It is June, and as Frank has been out of school almost two months, things begin to wear their old, accustomed look again. The young naturalist's home, as his schoolmates were accustomed to say, is a "regular curiosity shop." Perhaps, reader, if we take a stroll about the premises, we can find something to interest us.
Frank's room, which he called his "study," is in the south wing of the cottage. It has two windows, one looking out toward the road, and the other covered with a thick blind of climbing roses, which almost shut out the light. A bookcase stands beside one of the windows, and if you were to judge from the books it contained, you would pronounce Frank quite a literary character. The two upper shelves are occupied by miscellaneous books, such as Cooper's novels, Shakspeare's works, and the like. On the next two shelves stand Frank's choicest books—natural histories; there are sixteen large volumes, and he knows them almost by heart. The drawers in the lower part of the case are filled on one side with writing materials, and on the other with old compositions, essays, and orations, some of which exhibit a power of imagination and a knowledge of language hardly to be expected in a boy of Frank's age. On the top of the case, at either end, stand the busts of Clay and Webster, and between them are two relics of Revolutionary times, a sword and musket crossed, with the words "Bunker Hill" printed on a slip of paper fastened to them. On the opposite side of the room stands a bureau, the drawers of which are filled with clothing, and on the top are placed two beautiful specimens of Frank's handiwork. One is a model of a "fore-and-aft" schooner, with whose rigging or hull the most particular tar could not find fault. The other represents a "scene at sea." It is inclosed in a box about two feet long and a foot and a half in hight. One side of the box is glass, and through it can be seen two miniature vessels. The craft in the foreground would be known among sailors as a "Jack." She is neither a brig nor a bark, but rather a combination of both. She is armed, and the cannon can be seen protruding from her port-holes. Every sail is set, and she seems to be making great exertion to escape from the other vessel, which is following close in her wake. The flag which floats at her peak, bearing the sign of the "skull and cross-bones," explains it all: the "Jack" is a pirate; and you could easily tell by the long, low, black hull, and tall, raking masts that her pursuer is a revenue cutter. The bottom of the box, to which the little vessels are fastened in such a manner that they appear to "heel" under the pressure of their canvas, is cut out in little hollows, and painted blue, with white caps, to resemble the waves of the ocean; while a thick, black thunder-cloud, which is painted on the sides of the box, and appears to be rising rapidly, with the lightning playing around its ragged edges, adds greatly to the effect of the scene.
At the north end of the room stands a case similar to the one in which Frank keeps his books, only it is nearly twice as large. It is filled with stuffed "specimens"—birds, nearly two hundred in number. There are bald eagles, owls, sparrows, hawks, cranes, crows, a number of different species of ducks, and other water-fowl; in short, almost every variety of the feathered creation that inhabited the woods around Lawrence is here represented.
At the other end of the room stands a bed concealed by curtains. Before it is a finely carved wash-stand, on which are a pitcher and bowl, and a towel nicely folded lies beside them. In the corner, at the foot of the bed, is what Frank called his "sporting cabinet." A frame has been erected by placing two posts against the wall, about four feet apart; and three braces, pieces of board about six inches wide, and long enough to reach from one post to the other, are fastened securely to them. On the upper brace a fine jointed fish-pole, such as is used in "heavy" fishing, protected by a neat, strong bag of drilling, rests on hooks which have been driven securely into the frame; and from another hook close by hangs a large fish-basket which Frank, who is a capital fisherman, has often brought in filled with the captured denizens of the river or some favorite trout-stream. On the next lower brace hang a powder-flask and shot-pouch and a double-barrel shot-gun, the latter protected from the damp and dust by a thick, strong covering. On the lower brace hang the clothes the young naturalist always wears when he goes hunting or fishing—a pair of sheep's-gray pantaloons, which will resist water and dirt to the last extremity, a pair of long boots, a blue flannel-shirt, such as is generally worn by the sailors, and an India-rubber coat and cap for rainy weather. A shelf has been fastened over the frame, and on this stands a tin box, which Frank calls his "fishing-box." It is divided into apartments, which are filled with fish-hooks, sinkers, bobbers, artificial flies, spoon-hooks, reels, and other tackle, all kept in the nicest order.
Frank had one sister, but no brothers. Her name was Julia. She was ten years of age; and no boy ever had a lovelier sister. Like her brother, she was unyielding in perseverance, but kind and trusting in disposition, willing to be told her faults that she might correct them. Mrs. Nelson was a woman of good, sound sense; always required implicit obedience of her children; never flattered them, nor allowed others to do so if she could prevent it. The only other inmate of the house was Aunt Hannah, as the children called her. She had formerly been a slave in Virginia, and, after years of toil, had succeeded in laying by sufficient money to purchase her freedom. We have already spoken of Frank's dog; but were we to allow the matter to drop here it would be a mortal offense in the eyes of the young naturalist, for Bravo held a very prominent position in his affections. He was a pure-blooded Newfoundland, black as jet, very active and courageous, and there was nothing in the hunting line that he did not understand; and it was a well-established saying among the young Nimrods of the village, that Frank, with Bravo's assistance, could kill more squirrels in any given time than any three boys in Lawrence.
CHAPTER II.
An Ugly Customer.
Directly behind the cottage stands a long, low, neatly constructed building, which is divided by partitions into three rooms, of which one is used as a wood-shed, another for a carpenter's shop, and the third is what Frank calls his "museum." It contains stuffed birds and animals, souvenirs of many a well-contested fight. Let us go and examine them. About the middle of the building is the door which leads into the museum, and, as you enter, the first object that catches your eye is a large wild-cat, crouched on a stand which is elevated about four feet above the floor, his back arched, every hair in his body sticking toward his head, his mouth open, displaying a frightful array of teeth, his ears laid back close to his head, and his sharp claws spread out, presenting altogether a savage appearance; and you are glad that you see him dead and stuffed, and not alive and running at liberty in the forest in the full possession of strength. But the young naturalist once stood face to face with this ugly customer under very different circumstances.