ABSTRACT
One of the interesting things about the life of a child in China is the way it learns to talk. To learn to speak the Chinese language is, the author thinks, no more difficult than to learn any other language. A woman never reaches the acme of womanhood until she becomes the mother of a boy, which means, at least, if it means no more, that the Chinese child comes to a home where it is wanted, and will be appreciated. The presumption is that a Chinese child is born with the same general disposition as the European or American child. The most attractive thing about the early life of a Chinese child, as author thinks, is the nursery rhymes. A Chinese baby is a round-faced little piece of helpless humanity, whose eyes appear as if they were simply two black marbles over which the skin had been stretched and then a slit made on the bias.
