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