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.