and each seems to think the other
has no business about the cottage; and Frank has been the unwilling
witness to many a desperate fight between them, in which the poor
crow always comes off second best. Then, to console himself, he will
fly upon Frank's shoulder, cawing with all his might, as if scolding
him for not lending some assistance. To make amends for his defeat,
Frank gives him a few kernels of corn, and then shows him a hawk
sailing through the air; and Sam, as he calls the crow, is off in an
instant, and, after tormenting the hawk until he reaches the woods, he
will always return.

Not a strange bird is allowed to come about the cottage. The
kingbirds, which have a nest in a tree close by the house, keep a
sharp look-out; and hawks, eagles, crows, and even those of their own
species, all suffer alike. But now and then a spry little wren pays a
visit to the orchard, and then there is sport indeed. The wren is a
great fighting character, continually getting into broils with the
other birds, and he has no notion of being driven off; and, although
the kingbirds, with Sam's assistance, generally succeed in expelling
the intruder, it is only after a hard fight.

Directly opposite the door that opens into the museum is another
entrance, which leads into a room which Frank calls his shop. A
work-bench has been neatly fitted up in one corner, at the end of
which stands a large chest filled with carpenter's tools. On the bench
are several half-finished specimens of Frank's skill--a jointed
fish-pole, two or three finely-shaped hulls, and a miniature frigate,
which he is making for one of his friends. The shop and tools are kept
in the nicest order, and Frank spends every rainy day at his bench.

The young naturalist is also a good sailor, and has the reputation of
understanding the management of a sail-boat as well as any other boy
in the village. He has two boats, which are in the creek, tied to the
wharf in front of the house. One of them is a light skiff, which he
frequently uses in going to and from the village and on his fishing
excursions, and the other is a scow, about twenty feet long and six
feet wide, which he built himself. He calls her the Speedwell. He has
no sail-boat, but he has passed hour after hour trying to conjure up
some plan by which he might be enabled to possess himself of one. Such
a one as he wants, and as most of the village have, would cost fifty
dollars. Already he has laid by half that