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.