shops, schools, churches, and hotels; and so the process of growth goes
on, the forest ever retreating as the dwellings of men multiply.

It was in a village with just such a history, and bearing the name of
Calumet, occupying a commanding situation on a vigorous tributary of the
Ottawa River--the Grand River, as the dwellers beside its banks are fond
of calling it--that Frank Kingston first made the discovery of his own
existence and of the world around him. He at once proceeded to make
himself master of the situation, and so long as he confined his efforts
to the limits of his own home he met with an encouraging degree of
success; for he was an only child, and, his father's occupation requiring
him to be away from home a large part of the year, his mother could
hardly be severely blamed if she permitted her boy to have a good deal of
his own way.

In the result, however, he was not spoiled. He came of sturdy, sensible
stock, and had inherited some of the best qualities from both sides of
the house. To his mother he owed his fair curly hair, his deep blue,
honest eyes, his impulsive and tender heart; to his father, his strong
symmetrical figure, his quick brain, and his eager ambition. He was a
good-looking, if not strikingly handsome, boy, and carried himself in an
alert, active way that made a good impression on one at the start. He had
a quick temper that would flash out hotly if he were provoked, and at
such times he would do and say things for which he was heartily sorry
afterwards. But from those hateful qualities that we call malice,
rancour, and sullenness he was absolutely free. To "have it out" and then
shake hands and forget all about it--that was his way of dealing with a
disagreement. Boys built on these lines are always popular among their
comrades, and Frank was no exception. In fact, if one of those amicable
contests as to the most popular personage, now so much in vogue at fairs