decided to follow Christ, and I still had the furnace job when I met
Mrs. Bainbridge.

She knew me by sight and asked me how I was getting on, and where was my
overcoat? I told her I was getting along all right, but I had no
overcoat. She said, "That's too bad! Come with me and we will see if
there's one in the Dorcas Room"--a place where clothes are kept that
good people send in for the poor who haven't so much. There were quite a
few coats there, any one of which would have suited me, but they didn't
please Mrs. Bainbridge. She said, "David, come into the office." She
gave me a letter to Rogers, Peet & Co., and told me to take it down
there and wait for an answer.

I went down and gave the letter to a clerk, and it was great to see him
eye me up. I didn't know then how the letter read, but have since
learned that the contents were as follows: "Give this man about the best
overcoat you have in the store." No wonder he looked me over!

We began trying on coats, found one that suited us, and he said, "You
might as well wear it home." "Not on your natural!" I said. "Put it in
paper or a box." I didn't think that coat was for me, for it was fifty
dollars if a cent. Picture me with twelve dollars per month and three
meals, and a fifty-dollar overcoat!

I went back to Mrs. Bainbridge, and she told me to try the coat on,
which I did. Then she said, "David, that coat is for you, but listen,
David; that coat is mine. Now I wouldn't go into a saloon, and I want
you to promise me that you will never enter a saloon while you wear it."
I promised, and that coat never went into a saloon, and I wore it for
five years. Then I sent it to old Ireland, to my wife's father, and