i went with grandmother to-day on her weekly visit to the "home for incurable children." grandmother goes to carry her presents, and "to cheer up the little folk," she says; i went prompted by curiosity.

we were ushered in by a cheery, wholesome-looking maid who knew grandmother, and gave her the freedom of the house.

we first entered the ward where the older children were kept, and there grandmother distributed her books and pictures.

while she sat to rest i wandered from one cot to another, where white little faces looked up at me, pleasantly answering my questions, or volunteering information.

"i am a new patient," one midget said, with a placid air of importance.

"i'm goin' to have an operation to-morrow," said another exultingly.

"that's one blessed fact about children," said the attending nurse, "they never fret in anticipation. they look forward with positive pride to a new experience—even if it is an operation."

in one bright room three boys were playing a game of number-cards, one a hunchback, another with crippled lower limbs, and a third, seated on a long high bench, handling the cards with his toes, his arms and hands being useless.

the top part of the foot of the socks belonging to this last lad had been cut off, and he was picking the cards off the table with his bare toes; passing them from foot to foot, and replacing a certain card on the table, quite as expertly as another boy might do it with his fingers.

i walked into another room to see the little babies; blind, crooked-limbed, distorted, never going to be able to use their bodies properly.

"why does god leave them here?" i demanded of grandmother as soon as we had reached the open air again.

"perhaps," said grandmother quietly, "to give us the blessed privilege of acting the god toward them."

"christianity means brotherhood, pearl, dear," she added, after we had walked several yards in silence.

what a great country this america is! caring for its ailing and crippled in such a beautiful way!

"oh, china!" i cried, when i was all alone in my own room, "you would drown your blind, crooked-limbed, distorted babies, or throw them out on the hillsides to die! oh, china! china! would you could come over here and see how america treats her 'weak and wounded, sick and sore?' these are the words of a church hymn."

i said something to this effect the same evening to grandmother, and she replied:

"perhaps, my dear, it may be the duty of some of us to carry america to china."