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.”

“Rabbi, some of your rich Jews have been after you for appearing on our platform.  Come now, isn’t that so?”

“Well, it’s because they believe as I believe, that you are used as a sucker.”

“I don’t like your word, Rabbi; but there are fifty ministers in town.  If Capital has forty-nine suckers, why not let Labour have one?”

That made him rather furious and he said: 

“You remind me of Jesus, a fanatic.  He died at 33 when he might have lived to a good old age and done some good!”

“That,” I said, “is the highest compliment I have ever received.”  I bared my head at the word and then left him on the sidewalk.

The New Haven water company managed to get what was called an “eternal contract” passed through both chambers of the city government.  Only labouring people opposed it.  Naturally there was a strong suspicion of foul play.

[Illustration:  State Convention of the Socialist Party of Connecticut, May 31, 1906]

A year afterward a man came to me with a grip-sack full of documents.  He had been expert book-keeper for the water company, and knew the facts and figures for twenty-five years.

Among them were two cancelled checks—­one for a thousand, which was made out by and to the president, and dated the day a certain committee was to meet to go over the terms of the contract.  The other was made out to a shyster lawyer and was for fifteen thousand.  He expected to create a sensation.  The thing had worked on his conscience until it became unbearable.  He came to me because of what he had learned of me at the water company office.  It takes a civic conscience to deal with such a problem and New Haven had no such thing at that time.

He took the documents from one place to another—­to ministers, lawyers, judges, legislators, etc.  Nothing could be done.  They were all the personal friends of the officials.