e now
rooting arter it, like pigs arter ground-nuts. Why, it is a perfect
money mania among everybody!"

And she shook her head doubtingly, as she pensively watched a small mug
of cider, with an apple in it, simmering by the winter fire. She was
somewhat fond of a drink made in this way.

MRS. PARTINGTON IN COURT

"I took my knitting-work and went up into the gallery," said Mrs.
Partington, the day after visiting one of the city courts; "I went up
into the gallery, and after I had adjusted my specs, I looked down into
the room, but I couldn't see any courting going on. An old gentleman
seemed to be asking a good many impertinent questions--just like some
old folks--and people were sitting around making minutes of the
conversation. I don't see how they made out what was said, for they all
told different stories. How much easier it would be to get along if they
were all made to tell the same story! What a sight of trouble it would
save the lawyers! The case, as they call it, was given to the jury, but
I couldn't see it, and a gentleman with a long pole was made to swear
that he'd keep an eye on 'em, and see that they didn't run away with it.
Bimeby in they came again, and they said somebody was guilty of
something, who had just said he was innocent, and didn't know nothing
about it no more than the little baby that had never subsistence. I come
away soon afterward; but I couldn't help thinking how trying it must be
to sit there all day, shut out from the blessed air!"

* * * * *

Apropos of Superintendent Andrews's reported objection to the singing of
the "Recessional" in the Chicago public schools on the ground that the
atheists might be offended, the _Chicago Post_ says:

For the benefit of our skittish friends, the atheists, and in order not
to deprive the public-school children of the literary beauties of
certain poems that may be classed by Doctor Andrews as "hymns," we
venture to suggest this compromise, taking a few lines in illustration
from our National anthem:

"Our fathers' God--assuming purely for the
sake of argument that there is a God--to Thee,
Author of liberty--with apologies to our friends,
the atheists--

To Thee I sing--but we needn't mean it, you
know.

Long may our land be bright,

With freedom's holy light;

Protect us by Thy might--remember, this is
purely hypothetical----

Great God--again assuming that