In 1866 the _Contemporary Review_ announced that it would "represent the best minds of the time on all contemporary questions, free from narrowness, bigotry, and sectarianism." It professed "to represent those who are not afraid of modern thought, in its varied aspects and demands, and scorn to defend their faith by mere reticence, or by the artifices commonly acquiesced in." This manifesto of 1866 far surpassed in liberality any profession then known in the evangelical world. It was at the time a bold pronouncement. When it is considered that Samuel Morley was the most influential of the supporters of the _Contemporary_, it shows that intellectual Nonconformity was abreast of the age--as Nonconformity never was before. In 1877 I was taken by Thomas Woolner, the sculptor, to dine at Mr. Alfred Tennyson's (Lord Tennyson later). I believe my invitation was owing to Mrs. Tennyson's desire to make inquiries of me concerning the advantages of Co-operation in rural districts, in which, like the Countess of Warwick, she was interested. The Poet Laureate gave me a glass of sack, the royal beverage of poets, of more exquisite flavour than I had tasted before. I did not wonder that it was conducive to noble verse--where the faculty of it was present Mr. Knowles, now Sir James, founder of the _Nineteenth Century and After_, was of the party, and the new review--then projected--being mentioned, it came to pass that my name was put down among possible contributors. The _Nineteenth Century_ proposed to go further, and include a still wider range of subjects, with free discussion on personal responsibility. Its prospectus said "it would go on lines absolutely impartial and unsectarian." The Prefatory Poem, written by Tennyson twenty-seven years ago, which may not be in the memory of many now, was this:-- "Those that of late had fleeted far and fast, To touch all shores, now leaving to the skill Of others their old craft, seaworthy still, Have chartered this; where, mindful of the past, Our true co-mates regather round the mast; Of diverse tongues, but with a common will, Here in this roaming moor of daffodil And crocus, to put forth and brave the blast. For some, descending from the sacred peak Of hoar, high-templed Faith, have leagued again Their lot with ours to rove the world about, And some are wilder comrades, sworn to seek If any golden harbour be for men In seas of Death and sunless gulfs of Doubt."