1882, when we were roaming the Law Courts
together, he tapped his chest as he coughed, and seeing my anxious
expression he told me that he brought up a good deal of phlegm in the
morning, and that strangers who heard him clearing his chest would
fancy he was very ill. But he looked so well that I soon dismissed the
unpleasant fact, though it returned before his breakdown when I saw
he was obliged to cancel engagements. I heard in 1884, though not from
himself, that he had some heart trouble. But I was far from prepared for
the shattering illness that laid him low in October, 1889.

When I called to see him after his partial recovery I was shocked by his
appearance. He looked twenty years older, grey, and infirm. I sat down
half-dazed. Theoretically I knew he was mortal, but I did not realise it
as a fact until I saw him thin and pale from the valley of the shadow of
death. His mind was clear enough, however; and although everything about
him was pathetic he was quite self-collected.

One thing he said to me I shall never forget. There had been talk of his
wavering in his Freethought, and as he referred to this folly he spoke
in grave impressive tones. Pointing to the humble bed, he said, "When
I lay there and all was black the thing that troubled me least was the
convictions of my life."

Words and accents were alike solemn. The cold shadow of death seemed to
linger in the room. A moment or two later he said with a broken voice,
"The Freethought party is a party that I love."

The memory of that interview will always be a precious possession. I
treasure it with the sacred things of my life. I had seen and touched
the naked sincerity of a great soul.

When Mr. Bradlaugh returned from India I called on him, and found him
greatly improved by his voyage. I waited for him a few minutes in his
library, as he was at lunch, and the doctors attached great importance
to regularity in his meals. He came into the room with a most genial
smile. His air was fresh and buoyant, and he walked over to me quickly,
holding out his hand all the way. I took it heartily, and had a good
look at him, which satisfied and yet dissatisfied me. He was certainly
better, but I could not help feeling that his constitution was
irrecoverably broken. Never again could I hope to see the grand
Bradlaugh of the old fighting days. His mind was as brave and alert as
ever, but the body was too obviously disabled.

He showed me some of his Indian present