AN ENGLISH EASTER 7
I down to Westminster Abbey on Good Friday afternoonwalked from across the Green Park and through St. James's Park. parks were densely filled with the populacethe elder people about the walks and the poor little smutty-faced children over the dark damp turf. When I reached the I found a dense group of people about the , but I squeezed my way through them and succeeded reaching the threshold. Beyond this it was impossible to , and I may add that it was not desirable. put my nose into the church and promptly withdrew . The crowd was terribly compact and, beneath the Gothic , the odor was not that of incense. I slowly myself, with that very modified sense of disappointment that feels in London at being crowded out of a . This is a frequent disappointment, for you very soon out that there are, selfishly speaking, too many people. life is cheap; your fellow-mortals are too plentiful. Wherever go you make the observation. Go to the theatre, a concert, to an exhibition, to a reception; you find that, before you arrive, there are people enough the field. You are a tight fit in your wherever you find it; you have too many companions competitors.
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