There is something wonderful in her mild grasp of the hand, and in her earnest tones, “Come, let the Good Lord save you. He has saved others, and I know there is a chance for you.” “And He took him by the right hand and lifted him up.” Lifted him up! my brother! Churches Among the great institutions of Chicago is the church. No greater force for righteousness exists anywhere. The great, stately edifices are scattered over the entire city; from the business center back to the grand trees of the suburbs. Their tall spires point solemnly heavenward, as if to lift the soul above the vulgar worship of mammon, and at intervals the sweet tones of chimes come floating down into the streets, telling that wealth is not all, folly is not all, business is not all! but that there is something purer, nobler, waiting high above the golden cross which the sunlight bathes so lovingly. The music at the fashionable churches is superb. The organist is a professor of reputation, and the choir is made up of singers of some note who devote themselves to concerts and public amusements on secular days. Not many years ago the tenor of one of the best choirs in the city was also the popular singer in a State street “Free and Easy.” He had a magnificent voice, and his secular engagements were constant and profitable; often keeping him in the concert hall all through Saturday night, and until the small hours of Sunday morning. The tenor unfortunately had a weakness for his glass, and it was a constant wonder to his friends that he contrived to get his head clear enough by church time on Sunday morning to take his place in the choir of St. —— church. For a long while, however, he managed to fill both engagements creditably, but at length misfortune overtook him. He had sung at the “Free and Easy” on Saturday night and had gotten through the morning service with credit. The eloquence of the preacher lulled him into a profound slumber, and all through the sermon he was dreaming of the concert hall and the jolly crowd assembled to hear him render his great song of “Muldoon.” The sermon over he was aroused from his slumber by a fellow member of the choir, who whispered that they were waiting for his solo. Still half asleep, and with his head yet full of the saloon and the applause awaiting him, he staggered to the choir rail, looking about him, broke out lustily: “Come and see me, I’ll trate ye decent, I’ll make ye drunk; I’ll fill yer can, Sure, when I walk the strate, Says each one I mate, There goes Muldoon; he’s a solid man.” The reader may picture to himself the sensation the tenor’s solo produced in the church.