Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1893-05-07

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Miss Maloney, as she sat In the bar par
lor Of a low public house, felt that this
WAS sadly true In her case. She knew
that her and her surroundings were In
congruous. She knew that she could
ever learn to correspond with her en-
yklronment. For she was young and
\ PRETTY, and loved purity and rehne-
ment. When, distracted by troubled
] thoughts. she looked up from the vol
ume Of Matthew ArnOld's essays which
she was trying to read, her eyes dropped
again quickly, and IN expression or DIS
gust gathered on her pale face. For
she saw q dull, dirty room, square and
ugly. Black horsehair-cOvered chairs
stood round a square table which was
Uttered wei with Sporting Chronicles
and Shipping GGzetteS-tOoacco ano
beer stained. There was a vulgarly-
colored wall paper. with publicans ad-
vertiSements adjoining IT, A smell OF
mingled tobacco and drink p~ermeated
the dingy place; sounds OF rough voices
and coarse words filed her ears, and all
the while her heart was aching for the
''sweetness and light" which had hith-
ertO Frightened her guarded life.
Only a few weeks before this Miss
Maloney's father had sat c%Ontentedly at
that table, his glass before him, his
Nyms. Bardolphs, and Pistols around
him. Then, what they called cornwall
ity had reigned in the o deserted par
lor. The table had been banged with
a~pplauding fists until the glasses
danced, at the conclusion OF song or
speech. The company had grinned and
roared over coarse iokef or the stories
of shady tricks on the turf or in the bill
lizard room. They had registered bets in
dirty, dog-eared books with earnest
solemnity; had backed horses and prize
fighters with all the enthusiasm which
Englishmen consecrate 10 sport, and
sometimes ended their "NOctes Ambro-
' siane" by a free fight, which in nowise
diminished their gOOdfellOwShip when
sobriety set in once mOre-Or at least
the Quasi-SobrietY which was the nor
NAL condition Of old Maloney and his
set.
The end 20 all this came suddenly.
MalOney's daughter arrived in time 20
spend a few hours by her fathers death
bed and TO comfort him with her minis
trationt and gentle words. She had
never been in his home before and had
never loved him so much as now, when
she Jaw from what he had shielded her.
1t had often troubled the girl that her
rough old father refused TO let her live
with him. But, bad as he had been be
had loved her too wFt to let her share
the hideous and hateful life which had
grown pleasant to him. All the better
side Of his nature showed itself In his
treatment of his only child. When his
pretty young wife, the daughter OF a
poor schoolmaster, died, he took his lit
tie Polly TO a widowed aunt OF her
mothers, and asked her TO take charge
of the child. make her a lady, like
yourself, ma'am," he said. "POlly will
have plenty Of money one of these days,
so spare 10 expense. vi ind the
. needful."
? He was as good as his word. he paid
royalty for little Polly, and often came
TO see his with her pockets stuffed with
sweetmeats and toys. But as the girl
grew up, she began to wish for more
from her father than playthings. She
wanted to love him and share his daily
life, and this be would not hear OF. She
.Akne~ nothing Of hin except as the gen.
eroHs eiver OF everything she wanted.
Her own life was peaceful and pure, and
Of his she was absolutely In the dark.
But Maloney did not succeed in max
Mas money as fast as he had hoped todo.
He spent q great deal on Polly. He
gave a large sum for the public house
OF which he was %tenent, and immediate
" afterward the neighbOrhOOd began to
''go down." for q Of the mysterious
reasons which now and then make
neighborhoods go up or down. His Gus
toners were not always profitable. He
encouraged a class OF sporting gentle
men, and gathered about him q set OF
betting and and prlze-fghting black
guards. who helped 70 get him into
many difficulties, but never saw any
need for helping TO get him out Of them.
SO that when Miss Maloney sat alone In
edinEy bar parlor, and tried In vain
fomforT herself by reading Matthew
holds Essays in Criticism" she
|ew that, far from having plenty OF
money" she had only a few shillings In
the world now that the funeral expenses
and her fathers debts were paid, and
that she inherited from him nothing but
this vile public house, with its bad
traditions and unSavOry nOtOriety.
At first, after her fathers death,
Mary Maloney had felt too deSolate and
TOO Mortified with all about her TO real
ize her position. She would not send
>4or her aunt 10 come 20 her; she could
mot bear the thought that anyone In her
old home should know where and how
her father had lived. So she bore the
wretchedness of IL all as best she could,
waiting impatiently until arrangements
could be made 70 take whatever money
was left and fly back to the happy Sc
curity OF her dear aunt's home. She In
tended to place a manager 10 the public
house; or, il that could not be done. to
find a tenant for u, who would take
over the stock and furniture; 10 a few
weeks more she hoped 10 be at liberty
10 turn over this dark page OF expe-
rience and forget all about it.
Forget it-yes, that would be very
Necessary, for Mary knew that she
Pcould never be happy again in the inno-
I cent life OF old unless she could forget
II. To go back to the quiet village
where she knew every face and the IN
~eventful history Of every person; TO.
spend her days once more in delightful
hours of study, and Of intellectual talk
with her aunt and her triendS-in music
and drawing and prettinesSeS OF all sorts;
to visit the sick old women and read the
Bible to them between gifts ofkhillingS
and packets of tea administered as
brides; to coddle the babies and teach
he rOsy-cheeked boys and girls in the
Sunday school; 10 cultivate her roses
and dress her garden and love the sweet
country lanes and the sunny fields with