"I'fe got der small pox, I'fe got der--" Here his voice was lost as he dashed into the open door of the house. But in a minute he reappeared, followed by a broom with an enraged woman annexed, and a loud voice shouting out,-- "You git out of this! Clear yourself, quicker! I ain't goin' to have you diseasin' honest folks, ef you have got the smallpox." "I dells you I'fe got der small pox. Ton't you versteh? der SMALL POX!" This time he shouted it out in capital letters! "Clear out! I'll call the men-folks ef you don't clear;" and at once she shouted, in a tip-top voice, "Ike, you Ike, where air you?" Ike made his appearance on the full run. "W-w-what's the matter, mother?"--_Miss_ Scudder his mother! I should have been shocked, as I was on my first visit to New Jersey, if I had not had a key to this. "That is a very pretty girl," I said on that occasion to a Jersey-man; "who is she?"--"She's old _Miss_ Perrine's da'ter," was the reply. I looked at the innocent victim of man's criminal conduct with commiseration. "What a pity!" I remarked. "Not such a very great pity," said Jersey, eying me very severely. "I reckon old man Perrine's got as big a cedar-swamp as you, or I either, would like to own." "Her grandfather you speak of?" "No, I don't: I'm talking 'bout her father,--he that married Abe Simm's da'ter and got a power of land by it; and that gal, their da'ter, one of these days will step right into them swamps." "Oh," I replied, "_Mrs._ Perrine's daughter," accenting the "Missis!" "Mussus or Miss, it's all the same in Jersey," he answered. Knowing this, Ike's appeal was intelligible. To proceed with our story, the driver, very angry by this time, shouted,-- "I dells you oonst more for der last dime. I'fe got der small pox! unt Mishter Ellis he gifs me a leffy to gif der small pox to Miss Scutter; unt if dat vrow is Miss Scutter, I bromised to gif her ter small pox." It was _Miss_ Scudder, and I explained to her that it was a _small box_ he had for her. The affair was soon settled as regarded its delivery, but not as regards the laughter and shouts of the occupants of the old stage-coach as we rolled away from Jericho. The driver joined in, although he had no earthly idea as to its cause, and added not a little to it by saying, in a triumphant tone of voice,-- "I vos pound to gif ter olt voomans ter small pox!" WALK BY WILLIAM DEVERE Up the dusty road from Denver town To where the mines their treasures hide, The road is long, and many miles, The golden styre and town divide. Along this road one summer's day, There toiled a tired man, Begrimed with dust, the weary way He cussed, as some folks can. The stranger hailed a passing team That slowly dragged its load along; His hail roused up the teamster old, And checked his merry song. "Say-y, stranger!" "Wal, whoap."