expounded to his class, the five verses that had been committed to memory. Then followed another hymn, and another short prayer, being founded entirely on the five verses which had formed the subject for the day’s instruction. The whole was concluded with the singing of the Doxology. [Sidenote: _A Chicago Sunday School._] This Sunday-school was divided into three grades. First came the infants. They were placed in a large room behind the west-end gallery, and over the porch. None of them could read. Nothing was attempted in this department except awakening the moral sentiments, and teaching a few facts of Christian history, and if possible a little Christian doctrine. This was done by telling the children little stories. Three of these I heard. My friend, who was the chief doer of all that was done and taught on the occasion of my visit, told these infants, in a very effective manner, well adapted to their little understandings, how he had spent on himself, after a long and uncertain struggle (which he minutely described to them), the first ten cents he had ever possessed; and how ashamed he afterwards felt of himself. As soon as they can read, they are promoted into the second grade, which has its place in the gallery. After a time they are passed on to the third or highest grade, which has its place in the body of the church. It is believed that this Sunday-school organisation has already effected a great deal of good, by bringing all classes together, and by influencing, in a way nothing else could, the destitute, the ignorant, and the reckless. And still more abundant fruit is expected from it in the future. Who is there but will entertain bright hopes for America, where among the rural population the moral tone is sound and healthy, and in the cities there is so much zeal for doing good?