Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-04-18
Editorial from The Literary Digest of April 15th)
Sentenced To Die

CABLEGRAM from American Wornens Hos
ptal, Erivan: I'VE have eight hundred and hfty-two
in the hospital and children dying in all corners
of Erivan. All day long we can hear the walls and
groans of little children outside the Office buildings
hoping and will pick them up. 1t the sun
shines little while they quiet down; when it rains
they begin again. One day when the rain turned into
it awful to listen to them. The note OF ter
ror that came into the general wall was plainly per-
ceptible upstairs and I had the windows closed.
They well know what night in the snow would
mean to them. We picking them up as fast as
possible but is fatal to crowd them such point
that would lose those already in orphanage.
Erivan - that one-ti1me prosperous city of
Armenia not far from Mount Ararat famous, in days
of peace for the peach orchards and vegetable gar
dens that surrounded it every side. Walk through
it's streets today and here is what you will see:
"Children walking through the muddy cutters hunt
ing for bits OF peels apple anything
that resenbled food little boys and girls Sleep
ing in stables, with straw and manure spread over
their bodies to keep them from freezing death or,
in the early morning. deserted children lying in the
doorways of the buildings wrapped in old burlap
bags some silent, perhaps already dead, others Sob
bing unconsciously in their sleep. They have been
placed there during the night by their mothers who
unable to feed them any longer, have resorted to
desertion final chance to their childrens
lives There is always chance that they will be
cued by the Americans, and it is with this one hope
that the mothers leave their little children, praying
to God that they will be saved by the kind and
generous Americans.
Has that story of unutterable suffering of pas
slonate love and gratitude for what has been given
that trusting prayerful appeal for of children
whose lives now depend us-has it all grown
wearisor1e to us? Are we tired of being kind and
generous? Is there no longer any sacrifcal tender
ness for little children in hearts? Is it time to
be rid OF the burden, to stop giving, and so,
through the Board of Trustees of the Near East
Relief WhO must act dictate to pronounce the
sentence of death on these thousands of boys and
girls who have believed to the last moment that we
would save them?
Mothers and fathers of America, it is not true!
You will not allow it Your hearts have not turned
to stone! What are few patry miles of distance!
They cannot separate you from that famine e-strcken
land where dead and dying children litter the citv
streets. They cannot shut out from your vision
those hungerpinched faces and outstretcted hands!
You can shut your windows, as they did, in verv
DESPERATION in the City of Ervan; but the walls and
means OF little children, waiting in rain and snow by
day and night to be picked up and clothed and hi,
cannot be shut out of your heart.
From far-away stations, by the magic of science
our homes are being filled with song and story and
music tor the dance. But there are messages more
Wondertul than any controlled by the wizards of
wireless. They are coming from far away, and
the story they bring is burdened with tears The
music IS not tor dancing, for those who make it can
scarce stand upon their feet. The song sweled to
chorus OF woe by thousands of little voices that
ought to be musical with laughter is always the
same: "Hunger!-Bread!" And with the nlead;ro
cry OF the children there comes voice. sweet and
solemn saying: "These are MY little ones: We are
MY Shepherds; Feed MY Lambs"
., TO catch these messages, every American heart
tnat mas thrilled at the laughter of little child or