not go into society, and had little or noth[17]ing to do with, or to say to, the people of parkville. he never troubled them, and they were content to let him alone.

as may well be supposed, my life at the cottage was not the pleasantest that could be imagined. it was hardly a home, only a stopping-place to me. it was gloom and silence there, and my uncle was the lord of the silent land. such a life was not to my taste, and i envied the boys and girls of my acquaintance in parkville, as i saw them talking and laughing with their fathers and mothers, their brothers and sisters, or gathered in the social circle around the winter fire. it seemed to me that their cup of joy was full, while mine was empty. i longed for friends and companions to share with me the cares and the pleasures of life.

of myself i knew little or nothing. my memory hardly reached farther back than the advent of my uncle at lake adieno, and all my early associations were connected with the cottage and its surroundings. i had a glimmering and indistinct idea of something before our coming to parkville. it seemed to me that i had once known a motherly lady[18] with a sweet and lovely expression on her face; and i had a faint recollection of looking out upon a dreary waste of waters; but i could not fix the idea distinctly in my mind. i supposed that the lady was my mother. i made several vain efforts to induce my uncle to tell me something about her; if he knew anything, he would not tell me.

old jerry and his wife evidently had no knowledge whatever in regard to me before my uncle brought me to parkville. they could not tell me anything, and my uncle would not. though i was a boy of only fourteen, this concealment of my birth and parentage troubled me. i was told that my father was dead; and this was all the information i could obtain. where he had lived, when and where he died, i was not permitted to know. if i asked a question, my uncle turned on his heel and left me, with no reply.

the vision of the motherly lady, distant and indistinct as it was, haunted me like a familiar melody. if the person was my mother, why should her very name be kept from me? if she was still living, why could i not go to her? if she was dead,[19] why might i not water the green sod above her grave with my tears, and plant the sweetest flowers by her tombstone? i was dissatisfied with my lot, and i was determined, at no distant day, to wring from my silent uncle the particulars of my early history. i was so eager to get this knowledge that i was almost ready to take him by the throat, if need be, and force out the truth from between his closed lips.

i never had an opportunity to speak with him; but i could make the opportunity. he took no notice of me; he avoided me; he seemed hardly to be conscious of my existence. yet he was not a hard man, in the common sense of the word. he clothed me as well as the best boys in the institute. if i wanted anything for the table, old jerry was ordered to procure it. when i was ten years old a little row-boat was furnished for me; but before i was fourteen i wanted something better, and told my uncle so. he made me no reply; but on my next birthday a splendid sail-boat floated on the lake before the house, which jerry said had been built for me. i told my silent lord that i was much obliged[20] to him for his very acceptable present, when i happened to catch him on the lawn. he turned on his heel, and fled as though i had stung him with the sting of ingratitude.

if i wanted anything, i had only to mention it; and no one criticised my conduct, whatever i did. i was free to go and come when i pleased; and though in vacation i was absent three days at once in my boat, no one asked me where i had been, or what i had done. neither my uncle nor his silent satellites ever expressed a fear that i might be drowned in my voyages in night and storm on the lake; and i came to the conclusion that no one would care if i were lost.

i do not know how, under such a home government, i ever became a decent fellow. i do not know why i am not now a pirate, a freebooter, a pickpocket, or a nuisance to myself and the world in some other capacity. i have come to believe since that my inherited good qualities saved me under such an utter neglect of all home influences. it is a marvel to me that i was not ruined before i was twenty-one; and from the deepest depths of my[21] heart i thank god for his mercy in sparing me from the fate which generally and naturally overtakes such a neglected child.

at the age of twelve, after i had passed through the common school of the town, i was admitted to the parkville liberal institute, which i wished to attend because a friend of mine in the town was there. my uncle did not object—he never objected to anything. without pride or vanity i may say that i was a good scholar, and i took the highest rank at the academy. when i was about twelve years old, some instructions which i received in the sunday school produced a strong impression on my mind, and led me to take my stand for life. i tried to be true to god and myself, to be just and manly in all things. whatever the world may sneeringly say of goodness and truth, i am sure that i owe my popularity among the boys of the parkville liberal institute to these endeavors—not always successful—to do right.