Frank Merriwell's New Comedian; Or, The Rise of a Star — Inside the Classic
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For Frank Merriwell's New Comedian; Or, The Rise of a Star — Inside the Classic, the stored edition analysis reports 59,412 words, 4 hr 19 min estimated reading time, and 6 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 12.6 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Adventure stories,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
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- Description quality20 pts
- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
- EPUB file integrity20 pts
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Read the Text
Frank could not express his astonishment.
"I can't believe it," he repeated. "Folansbee would not do such a thing."
Hodge laughed shortly, harshly.
"You have altogether too much confidence in human nature, Merry," he said. "I never took much stock in this Folansbee. He is just the sort of person I would expect to do such a trick."
"The company is hot, Merriwell," said Havener. "They're ready to eat you."
"For getting them into this scrape."
"I don't see how they can blame me."
There came a sound of feet outside and a bang on the door, which was flung open before Frank could reach it. Into the room stalked Granville Garland, followed by the remainder of the company. Plainly all were excited.
"Well, Mr. Merriwell," said Garland, assuming an accusing manner and striking a stage pose, "we are here."
"So I see," nodded Frank, calmly. "What's the matter?"
"You engaged us to fill parts in your play."
"We hold contracts with you."
"I beg your pardon. I think you are mistaken."
"I made no contracts with you; I simply engaged you. You hold contracts with Parker Folansbee."
"Folansbee has deserted us, sir," declared Garland, accusingly. "We have been tricked, fooled, deceived! We hold contracts. You were concerned with Folansbee in putting this company on the road, and you are responsible. We have come to you to find out what you mean to do."
"I am very sorry----" began Frank.
"Being sorry for us doesn't help us a bit," cut in Garland, rudely. "I believe you knew Folansbee was going to skip."
Frank turned his eyes full on the speaker, and he seemed to look his accuser straight through and through.
"Mr. Garland," he said, "you are rude and insulting. I do not fancy the way you speak to me."
"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
"That's what I'd like to know," put in Lloyd Fowler. "I want my money. I didn't come out here to be fooled this way."
"Mr. Fowler," spoke Frank, "you have not earned any money. Instead, you have earned a fine by appearing on the stage last night in a state of intoxication."
Fowler did not quite finish the word. Frank had him by the neck and pinned him against the wall in a moment. Merry's eyes were flashing fire, but his voice was steady, as he said:
"Take it back, sir! Apologize instantly for that!"
Garland made a move as if he would interfere, but Bart Hodge was before him in an instant, looking straight into his face, and saying:
"Hands off! Touch him and you get thumped!"
"Get out!" cried Garland.
"Not a bit of it. If you want a scrap, I shall be pleased to give you what you desire."
"Here, fellows!" called Garland; "get in here all of you and give these two tricksters a lesson! Come on!"
"Wait!" cried Havener, stepping to the other side of Merriwell. "Don't try it, for I shall stand by him!"
"Me, too, boys!" cried Cassie Lee, getting into line with her small fists clinched, and a look of determination on her thin face. "Don't nobody jump on Frank Merriwell unless I take a hand in the racket."
The rest of the company were astonished. They realized that Frank had some friends, but it was not until after he had awakened to realize just what the situation meant that Ephraim Gallup drew himself together and planted himself with Merry's party.
"Whe-ee!" he squealed. "If there's goin' ter be a ruction, yeou kin bet I'll fight fer Merry, though I ain't much of a fighter. I'd ruther run then fight any day, onless I have ter fight, but I reckon I'll hev ter fight in this case, if there is any fightin'."
Immediately Granville Garland became very placid in his manner.
"We didn't come here to fight," he said, "but we came here to demand our rights."
"An' to sass Frank," put in the Vermonter. "But, b'gosh! yeou are barkin' up ther wrong tree when yeou tackle him! He kin jest natterally chaw yeou up."
Frank still held Fowler against the wall. Now he spoke to the fellow in a low, commanding tone:
"Apologize at once," he said. "Come, sir, make haste!"
"I didn't mean anything," faltered the frightened actor. "I think I was too hasty. I apologize."
"Be careful in the future," advised Merry, releasing him.
Then Merry turned to the others, saying:
Frank Merriwell's New Comedian marks a notable shift in the long-running series, moving from athletic contests to the world of theater. The narrative voice remains brisk and declarative, but the pacing becomes more deliberate during suspense sequences. Standish uses short, punchy sentences to heighten tension, as when Frank narrowly escapes a fall: "No wonder he felt weak and limp. No wonder that he was jarred and somewhat bewildered." The interior monologue—"Thank God!"—reveals a reflective side of the hero, contrasting with the action-oriented earlier installments.
Voice and Interiority
The narrator maintains an omniscient but close third-person perspective, often filtering events through Frank's consciousness. This is evident in the scene where Frank awakens to danger: "Frank understood the full extent of the peril through which he had passed, and a prayer welled from his lips." The voice blends external action with internal reaction, giving readers access to Frank's gratitude and bewilderment. Standish occasionally breaks into direct exclamation—"What was it? Was it some good spirit that hovered near to protect him?"—which injects a melodramatic tone typical of the series. This technique keeps the emotional stakes high even during quieter moments.
Pacing and Suspense
The pacing in the excerpted passage is carefully controlled. Standish builds suspense through a sequence of short, fragmented actions: Frank lies panting, hears no sound, rises, lights the gas, and looks around. Each step is described in a separate sentence, slowing time and amplifying tension. The revelation that the room was occupied—"the bed was undisturbed"—creates a mystery that drives the narrative forward. The dialogue with the watchman introduces a lighter rhythm, with rapid exchanges that contrast the earlier tension. The punchline—"William Shakespeare Burns"—delivers a comic jolt that shifts the mood abruptly, showcasing Standish's ability to modulate pace within a single chapter.
Dialogue and Character Markers
Dialogue in this excerpt serves both to advance the plot and to define character. Frank speaks with polite urgency: "I want to know the name of the man who occupies No. 231." The watchman's responses are practical and slightly skeptical: "Does he snore loudly?" This exchange reveals Frank's resourcefulness—he offers a bribe—and the watchman's mercenary nature. Standish uses colloquial phrasing ("I didn’t think you could hear through those partitions") to ground the conversation in realism. The name "William Shakespeare Burns" is a deliberate absurdity that signals the theatrical theme, and Frank's reaction—"Frank staggered"—underscores his shock. The dialogue thus carries both narrative and thematic weight.
Readers approaching this installment should attend to how Standish balances the series' trademark action with new theatrical elements. The narrative voice remains consistent, but the pacing varies more widely than in earlier volumes, alternating between breathless suspense and comic relief. Pay attention to the way interior monologue and dialogue work together to reveal character, especially in scenes where Frank must think on his feet. These techniques make Frank Merriwell's New Comedian a distinctive entry in the series.
I’ve always loved how Frank Merriwell’s inner showman emerges when the stage replaces the field, that quiet thrill of a boy finding his voice. It reminds me of another patient friendship with the wilderness—With the Indians in the Rockies — Reading Notes—where our narrator learns he belongs not by conquering, but by listening. Both books whisper that same gentle truth.
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