Page:Frank Owen - Rare Earth, 1931.djvu/207

 To me the Nanking Road represents life. Countless feet, patter of feet, walking, walking, hurrying, strolling, feet, feet, feet. Do you not hear the rhythm of the patter, the poetry of it? Where are all the countless hordes going? Merchants, coolies, Englishmen, Americans, bankers, Mandarins, all sorts and conditions of men, paupers, affluent landowners meeting in the melting-pot of China, stirred into one vast ribbon of