fighter, a dialectical athlete revelling in the gaudium certaminis as a strong man rejoices to run a race. The young tiger had tasted blood. He refused to attend church during the interval of his suspension as a teacher, and soon began to spend his Sundays elsewhere and otherwise. The time (1849) was one of great religious and political ferment; and Bonner's Fields, near where the Consumption Hospital now stands, was the habitual resort of disputants of all kinds. Thither Bradlaugh repaired to mingle with youthful ardor in the fray,—at first on the orthodox Christian side, then as a deist, and ultimately as a full-fledged atheist or ne plus ultra infidel. How great a spark the rash, intolerant incumbent of St. Peter's had kindled! Mr. Bradlaugh's next step on the downward path was to become a teetotaller, and this brought matters to a crisis. At the instance of the reverend gentleman, Mr. Bradlaugh's employers gave him "three days to change his opinions, or lose his situation." He might have swallowed one at a time; but "beer and the Bible" made his gorge rise.
Rather than succumb, the poor boy elected to go out from his father's house a social outcast, and throw himself on the stony-hearted world. Whether pride or principle had most to do with this hegira, it might be hard to say; but, in any case, the die was irrevocably cast. He soon became known as a boy-preacher of the most audacious infidelity; but it did not pay. Unlike Spurgeon's godliness, Bradlaugh's ungodliness was by no means "great gain." In his seventeenth year he found himself reduced to such straits that he was compelled to enlist in the Seventh Dragoon Guards; and with this regiment he served for three years in Ireland, and
