_Louisa_. Oh, yes; she showed us one: it was suspended on the very point
of a twig. She says, they adopt this plan to secure them from the
attacks of the monkey and the snake. They form them in the shape of a
hen's egg, cut in half. The eggs are not bigger than a pea, of a clear
white, with a few yellow specks here and there. I wish I had some of
these pretty little creatures; but Mrs. Horton says they will not live
in England, it is so much colder than the tropical climates.

_Ferdinand_. What little feet the Chinese women have, mamma! We saw one
of their shoes, and I am sure it was not a bit bigger than little
Sophy's.

_Emily_. But you know, Ferdinand, _that_ is not the natural size of the
Chinese ladies' feet: they are confined, while they are babies, with
very tight bandages, which prevent them from growing.

_Louisa._ I am glad I am not a Chinese little girl. Such small feet
cannot be very useful to them when they grow up to be women, I think.

_Mrs. B._ Indeed, they are not: The poor things are perfect cripples,
and are obliged to be carried wherever they go.

_Ferdinand._ Oh, how I pity them! They can never run about and enjoy
themselves while they are little, as we do, Louisa.

_Mrs. B._ Indeed, my dear Ferdinand, an English child has great cause
for thankfulness, on many accounts. I know of no country where the real
happiness and welfare of children is so carefully studied.