: Frank the Young Naturalist by Castlemon Harry - Adventure stories; Sailors Juvenile fiction; Survival skills Juvenile fiction; Cousins Juvenile fiction; Youth Conduct of life Juvenile fiction; Naturalists Juvenile fiction; Hunters Juvenile fiction

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FRANK, THE YOUNG NATURALIST.

THE HOME OF THE YOUNG NATURALIST.

About one hundred miles north of Augusta, the Capital of Maine, the little village of Lawrence is situated. A range of high hills skirts its western side, and stretches away to the north as far as the eye can reach; while before the village, toward the east, flows the Kennebec River.

Near the base of the hills a beautiful stream, known as Glen's Creek, has its source; and, after winding through the adjacent meadows, and reaching almost around the village, finally empties into the Kennebec. Its waters are deep and clear, and flow over a rough, gravelly bed, and under high banks, and through many a little nook where the perch and sunfish love to hide. This creek, about half a mile from its mouth, branches off, forming two streams, the smaller of which flows south, parallel with the river for a short distance, and finally empties into it. This stream is known as Ducks' Creek, and it is very appropriately named; for, although it is but a short distance from the village, every autumn, and until late in the spring, its waters are fairly alive with wild ducks, which find secure retreats among the high bushes and reeds which line its banks. The island formed by these two creeks is called Reynard's Island, from the fact that for several years a sly old fox had held possession of it in spite of the efforts of the village boys to capture him. The island contains, perhaps, twenty-five acres, and is thickly covered with hickory-trees; and there is an annual strife between the village boys and the squirrels, to see which can gather the greater quantity of nuts.

Directly opposite the village, near the middle of the river, is another island, called Strawberry Island, from the great quantity of that fruit which it produces.

It was on the banks of Glen's Creek, about half a mile from the village, in a neat little cottage that stood back from the road, and which was almost concealed by the thick shrubbery and trees that surrounded it, that FRANK NELSON, the young naturalist, lived. His father had been a wealthy merchant in the city of Boston; and, after his death, Mrs. Nelson had removed into the country with her children, and bought the place of which we are speaking. Frank was a handsome, high-spirited boy, about sixteen years of age. He was kind, open-hearted, and generous; and no one in the village had more friends than he. But his most prominent characteristic was perseverance. He was a slow thinker, and some, perhaps, at first sight, would have pronounced him "dull;" but the unyielding application with which he devoted himself to his studies, or to any thing else he undertook, overcame all obstacles; and he was further advanced, and his knowledge was more thorough than that of any other boy of the same age in the village. He never gave up any thing he undertook because he found it more difficult than he had expected, or hurried over it in a "slipshod" manner, for his motto was, "Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well."

Things went on so for a considerable time. Frank, whose highest ambition was to be called the best scholar in his class, kept steadily gaining ground, and one by one the rival students were overtaken and distanced. But Frank had some smart scholars matched against him, and he knew that the desired reputation was not to be obtained without a fierce struggle; and every moment, both in and out of school, was devoted to study.

He had formerly been passionately fond of rural sports, hunting and fishing, but now his fine double-barrel gun, which he had always taken especial care to keep in the best possible "shooting order," hung in its accustomed place, all covered with dust. His fishing-rod and basket were in the same condition; and Bravo, his fine hunting-dog, which was very much averse to a life of inactivity, made use of his most eloquent whines in vain.

At last Frank's health began to fail rapidly. His mother was the first to notice it, and at the suggestion of her brother, who lived in Portland, she decided to take Frank out of school for at least one year, and allow him but two hours each day for study. Perhaps some of our young readers would have been very much pleased at the thought of so long a respite from the tiresome duties of school; but it was a severe blow to Frank. A few more months, he was confident, would have carried him ahead of all competitors. But he always submitted to his mother's requirements, no matter how much at variance with his own wishes, without murmuring; and when the spring term was ended he took his books under his arm, and bade a sorrowful farewell to his much-loved school-room.

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.

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