Dies ere he knows it.
That low man goes on adding one to one,
His hundred's soon hit;
This high man, aiming at a million,
Misses an unit."

The most powerful speaker I ever heard was Charles Bradlaugh. I
attended one of his lectures one Sunday afternoon in a large
auditorium in Portsmouth. I shall never forget that wonderful voice
as it thrilled an audience of four thousand people. Bradlaugh was
engaged in one of his favourite themes, demolishing God and the
theologians. It was the most daring thing I had ever heard, and my
mind and soul were in revolt. When the time for questions came, I
pushed my way to the front, was recognized by the chairman, and
mounted the platform. My lips were parched and I could scarcely utter
a word. The big man with the homely face saw my embarrassment, and
said, "Take your time, my boy; don't be in a hurry."

He had been a soldier himself, and, I supposed, as I stood there in my
scarlet tunic, Glengarry cap in hand, Bradlaugh became reminiscent.

When I got command of my voice, I said: "I want to ask Mr. Bradlaugh a
question. I have very little education and little opportunity to get
more, but I have a peace in my heart; I call it 'Belief in God.' I
don't know what else to call it and I want to ask Mr. Bradlaugh
whether he is willing to take that away from me and deprive me of the
biggest pleasure in my life, and leave nothing in its place?"

He rose from his chair, came forward, laid his hand on my shoulder,
and amid a most impressive silence, said: