, and occasionally we filled the structure by
serving out refreshments to the lodging-house men of the Bowery. I had
an opportunity to touch the social needs of the community by
cooeperating with the University Settlement which was then in its
infancy. I opened the church edifice for their lecture course which
included Henry George, Father McGlyn, Thaddeus B. Wakeman, Daniel de
Leon, Charles B. Spahr, and W.J. Sullivan. Sixteen years ago these men
were the moving spirits in their respective lines in New York City.
The New York Presbytery was not altogether pleased by this new
departure in church work; but we had the lectures first, and asked
permission afterward. Most of these men filled the church to
overflowing. In the case of Father McGlyn, hundreds had to be turned
away.

As I sat beside Father McGlyn in the pulpit, I said, "Father, how do
you stand with the Pope, these days? What is the status of the case?"

"Well, Irvine," he said, "I can best explain it by a dream that I had
some time ago. I dreamed that a young priest visited me with the
intention of getting me to recant. 'McGlyn,' he said, 'if you don't
recant, you'll be damned!' And I thought for a minute or two and then
gave the only answer that a man with a conscience could give: 'Well,
brother, I'll be damned if I do!'"

I found myself drifting quietly out of old methods of church work, and
attempting, at least, to apply religion to the conditions around
me. Every aspect of social life was in need of remedial treatment. Of
course, I did not neglect the religious teaching, but what the
situation demanded was ethical teaching, and, without making any
splurge about my change of view, I worked at whatever my hand found to
do in that immediate neighbourhood.

[Illustration: Alexander Irvine.
From a sketch by Juliet Thompson]

The push-cart men and organ-grinders were terrorized by the policemen.
I hired an organ-grinder one summer afternoon to play for several
hours, so that the children of the neighbourhood might have a dance on
the street. It was a joy to my soul to see these little bits of
half-naked humanity dancing by the hundreds on the streets and
sidewalks, most of them barefooted, hatless and coatless. It was on
one of these occasions that I discovered the petty graft exercised on
the organ-grinders. The push-cart men all paid toll to the policeman
on the beat, and the captain of the precinct winked at it. The
officers of the precinct looked upon