An incident will show what my brethren thought of my service to the poor. I was in the public library one day when the scribe of the ministerial association to which I belonged accosted me:
"Hello, Irvine!"
"Hello, C——! Splendid weather we're having, isn't it?"
"Splendid," replied C——; and in the same breath he said, "say, you don't come around to the association; do you want your name kept on the roll?"
I hesitated for a moment, then said: "Whatever would give you most pleasure, brother—leaving it on or taking it off—do that!"
That was all—not another word—he reported that I wanted my name removed, and that practically ended my ministerial standing in the Congregational ministry.
The Jewish Rabbi who had taken part in our opening service met me on the street one day.
"Dr. Smyth and I are coming to see you, Irvine," he said.
"I'll be mighty glad to see you both, Rabbi. What are you coming for?"
"Well, we think it's too bad that the labour gang use you as a sucker and we want to see if we can't get a place in some mission for you."