know there were so many people in the world."

"And what you see, just a drop in the ocean of humanity. There are
miles and miles of these tenements in New York--square mile after
square mile, packed from cellar to attic. We have a million and a
half crowded behind these grim walls on this island alone."

"Surely not all so ugly and wretched as these?"

"Many worse. But don't let the outside deceive you. Back of
these nightmares of scorched mud, festooned with shabby clothes,
are thousands of brave loving men and women, living their lives
cheerfully, not asking us for pity. Even in this squalor grow
beautiful, innocent girls like flowers in a muck-heap. When I see
these children growing up thus into fair men and women with such
sur-roundings, I know that every babe is born a child of God, not
of the devil."

They climbed a dark stairway and knocked at the back door of a
double-decker tenement.

A stout woman opened it, and they entered the tiny kitchen, so
small that the table had to be pushed against the wall to pass it
and the family of six could not all eat at one time because the
table could not be pulled out into the room.

"How is John this afternoon, Mrs. McDonald?"

"We don't know, sir. The doctor's in there now. If he dies, God
knows what we will do; and if he lives, a cripple, it'll be worse."