New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1892-03-27
MISS MALONEY.

1t often happens in this world that a, square
peg finds itself In a round hole. Miss Maloncy,
as she sat in the bar parlor of a low publc-house,
felt that this sadly true in her case. she
knew that she and her surroundings were incon-
gruous. She knew that she could never learn TO
correspond with her environment. For she was
young and pretty, and loved purity and refine
ment. When, distracted by troubled thoughts,
she looked up from the volume of Matthew
Arnolds Essays, which she was trying to read, her
eyes dropped again quickly, and an expression OF
disgust gathered on her pale face For she saw
dull, dirty ROOM square and ugly. Black horse
haircovered chairs stood round square table
which Uttered over with Sporting Chronicles
and Shipping Gszettes-tobacco and beer stained.
There vulgary colored wall paper, with
pullicans advertisements adjoining IT, a smell
dingy place; sounds of rough voices and coarse
words filled her ears, and all the while her heart
was aching for the Sweetness and Light which
had hitherto frightened her guarded life.
Only few weeks before this. Miss Maloney'
father had sat contcntcdly at that table, his glass
before him, his Nyms, BardOlphs and Pistols
had rei0ned in the now deserted parlor. The
table had been banged with applouding fists until
the glasses danced at the conclusion OF song
or speech. The company had grinned and roared
over coarse jokes or the stories Of shady tricks
Oh the turf or in the billiard-room. They had
registered bets in dirty dog-earcd books VITA
earnest solemnity: had backed horses and prize
fighters with all the enthusiasm which English
men cOnsecrate to sport and sometimes ended
their "Noctes Ambrosianae" by free fight which
in nowise diminished their good-fellowshlp when
sobriety set in mOre-OT at least the quasi
sobriety which was the normal condition Of old
Maoney and his set.
The end TO all this came suddenly MalGney 5
daughter arrived in time TO spend few hours
by her fathers deathbed, and 10 comfort him
with her ministrations and gentle words. She
had never been in his home before, and had
never loved him so much as row, when she saw
from what he had shielded her. II had often
troubled the girl that her rough old father re-
fused to let her live with HIM. But bad as he
had been he had loved her too we'll to let her
share the hdeous and hateful life which la |
grown pleasant to him. All the better side of
his nature showed itself in his treatment of his
daughter of a poor schOolmastcr, died, he took
his little Polly to a widowed aunt of her mothers,
and asked her 10 take charge of the child, Make
her lady, like yourself. ina am, he sad
Polly will have plenty of money ore Of these
days. so spare no eXpens,. III find the needful.
He was as good as his word. He paid royalty
with his pockets stuffed with 'SweetmeatS and
toys. But as the girl grew up, she began 70
wish for more from her father than playthlngs
She wanted 10 love him, and share ms dalIy
life, and this he wouli not heai of. She knew
nothing Of him, except as the generous gINer OF
everything she wanted Her own life peace
full and pure, and Of his she was absolutely in
But Maloney did not succeed in making money
as fast as he had hoped to do. lie spent great
deal on Polly. He gave large sum for the
public-house OF which lie was tenant and inme-
tiately alterward the neigbborhood began 10
go down." for one of the mysterious reasons
which now and then make neighborhoods go up
OF down. His customers were not always pron'-
able. He encouraged class of sporting gentle,
prize-fg hting backguards, who helped to get him
into many difficulties, but never saw any need
for helping to get him out OF them a; 80 ' ha
paror, and tried in vain to comfort herself Dy
reading Matthew Arnold's Essays in Criticism,
she knew that far from having plenty OF money,
L. bol shi in filp
the funeral expenses and her fathers debts were
paid, and that she inherited from him nothing
but this vile public~house, win lis pau uauitioh'
and upsavory nOtOrlety.
At first, after her fathers death, Mary
Maloney had felt too desolate and too hor-
riied with all about her, to realize her position.
She would not send for her aunt 70 come 10 her
she could not bear the thought that any one III
her old home should know where and how her
father lived. So she bore the wretchedntss OF !,
all as best she could, waiting impatiently until
arrangements could he made to take whatever
money Was left, and fly hack 10 the happy secur-
ity Of her dear aunts home; She INTENDED IT,, 10
could not he done, TO find tenant for il, who
would take over the stock and furniture and in
few weeks more she hoped to be at liberty to
turn over this dark page of experience and for
get all about it.
Forget it-yes, that would be very necessary. for
Mary knew that she could never be happy again
it. To go back TO the quiet village where she
knew every face and the uneventiul history OF
lghtful hours of study, and of intellectual talk
with her aunt and her friends-n music. and
drawing and prettinesses OF all sorts to visit the
sick old women and read the Bible to them be-
tween gifts Of shlings and packets Of tea admin
istered as brides; to cOddle the babies, and teach
the rosy faced boys and girl in the Sunday-school
to cultivate her roses and dress her garden, and
love the sweet country lanes and the sunny fields
with d satisfaction which had given life hitherto
aa idyllic charm-this was what she meant TO do
and to f0rget-tO forget as a horrible. unreal
Northumberland days passed in what had been her
fathers home.
And yet, as Miss Maloney sat day after day in
the bar parlor and watched the new phase OF life
which ugly and revolving, she began TO see
that this too was real, and no nightmare. ugly as
it was, and to fear that she should never be able
to forget it. She watched. with a horrible fascpa-
ton, the succession of wretcbed and degraded
faces Of the men, women and children who passed
in and out Of her public house, leaving their
which was emptieJ at night into her pocket. She
watched while little children with white faces
and miserable rags for clothing reached mp TO the
barman cracked juge and cups TO be filled with
poisonous beer spirits she saw the women, old
and young bu. dr0ggled and dirty one and all.
s to seu d so the sss s wSG
women come in and try 70 get away their hus-
bands and husbands dragging out half-drunlyen
customers, who hung about all the evening, run
ming up a score which was only partly wiped out
every Saturday; and, worst Sight il all. she saw
the tawdrily dressed, sometimes pretty, but shame
iess-faced girls who followed them in, and never
ehrank from drunken Jest oath. And Mary
felt her cheeks burn and her heart grew heavier
Very soon the CONVICTION forced itself upon her
that she could not live by money made in such a
trade as this, and she determined TO sell the public
house outright.
"Yes. Mis-" said the house agent whom she
went to consult. it's very good corner house
and will fetch a fair price. The license Gan nc
doubt be transferred to purchaser, and
But" interrupted Mary, Il will not sell il
for q public-house. That is not what | mean:
might as well keep il on myself as do that"
"In that case You will have TO keep il, Miss
I'm afraid There isn't another business the
neighborhood could support, and no one would
buy IL except for pub" said the agent
And Mary saw that he was right, and went back
and began to think. All sorts OF thoughts came
into her brain, and the burden OF the world
sorrow and sin, and the enthusiasm of humanity
gradually took possession of her. This low pub
lic-house which she had heard called the cnrse OF