Connecticut western news., 1873-01-03
A STORY OF A DRESs.COAT.

It was about eight o'clock on the evening of the thirtieth of December, and Spencer. Houston set himself earn estfy to work to finish the list of calls he intended to make the next day. He felt in quite happy mood, for to-mor. row was not only holiday when he ex. pected to see some very pleasant people and have Q very pleasant time, but he had reason to suppose that after the be- ginning of the year his salary would be raised, and his salary was one that would stand raising very well. In fact Spencer had never rolled in wealth. He was young; he worked hard, made but little money, and he had never, un- tll now, been able to afford himself the luxury of a dress-coat. We merely mention this fact to give an indication of the state of his finances. And here was another happiness in store for him. A dress-coat, ordered at the latest pos. sible moment (and yet at the earlist possible moment, looking at the matter Tn a pecnniary point of view, was to be ready for him at seven a. m, January the first. His. tailor had promised it, and his tailor was man of honesty and promphtude. There was no reason to doubt his keeping his word. He was a New Yorker, born and bred; he knew what dress-coat meant on the first ot January.
 Spencer had some trouble in making out his hst---more trouble than he had expected. There were some ladies with whom he had so slight an acquaintance, that he did not know whether he ought to call on them or not, and the settling of this important question took much thought and time. But his principal doubt and his greateet perple3ity were in regard to. the order of his calls. Which should be the place of honor in his list Should he call on Miss Astoria Won Wirt early in the day, or wait un- til the afternoon He was particularly anxious to make good impression upon her, and would she think more of him If he exhibited certain eagerness and came early in the day, or if he made his appearance late in the evening, appar- ently overborne with the obligations of an extensive acquaintance
 He had not settled this point. when the little four-dollar clock on the man. teEpiece struck eleven, and at that mo- ment steam fre-engine rushed clank- ing, clattering, and blazing past the house. Spencer jumped up and threw open the window just in time to see a hook-and-ladder truck whirl by, the horses galoping, and the man who steered the hind-wheels wildly endeav- oring to avoid & stationary hand-cart. There was great light in the air, sparks were flying; there was fire only a block or two up the street. Spencer rushed for his hat and coat, and was off in a minute. He ran up the street at the top of his speed, and in few mo- ments had arrived at the fire, or at least as near it as the police would let him go. It was ceftainly splendid sight. If 1t had been ship on fire at sea, with the donkey-engine out of order, the conhagrati0n could not have been more complete. Nothing on earth could save the building, which was nearly consum- ed before the engines arrived. The fact of the house being frame one had some connection with this result: and all that could be done by the fire de- pertinent was to pour streams of water on the adjoining buildings. Inside of the ill-fated tenement, the flames Ieaped. and twisted, and curled, and crackled. and the hissing steam arose in clouds wherever the water fell. In twenty minutes the fire had nearly burned itself out. Nothing was saved but the lives of the occupants, and three or four of these 2nfortunates stood on the oppo- site side of the street, mournfully gag ing on the ruins of their home.
 Spencer's heart was moved with pity, and he went over to speak to the poor people. A man in the group looked around at him as he approached.
 It was Mallory, his tailor
 Spencer's heart fell within him.
 Was---was that your house, MT. Mallory?'
 The man nodded his head. His heart was too full for words.
 "And was there nothing---nothing saved ?" asked Spencer.
 Mallory shook his head. "Not 8 thing" he whispered.
 Spencer stood by him in silence. An ominous chill spread itself over him. Directly, when the crowd had partially dispersed, he and Mallory went over and looked in upon the mass of embers. All was heat, and ashes, and coals, and smoke, and here and there a bit of charred and smoldering broadcloth.
 Spencer took Mallory by the hand, pressed 1t, and walked swiftly towards his home. Mallory ran after him, and took him by the arm.
 "I would have saved your coat, MT, Houston," he said, "but you see we were all took so suddint."
 Don't mention it!' said Spencer, and left him.
 It was of no use to work any longer that night at his list of calls. He had no money for another coat. It had been very hard to save enough to buy the cloth for that one, and Mallory had promised to wait month for the pay for the making of it. The only good coat he had belonged to business suit. It was blue diagonal" bound with braid, with fap-pockets and gutta- percha buttons. It was warm and very durable, but he couldn't make calls in 1t. So he put his list in the stove, and went to bed.
 It was bright, fine day, the first of January of that year, and as Spencer sat in his little room, after breakfast, and put his head out of the window and breathed the frosty, invigorating air, and looked up at the bright blue sky, with the sunlight playing on the slate roofs and tall chimneys of the opposite houses, he felt encouraged, revivified. =" I won't be cheated out of my hoi- day." he said; "I'l take & walk, and I'll make 8 call. I will go and see Aunty Waterbury. She won't mind a diagonal coat"
 And so it happened that about ten o'clock that morning Spencer sat in Aunt WaterbMy's little parlor. It was very small parlor, and there were geraniums Tn the window, and all the the little china figures on the mantle-piece, and all the temperance pictures and Prodi- gal Son prints on the walls, were cover- ed with gauge, to keep the flies off in summer, and the dust and smoke in winter. There was pleasant little fire in the grate, and there was big turkey tail fan behind brown -and-white china dog on the mantelpiece.
 Aunty Waterbury was at home, of course and she was so deliohtad to aaa