FRANK AND ARCHIE SERIES
* * * * *
FRANK
THE YOUNG NATURALIST
BY
HARRY CASTLEMON,
AUTHOR OF "THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES,"
"THE GO-AHEAD SERIES," ETC.
1892
[Illustration]
THE GUN-BOAT SERIES.
FRANK, THE YOUNG NATURALIST,
FRANK ON A GUN-BOAT,
FRANK IN THE WOODS,
FRANK ON THE PRAIRIE,
FRANK BEFORE VICKSBURG,
FRANK ON THE LOWER MISSISSIPPI.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE HOME OF THE YOUNG NATURALIST
CHAPTER II.
AN UGLY CUSTOMER
CHAPTER III.
THE MUSEUM
CHAPTER IV.
A RACE ON THE WATER
CHAPTER V.
A FISHING EXCURSION
CHAPTER VI.
THE REGULATORS
CHAPTER VII.
THE REVENGE
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW TO SPEND THE "FOURTH"
CHAPTER IX.
THE COAST-GUARDS OUTWITTED
CHAPTER X.
A QUEER COURSE
CHAPTER XI.
TROUT-FISHING
CHAPTER XII.
A DUCK-HUNT ON THE WATER
CHAPTER XIII.
A 'COON-HUNT
CHAPTER XIV.
BILL LAWSON'S REVENGE
CHAPTER XV.
WILD GEESE
CHAPTER XVI.
A CHAPTER OF INCIDENTS
CHAPTER XVII.
THE GRAYHOUND OUTGENERALED
FRANK, THE YOUNG NATURALIST.
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
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.
The fishing-grounds about the village are excellent. The river affords
great numbers of perch, black bass, pike, and muscalonge; and the
numberless little streams that intersect the country fairly swarm with
trout, and the woods abound in game. This attracts sportsmen from
other places; and the _Julia Burton_, the little steamer that plies up
and down the river, frequently brings large parties of amateur
hunters and fishermen, who sometimes spend months enjoying the rare
sport.
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."
At the time of which we write Frank was just entering upon what he
called a "long vacation." He had attended the high-school of which the
village boasted for nearly eight years, with no intermission but the
vacations, and during this time he had devoted himself with untiring
energy to his studies. He loved his books, and they were his constant
companions. By intense application he succeeded in working his way
into the highest class in school, which was composed of young men much
older than himself, and who looked upon him, not as a fellow-student,
but as a rival, and used every exertion to prevent him from keeping
pace with them. But Frank held his own in spite of their efforts, and
not unfrequently paid them back in their own coin by committing his
lessons more thoroughly than they.
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.
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.