He then untied the painter--a long rope by which the scow was fastened to the wharf--and drew the scow down to the place where he had left the wheelbarrow.

He stood for some moments holding the end of the painter in his hand, and thinking how he should go to work to get the scow, which was very heavy and unwieldy, upon the wheelbarrow.

But Frank was a true Yankee, and fruitful in expedients, and he soon hit upon a plan, which he was about putting into execution, when a strong, cheery voice called out: "Arrah, me boy! What'll yer be after doing with the boat ?" Frank looked up and saw Uncle Mike, as the boys called him--a good-natured Irishman, who lived in a small rustic cottage not far from Mrs.Nelson's--coming down the bank.
"Good morning, Uncle Mike," said Frank, politely accepting the Irishman's proffered hand and shaking it cordially.

"I want to get this scow up to my shop; but I'm afraid it is a little too heavy for me to manage." "So it is, intirely," said Mike, as he divested himself of his coat, and commenced rolling up his shirt-sleeves.

"Allow me to lend yer a helpin' hand." And, taking the painter from Frank's hand, he drew the scow out of the water, high upon the bank.