r a person to profess Atheism before
being admitted to the Society. The answer appeared in the _National
Reformer_:--

"S.E.--To be a member of the National Secular Society it is only
necessary to be able honestly to accept the four principles, as given in
the _National Reformer_ of June 14th. This any person may do without
being required to avow himself an Atheist. Candidly, we can see no
logical resting-place between the entire acceptance of authority, as in
the Roman Catholic Church, and the most extreme nationalism. If, on again
looking to the Principles of the Society, you can accept them, we repeat
to you our invitation."

I sent my name in as an active member, and find it recorded in the
_National Reformer_ of August 9th. Having received an intimation that
Londoners could receive their certificates at the Hall of Science from
Mr. Bradlaugh on any Sunday evening, I betook myself thither, and it was
on the 2nd August, 1874, that I first set foot in a Freethought hall.

As I sat, much crushed, surveying the crowded audience with much interest
and longing to know which were members of the brotherhood I had entered,
a sudden roar of cheering startled me. I saw a tall figure passing
swiftly along and mounting the stairs, and the roar deepened and swelled
as he made a slight acknowledgment of the greeting and sat down. I
remember well my sensations as I looked at Charles Bradlaugh for the
first time. The grave, quiet, _strong_ look, as he sat facing the crowd,
impressed me strangely, and most of all was I surprised at the breadth of
forehead, the massive head, of the man I had heard described as a mere
ignorant demagogue.

The lecture was on "The ancestry and birth of Jesus", and was largely
devoted to tracing the resemblance between the Christ and Krishna myths.
As this ground was well-known to me, I was able to judge of the
lecturer's accuracy, and quickly found that his knowledge was as sound as
his language was splendid. I had never before heard eloquence, sarcasm,
fire, and passion brought to bear on the Christian superstition, nor had
I ever before felt the sway of the orator, nor the power that dwells in
spoken words.

After the lecture, Mr. Bradlaugh came down the Hall with some
certificates of membership of the National Secular Society in his hand,
and glancing round for their claimants caught, I suppose, some look of
expectancy in my face, for he paused and handed me mine, with a
questioning, "Mrs. Besan