"No, my lad, Charles Bradlaugh will be the last man on the face of the
earth to take a pleasure from a soldier boy, even though it be a
'belief in God!'"

The crowd wildly cheered, and I went out grateful and strengthened.
This incident had a very unusual effect upon me--an intense desire to
tell others of that belief possessed me. I was already doing this in a
small way, but I became bolder and sought larger opportunities.

About ten days later I was ordered to London as the personal bearer of
a Government dispatch. I made requisition for seven days' leave of
absence. My mission was to the Horse Guards, and after its
accomplishment I went to Whitechapel and rented a small room for a
week. I had with me a suit of plain clothes that I wore during the
daytime, but the scarlet uniform was conspicuous and soldier
Evangelists very rare, so in the mission halls and on the street
corners with the Salvation Army and other open-air preachers, I
exercised my one talent, and told the story of what I had now found a
name for--my conversion.

In the daytime I talked to costermongers, street venders, the
unemployed, and the corner loafers. One night I put my plain clothes
on and spent the night with the "wharf rats" on the banks of the
Thames.

For seven days and for seven nights I continuously told that simple
story--told it in few words, closing always with an appeal for a
change of life. I had spoken to the officer of the Horse Guards with
whom I had business of my intention, and he told me of a brother