For the last ten months of my term Parson Plaford neither honoured nor dishonored my cell with his presence. Soon after I was domiciled in the A wing he called to see me. I rose from my stool and made him a satirical bow. This greeting, however, was too freezing for his effusiveness. Notwithstanding the opinion of us he had expressed to Mr. Ramsey, and with which I was of course unacquainted, he extended his hand as though he had known me for years. "Ah," he said, "this is a sorry sight. Your trouble is mental I know. I wish I could help you, but I cannot. You are here for breaking the law, you know." "Yes," I replied, "such as it is. But the law is broken every week. Millions of people abstain from attending church on Sunday, yet there is an unrepealed law which commands them to." "Yes, and I'd make them," was the fiery answer from the little man, as the bigot flamed in his eyes. "Come now," I said, "you couldn't if you tried." "Well," he said, "you've got to suffer. But even if you are a martyr, you don't suffer what _our_ martyrs did." "Perhaps not," I retorted, "but I suffer all your creed is able to inflict. Doesn't it occur to you as strange and monstrous that Christianity, which boasts so of its own martyrs, should in turn persecute all who differ from it? Suppose Freethought had the upper hand, and served you as you serve us: wouldn't you think it shameful?" "Of course," he blurted. Then, correcting himself, he added: "But you never will get the upper hand." "How do you know?" I asked. "Freethought _has_ the upper hand in France." "Yes," he replied, "but that is an infidel country. It will never be so here." "But suppose," I continued, "it _were_ so here, and we imprisoned you for deriding our opinions as you imprison us for deriding yours. Would you not say you were persecuted?" "Oh," he said, "that's a different thing." Mr. Bradlaugh was then mentioned. "By the way, you're remarkably like him," said the chaplain. I thought it a brilliant discovery, and still more so when I learned, a few minutes later, that he had not seen Mr. Bradlaugh for thirty years. Darwin was referred to next. "I suppose you know he's been disproved," said the chaplain, complacently. "No, I don't," I answered; "nor do I quite understand what you mean. _What_ has been disproved?" "Why," he said, "I mean that man isn't a monkey." "Indeed!" I rejoined; "I am not aware that Darwin ever said that man _is_ a monkey. Nor do I think so myself--except in some extreme cases." Whether this was construed as a personality or not I am unable to decide, but our interview soon terminated. Parson Plaford called on me two or three times during the next few weeks, promised me some good books to read as soon as the regulations permitted, and fulfilled his promise by never visiting me again.