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. Besant?". Then he said that if I had any doubt at all
on the subject of Atheism, he would willingly discuss it with me, if I
would write making an appointment for that purpose. I made up my mind to
take advantage of the opportunity, and a day or two later saw me walking
down Commercial Road, looking for Turner Street.

My first conversation with Mr. Bradlaugh was brief, direct, and
satisfactory. We found that there was little real difference between our
theological views, and my dislike of the name "Atheist" arose from my
sharing in the vulgar error that the Atheist asserted, "There is no God".