The Real “Knick” - The New Yorker

The Real “Knick” - The New Yorker:



 "I climbed stair after stair, knocked on door after door, met drunk after drunk, filthy mother after filthy mother and met dying baby after dying baby. … There was no dodging the hopelessness of it all. It was an appalling summer, too, with an average of fifteen hundred babies dying each week in the city; lean, miserable, wailing little souls carried off wholesale by dysentery."







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