In School and Out.

by Oliver Optic.

PREFACE.

The second volume of the Woodville Stories contains the experience of Richard Grant, "in school and out." We are sorry to say that Richard had become a bad boy, and was in the habit of getting into the most abominable sc.r.a.pes, some of which are detailed in the first chapters of this book. But he is not what is sometimes called a vicious boy, for he has many good qualities, which redeem him from absolute condemnation.

There is something n.o.ble in his character, which is the germ of his ultimate salvation from the sins which so easily beset him.

Richard, like thousands of others, finds his strongest and most dangerous foe within his own heart; and the conquest he achieves is not a triumph of mind over matter, of force over force, but of principle over pa.s.sion, of the good angels in the heart over the invading legion of evil ones.

Richard's experience is full of stirring incidents; and while the author hopes therein to realize the expectations of his partial young friends, he begs them to remember that these exciting events are only the canvas upon which he has endeavored to paint the great change wrought in the character of the hero. There is a moral in the story, and though the author has not attempted to "point" it, he hopes his young readers will feel it, even if they do not see it.

Again it affords me pleasure to acknowledge my indebtedness to my young friends for the kind reception given to my books. I trust that this, the twentieth volume of my "Stories for Young People," will not disappoint their hopes, or fail to improve their minds and hearts.

WILLIAM T. ADAMS.

DORCHESTER, Oct. 26, 1863.

CHAPTER I.

RICHARD GRANT AND FRIEND GET INTO AN AWFUL Sc.r.a.pE.

"Now, steady as she is," said Sandy Brimblecom, who lay upon the half-deck of the Greyhound, endeavoring to peer through the darkness of a cloudy night, which had settled deep and dense upon the Hudson, and obscured every object on the sh.o.r.e. "Steady as she is, d.i.c.k, and we shall go in all right."

"Ay, ay; steady it is," replied Richard Grant, who was at the helm.

"Port a little! Port a little!" added Sandy, a few moments after, as he discovered the entrance of a little inlet, which was the destination of the Greyhound.

"Shut up your head, Sandy!" replied Richard, in a low but energetic tone. "You might as well publish our plan in the newspaper as speak as loud as that."

"Port a little more," said the lookout forward.

"What's the use of hallooing port?" answered Richard, impatiently.

"Don't you see the mainsail shakes now?"

"You will be on the rocks in half a minute more."

"Let her go about, then, and we will get a little farther to windward before we try to run in."

The Greyhound came over on the other tack, and stood away from the sh.o.r.e a considerable distance. The wind was very light, and the current was against them; so the progress of the boat was necessarily very slow.

"Now, Sandy Brimblecom," said Richard, when the boat had made a third of the distance to the opposite sh.o.r.e, "we might as well go back to Woodville, and go to bed, as to attempt to carry this thing through, if you are going to bellow and yell like a mad bull."

"I didn't think I spoke very loud," replied Sandy.

"Didn't think so!" sneered Richard. "Any one might have heard you clear across the river."

"O, no, d.i.c.k; not so bad as that."

"You spoke too loud, at any rate, and you might as well go up and tell 'Old Batterbones' what we are about as talk half so loud as you did."

"Come, d.i.c.k, you have said enough," replied Sandy, who did not relish all the reflections that were cast upon his conduct.

"You are as stupid as an owl; I thought you had some common sense."

"That'll do, d.i.c.k; I don't want any more of that kind of blarney; and if you don't shut up, you or I will get a black eye."

Richard did not seem to have much doubt which of them would obtain this ornamental tinting of the physiognomy, for he immediately changed his tone, and did not venture to apply any more unpleasant epithets to his companion. Sandy had obtained some reputation as a fighting character, and was virtually the champion of the ring among the boys in the vicinity of Whitestone.

"Now be more careful, this time, Sandy," said Richard, as he put the boat about upon the other tack.

"Don't give me any more lip, d.i.c.k, and I will do any thing you want,"

replied Sandy, mollified by the altered tones of his friend.

"Don't get mad; we have no time to quarrel, if we mean to put this thing through to-night."

"I am ready to put it through, but I have no notion of being treated like a slave or a fool," said Sandy, as he lay down upon the half-deck, and began to gaze into the gloom ahead of the boat. "Luff a little," he added, as he discovered the dim outline of the sh.o.r.e.

"Luff, it is."

This time, both boys spoke in a low tone, and the want of harmony which a few moments before had threatened to break up the enterprise, and end in a game of rough and tumble, was removed. The Greyhound, under the skilful management of Richard,--for there was not a better sailor of his years on the Hudson,--was thrown into the inlet without touching the rocks which lay at the entrance.

Sandy, with the painter in his hand, jumped ash.o.r.e, and made fast to a small tree on the bank. Neither of the boys spoke a loud word, and Richard carefully brailed up the sails, so that their flapping should not attract the attention of any person who might be in the vicinity.

"Now, d.i.c.k, if you will follow me, I will lead you up to Old Batterbones' garden," whispered Sandy, when the sail boat had been properly secured.

"I will follow you. Have you got the bag?"

"Yes--all right."

Richard followed his companion up the steep bank of the river, across a field, till they came to a fence, where they paused to reconnoitre.

"Now be careful, Sandy," whispered Richard, nervously, "for I wouldn't be caught in this sc.r.a.pe for the best hundred dollars that ever was."

"I don't want to be caught any more than you do," replied Sandy.

"Well, it won't make so much difference with you as it will with me."

"Won't it! Don't you think my neck is worth as much to me as yours is to you?"

"I don't mean that, of course. Your father is a carpenter, and people won't think half so much of it if you are caught, as they would in my case."

"My father never was in the Tombs if he is a carpenter," growled Sandy.