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HYDE PARK
 

esty I joined only a small and quiet group; the speaker there was a hunch-backed youth with fine eyes, evidently a Polish Jew; after some considerable time I realized that his subject was merely schooling, and I passed over to a large crowd where an old gentleman in a top-hat was jumping about in a pulpit. I ascertained that he represented some Hyde Park Mission; he flung his hands about so much that I was afraid he would tumble over the hand-rail. At another crowd a middle aged lady was preaching; I am by no means opposed to feminine emancipation, but the female voice, you know—well, one simply cannot listen to it. As a public speaker woman has been handicapped by nature on account of her vocal organs. When a lady speechifies, I always have the feeling that I am a small boy and that my mamma is scolding me. Why this English lady with the pince-nez was scolding I did not properly comprehend; I only know that she was shouting to us that we should look into our hearts. At another crowd a Catholic was

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