Descriptive

Sanger paints us a picture—actually, more like a gallery—in this speech. First we get the image of "this old world of ours converted into a beautiful garden of children" (6).

Aww. That sounds really nice. (It also sounds really noisy and sticky.)

But wait a minute, because that's a mirage. What we actually have is something different. Our garden doesn't look like that. Our garden has a bunch of weeds:

Trainload after trainload of children coming in, day and night—nameless refugees arriving out of the Nowhere into the Here. (23)

Sanger asks us to picture "the filth and disorder of our overcrowded cities" (30) and to imagine what we can do to help. The only effective solution, she concludes is "prenatal care" (37) that will allow babies to "grow in a chemically healthy medium" (39).

(And yes; "chemically healthy medium" sounds sort of like the vats of goo that Keanu Reeves is hanging out in in The Matrix. But Sanger means it in a good way.)

With the assumption that the only way to make the world safe for children is to ensure that their parents are healthy and wealthy enough to care for them adequately, Sanger moves on to her description of the Bureau of the Unborn, where a baby interviews its potential father.

By the end of her speech, it's clear that Sanger is still looking for that garden, which she calls " a real Century of the Child—to usher in a Children's Era" (106).