I was privileged at this time to make the acquaintance of the Rev. Charles Kingsley and his generous-hearted wife. On our first meeting, at an evening party, Mr. Kingsley overwhelmed me by his enthusiastic greeting. ‘You are one of my heroes,’ he said—a speech which I really could not then understand; it seemed to stun me, in my quiet life. Later, as I learned to know his enthusiastic character and profound social insight, I knew his meaning. A sincere personal friendship was then begun. He supported me by constant and wise counsel until the time of his lamented death, which was indeed a severe personal loss. I was warmly welcomed to the Rectory of Eversley, and later to the Deanery of Chester. On the pleasant and historic pine hills of Bramshill, by the Eversley Parsonage, and on the ancient walls of Chester, with their noble outlook to the Welsh mountains, when visiting the Deanery, I enjoyed memorable walks with this generous-hearted man, when he threw open his delightful stores of natural history and strengthened me by his social wisdom. An amusing personal experience at the Bristol Congress was a ‘breakfast of all the religions,’ organised by my eccentric friend Herman Bicknell, and at which he insisted that I should help him preside. He said to me: ‘Holyoake is an Atheist, Cowell Stepney a Materialist, Baunerjé and Chatterjé are of the Hindoo Brahma Somaj, you are a Christian, and I am a Catholic. It will be a most remarkable gathering, and the discussion of such varied opinions extremely interesting.’ I accepted the queer invitation. The breakfast was held in a large parlour of the hotel. We assembled at table, and one of the first things the very deaf gentleman on my right hand said to me was: ‘What an extraordinary, odd notion that of a soul is! I wonder how it could have arisen.’ But the most interesting remark by far was made by Holyoake, who, returning from a secularist meeting of Bristol working men, was at once accosted by our host: ‘Now, Holyoake, pray let us have your famous demonstration of the non-existence of a God.’ Mr. Holyoake accepted the demand, and thought for some time in a profound silence; then, with a puzzled face, he suddenly burst out: ‘Upon my word, Bicknell, I have really quite forgotten it!’ Mr. Kingsley once said to me, pointing to Holyoake: ‘That man, many years ago, I put into prison for blasphemy; now I am begging him to come down and visit me at Eversley!’ Our breakfast of all the religions as an active contest was a failure. The hostile forces met together, but, instead of fighting, they fraternised! It was during this visit to Bristol in 1869 that the curious experience, already referred to on page 4, occurred, when I visited the house where my early childhood was spent.