Irvine

“ It is only in the fastnesses of nature, forests, mountains, and the back of man’s beyond, that a creature endowed with five senses can grow up into the perfection of this crass and earthy vanity. In towns or the busier country sides, he is roughly reminded of other men’s existence; and if he learns no more, he learns at least to fear contempt. But Irvine had come scatheless through life, conscious only of himself, of his great strength and intelligence ”

“ William Irvine, born near Enniskillen, Ireland, on the 3d of November, 1741, was educated at Trinity College, Dublin. Though preferring a military career, he adopted the medical profession to gratify the wishes of his parents. During the latter part of the Seven Years War between England and France, he served as surgeon on board a British man-of-war, and shortly before the restoration of peace, he resigned his commission, and coming to America in 1764, settled at Carlisle, Pennsylvania, where he soon acquired a great reputation and a large practice. ”

“ People under exercise and soul-concern came from every place about Irvine and attended upon his sermons, and the most eminent and serious Christians from all corners of the church came and joined him at his communions, which were indeed times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.’27 ‘Yea, not a few came from distant places and settled at Irvine, that they might be under the drop of his ministry. ”

“ He's got more steam in his elbow than you have."
That was all I heard, but as I was looking over the side a minute or two later, a hand was laid on my shoulder. I looked around. It was the man who had threatened me.
"Say, pal," he said, "I didn't mean no 'arm. These 'ere blokes tell me as yer name's Irvine. Is that so?" I nodded an assent. "Did yer ever 'ave a chum 'oose name was Creedan?" ”

“ Irvine practised as a portrait-painter for some years at Arbroath, and then removed to Montrose. After a period of hard struggle he became recognised as one of the best portrait-painters in Scotland, and received numerous commissions. ”

“ Irvine paid for my lodging and meals for a week at 105 Bowery. I thought he was great; I'd never run up against anything like him. He said, "We must get you a job of some kind, and that quick. Will you work?" ”

“ His wife, before her marriage, had been a trained nurse, and in her professional life had nursed the wife of a bank president, who was a director in the gun company. One day these ladies met, and the lady of the bank said she would find out why the husband of her former nurse was discharged. The director got at the facts, and gave them to his wife, sub rosa: "He belongs to Irvine's church—and Irvine is an anarchist." The young man got another job in another city. After a few discharges of that kind, men who did not want to leave the city got scared and gave me a wide berth. ”

“ Anna asked.
"Plenty ov childther on th' road t' clane teeth, an' dogs an' cats on th' road t' good livin'."
"What haave ye fur me, Mary?" Jamie Irvine, Anna's friend, asked. She took his cup, gave it a shake, looked wise and said: "Begorra, I see a big cup, me bhoy—it's a cup o' grief I'm thinkin' it is."
"Oul Mary was jist bletherin'," he said, [Pg 9] as they walked down the road in the gloaming, hand in hand.
"A cup of sorrow isn't so bad, Jamie, when there's two to drink it," Anna said. ”

“ His physical strength was wonderful; and to have a woman stand by and admire his achievements, warmed his heart like sunshine. Yet he was as cowardly as he was powerful, and felt no shame in owning to the weakness. Something was once wanted from the crazy platform over the shaft, and he at once refused to venture there—“did not like,” as he said, “foolin’ round them kind o’ places,” and let my wife go instead of him, looking on with a grin. Vanity, where it rules, is usually more heroic; but Irvine steadily approved himself, and expected others to approve him ”

“ Allowed to return to Scotland, he was reduced to teaching in schools at Leith and Preston (Sibbald, Bibliotheca Scotica, MS. Adv. Lib. ap. Chambers) . About 1650 or 1651 Irvine resumed the profession to which he seems to have been bred, and became surgeon, and finally physician, at Edinburgh. He was present in the camp of Charles II in Athol in June 1651 (Preface to Anatomia Sambuci) . After the battle of Worcester he made his peace with the party in power, and was appointed about 1652 or 1653 surgeon to Monck's army in Scotland. ”

“ He hasn't got no religion, but he wants some. Ye'd better look him up." And he did. The Negro saloon-keeper informed him that being a saloon-keeper shut him and his family from the church.
"Now," he said, "I am going to get Jim, my barkeeper, to look after the joint while I take you home to talk to me and my family about God." So they entertained the tinker-preacher, and the diary is full of praise to God for his new-found friends. The Negro bought a dollar's worth of tracts, and persuaded the colporteur to spend the night with them. ”

“ CHAPTER X THE EMPTY CORNER
hen I walked into Pogue's entry about fifteen years later, it seemed like walking into another world—I was a foreigner.
"How quare ye spake!" Jamie said, and Mary added demurely:
"Is it quality ye are that ye spake like it?"
"No, faith, not at all," I said, "but it's the quality of America that makes me!"
"Think of that, now," she exclaimed.
The neighbors came, new neighbors—a new generation, to most of whom I was a tradition. Other boys and girls had left Antrim for America, scores of them in the course of the years. ”

“ He had been asked by the minister of his church to call on him; but his modesty prevented him until hunger forced him to change his mind. After starving for three days, he made up his mind to accept that invitation, and reveal his condition to the well-to-do minister of this well-to-do church. He was poorly clad. It was a very cold winter day. The streets were covered with slush and snow. On his way he met an old woman with a shawl around her, a bedraggled dress and wet feet.
"My good woman," said Dowling, "you must be very cold, indeed, in this condition." ”

“ My thick Irish brogue militated against my usefulness in the church, and in expressing myself with warmth, I usually made it worse. In the barrack-room, my brogue brought me several Irish nicknames which irritated me. They were names usually attached to the Roman Catholic Irish, and having been brought up in an Ulster community, where part of a boy's education is to hate Roman Catholics, I naturally resented these names. A Protestant Irishman will tolerate "Pat," but "Mick" will put him in a fighting attitude in a moment. ”

“ Putting his powerful body to the lever, he lifted the car almost alone. As he did so, his lamp came in contact with my hand. Unable to let go, I screamed to him to move. As he did so, he saw the seared flesh.
"Too bad! Too bad!" he said, as he dropped the truck. I gazed into his eyes.
"Look here!" I said, "if you will look as human as that again, you may burn the other hand!"
The human moles who empty these pockets of ore are inured. Life down there is normal to them. After a few years' work, the skin becomes calloused and tough. The hands become claws or talons—broken and disfigured. ”

“ Nothing in the life of the bunk-house was more noticeable than the way men of intelligence grouped themselves together. Besides the Judge, there were an ex-lawyer, an ex-soldier of Victoria and a German Graf. I named them the "Ex-Club." Every morning they separated as though forever. Every night they returned and looked at one another in surprise.
At election-time both political parties had access to the register, and every lodger was the recipient of two letters. Between elections a letter was always a matter of sensational interest ”

“ After her death, Dave remained at the church about a year; then he became my successor as missionary to the lodging houses on the Bowery, where he still works—a sort of humble doctor of the humanities; feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, comforting men in despair.
It seemed to me at that time that what a weak church like that most needed was a strong, powerful church to put its arms around it and give it support. I interviewed Dr. Parkhurst, as I was Chairman of a Committee of the City Vigilance League which he organized. ”

“ One Sunday evening after service, I dressed in the clothes of a labourer, took several men with me and went through the parish. The first place we entered was the East River Hotel, a few blocks from my church. We purchased whiskey at the bar. I did not drink the whiskey, for under oath I could not tell whether it was whiskey or not; but my companions were not so hampered. After paying for the liquor, we were invited upstairs, and there we saw one of the ghastliest, most inhuman sights that can be found anywhere on earth outside of Port Said. We counted forty women on the first floor. ”

“ He gathered himself together and hobbled out to a nearby German saloon. Next day came the first sign of surrender. He accepted a commission to take a census of the house. This at last helped to thaw him out, but it didn't last long.
His rheumatism prevented him from pushing his wheel through the streets and I secured him a corner in a locksmith's basement. He had not been there many weeks when he disappeared. The locksmith told a story which seemed incredible. He said the old Graf had sold his wheel and given the [131] proceeds to an Irishwoman to help defray the funeral expenses of her child. ”

“ I was so exhausted at the close of the day's work that I usually lay down in the corner without even washing. Sometimes I pulled myself together and went out into the village, praying as I went, that by some miracle or other I should find a teacher. Sometimes I made excursions into the city of Glasgow. One night I wandered accidentally into a mission in Possilpark, where a congregation of miners was listening to a tall, fine-looking young preacher. I had not sufficient energy to keep awake, so promptly went to sleep. ”

“ The lodgers were very much impressed. It was in the winter-time. The old man earned very little money at his new trade, but what he had he shared with his fellow-lodgers. The bouncer told me that the old tinker would buy a stale loaf for a few cents, [111] then in the dormitory he would make coffee in tomato cans and gather half a dozen of the hungriest around him, and share his meal with them—plain bread soaked in unsweetened coffee. Sometimes he would read a few verses of the Bible to them, and sometimes merely say in his clear Irish voice: "There, now, God bliss ye!" ”

“ One day 'e sez to me, sez 'e, 'Chum!'—well, say [161] boys, when I went out an' had a luk at meself, sez I, 'Ye dhirty loafer, if a man like dat calls y' "chum," why don't y' take a brace an' get on de dead level?' So I did an' I've been on de dead level ever since—ain't I, boss?"
I was able to place Dave as janitor of the church. After he had been there for a while and comfortably housed in the janitor's quarters in the basement, he thought it a propitious time to be reconciled to his wife; so we arranged to have Mary come down and inspect the place. ”

“ The only man now living of those bunk-house days is Thomas J. Callahan. He has been attached for many years to Yale University and doing the work of a janitor. Many Yale men will never forget how "Doc" cared for Dwight Hall. He is now in charge of Yale Hall. The circumstances under which I met Doc were rather peculiar.
"Say, bub," said Gar, the bouncer, to me one day, "what ungodly hour of the mornin' d'ye git up?" ”

“ He kept aloof from the crowd. He had no friends and would permit no one to establish any intercourse with him.
His valet informed an intimate friend that the Graf received a check from Germany every three months. While it lasted, it was the valet's duty to order, pay for, and keep a record of all food and refreshment. When the bouncer told me of these things, I tried very hard to persuade the Graf to dine at my house; but he declined without even the formality of thanks. After a few months, the revenue of the mysterious stranger dried up and "One-eyed Dutchy" was discharged. ”

“ The boys had a custom of taking a "shiverin' bite" when they went bathing. It was on a Sunday afternoon in July and quite a crowd sat around the hole. I neither needed nor wanted a bath—I wanted a bite. No one offered a share of his crust. A big boy named Healy was telling of his prowess as a fighter.
"I'll fight ye fur a penny!" said I.
"Where's yer penny?" said Healy.
"I'll get it th' morra."
A man seeing the difficulty and willing to invest in a scrap advanced the wager. I was utterly outclassed and beaten. ”

“ Two or three men had enough courage to get up early in the morning and see Tim off—they were sceptical about my intention.
The first thing that we did was to try the piano, soap and other factories on the West Side. From place to place we went, from Fourteenth to Fifty-ninth Street without success. Sometimes under pretence of business and by force of the power to express myself in good English, I gained an entrance to the superintendent; but I always failed to find a job. We crossed the city at Fifty-ninth Street and went down the East Side. Wherever men were working, we applied. ”

“ It was the kind of thing that appealed to the churches—rather graphic and striking; so, unconsciously we exploited him. We could have gotten a hundred dollars to help a man like this—whose life after all was past or nearly past—to one dollar we could get for the work of saving a boy from such a life!
Among the most interesting characters that I came in contact with in those days was Dave Ranney; he is now himself a missionary to the Bowery lodging houses. I was going across Chatham Square one night, when this man tapped me on the shoulder—"touched me"—he would call it. ”