himself could not save Jerusalem. Can we save the cities of this
republic?

Yet our lads and lassies are eager to leave the country and go to
large cities, where gas-lit streets are thronged with humanity and
entertainments provided every hour.

A country boy said to me: "Mr. Bain, you go everywhere; you see
everything; I live out here in the country and see nothing." I have
tried it all. For about twenty-eight years I lived in the country.
Since then my life has been in cities and on railroad trains between
the oceans. My experience is, there is no life that keeps the heart so
pure and the mind so contented as life in the country.

Some years ago I gave two addresses at Ocean Grove, New Jersey, on
Saturday evening a popular lecture, and on Sunday an address to young
men. I had the popular lecture made but not the Sunday talk. For three
months I promised myself to get that lecture but kept on delaying. As
I neared the time I hoped something would prevent my going. The time
came, I was at Ocean Grove, knew I would have a great audience, for
the day was ideal, and still I did not have the lecture except in
skeleton form. After breakfast Sunday I began to walk the floor,
working out clothing for that skeleton and racking my brain for
climaxes. My wife was with me and she never would worry over my having
nothing to say. Into every sentence I would weave she would inject a
piece of her mind about home or children or some woman's dress or
bonnet. I said: "This is a trying time with me, won't you take a
stroll along the beach and let me be alone today?" Like a good wife
she gratified my request, and left me to work and worry over that
lecture. At four o'clock p.m., I could not see daylight, and in the