These stormy scenes brought about a promise of Government aid; Mr. Bradlaugh failed to get any legal redress, as, indeed, he expected to fail, on the ground that the officials of the House were covered by the House’s order, but the Government promised to support his claim to his seat during the next session, and thus prevented the campaign against them on which we had resolved.  I had solely on my own responsibility organised a great band of people pledged to refrain from the use of all excisable articles after a certain date, and to withdraw all their moneys in the Savings Bank, thus seriously crippling the financial resources of the Government.  The response from the workers to my appeal to “Stop the supplies” was great and touching.  One man wrote that as he never drank nor smoked he would leave off tea; others that though tobacco was their one luxury, they would forego it; and so on.  Somewhat reluctantly, I asked the people to lay aside this formidable weapon, as “we have no right to embarrass the Government financially save when they refuse to do the first duty of a Government to maintain law.  They have now promised to do justice, and we must wait.”  Meanwhile the injuries inflicted on Mr. Bradlaugh, rupturing the sheaths of some of the muscles of the arm, laid him prostrate, and various small fights went on during the temporary truce in the great struggle.  I turned up in the House two or three times, haled thither, though not in person, by the people who kept Mr. Bradlaugh out, and a speech of mine became the subject of a question by Mr. Ritchie, while Sir Henry Tyler waged war on the science classes.  Another joy was added to life by the use of my name—­which by all these struggles had gained a marketable value—­as author of pamphlets I had never seen, and this forgery of my name by unscrupulous people in the colonies caused me a good deal of annoyance.  In the strengthening of the constitutional agitation in the country, the holding of an International Congress of Freethinkers in London, the studying and teaching of science, the delivering of courses of scientific lectures in the Hall of Science, a sharp correspondence with the Bishop of Manchester, who had libelled Secularists, and which led to a fiery pamphlet, “God’s Views on Marriage,” as retort—­in all these matters the autumn months sped rapidly away.  One incident of that autumn I record with regret.  I was misled by very partial knowledge of the nature of the experiments performed, and by my fear that if scientific men were forbidden to experiment on animals with drugs they would perforce experiment with them on the poor in hospitals, to write two articles, republished as a pamphlet, against Sir Eardley Wilmot’s Bill for the “Total Suppression of Vivisection.”  I limited my approval to highly skilled men engaged in original investigations, and took the representations made of the character of the experiments without sufficient care to verify them.  Hence the publication of the one thing I ever wrote for which I feel deep regret