Suppose we leave the tennis players and the millionaires and think for a little about the babies born to! western mothers in Shanghai. T have an impression that in a really civilized community half of the mothers in Shanghai would' be sent to prison for cruelty to children. Look at the little ones as you see them in our parks. A Chinese amah wheels them along in a pram. Te} a box—I had almost said, a coffin]—set on wheels. The little mite lies at the bottom' and looks up but] there is a shade over the top and he can only catch an occasional glimpse fof the sky from the floor of his prison. You mark his transparent, skin and the black border under his eyes and you may overhear the mothers say to each other "Aye, the summer is hard on the babies.'
But there is a beggar woman ing at the street corner who has baby sprawling on the mat in the' ladow of a wall. Look at that! by. Tt is fed on scraps and tumbles about in the dust, but it as brown as a berry and It is not shut away. the bottom of a box but its whole bod atmosphere and healthly brown and hardens. breeze comes the ski uekers up into gooseflesh and baby does not match cold and has no 1 swallow doses of cod liver oil.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.