Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1893-05-07
MISS MALONEYS PUBLIC HOUSE,
BY BLANCHE

ing and abusing the men who treated
them, or refused TO do so. She saw
weary-loOking women come In and try
TO get away their husbands; and hus-
bands dragging out their hali-drunken
wives. She noticed the men who were
regular customers, who huns ABOUT all
the evening, running up a score which
was only partly wiped out every Satur-
day; and, worst sight of all, she saw the
tawdrily-dressed. sometimes pretty, but
shameless-faced girls, who followed
them in, aud never shrank from drunken
lest or 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.
ayes, Miss" said the house agent
whom she went to consult. Its a very
good corner house, and will fetch a fair
price. The license can no doubt be
transferred TO a purpose, and"
"But," interrupted Mary, II will not
sell it for a public house. That is not
what l mean; l might as well keep 1t on
myself as do that"
I'm that case you will have 10 keep
it. Miss, I'm afraid. There isn't an
other business the ne~ighborhood could
support, and no one would buy 1t, e1-
cept for a pub" said the agent.
And Mary saw that be was right, and
went back and began TO think. All
sorts of thoughts came into her brain,
and the burden Of the worlds sorrow
and sin, ana the enthusiasm Of human
.isy, gradually took possession Of her.
This low public house, which she had
heard called the curse of the neighbor-
hood, was her sole Inheritance from her
father. What il she could turn it into
q blessing?
She gathered together all the books
she could find on the temperance ques-
ton, and began to study the various
methods adopted in dealing with il. For
three days she poured over them, like
Don Quixote over his books of %chivalry,
At the end of that time she flung them
aside.
~ shall do nothing if l waste my time
seeing what other people do" she said;
''Ill just try a little common sense"
First she called the barman.
II mean to keep this house on my
self" she said, land will keep you, too,
II you will do exactly as | wish. To be-
gin with, / will sell nothing but pure
beer aud spirits"
He shook his head mournfullY.
II knew you wasn't the right sort to
make il pay, Miss. I'll do anything in
reason to please you, but"
81 know you WILL" she said with a
smile which made the man her devoted
slave forever. ut is only because you
know no better that you sell these poor
people such poisonous rubbish. Then,
you must never have any dealings with
children; thirdly, you must absolutely
refuse TO supply any man or woman
with drink who has already had too
much. And you a leave the rest to
me-"
But you will be bankrupt in a month,
Miss"
Nonsense; I have few expenses here;
you know that the profits are enor-
nous, and l only want to pay my way,
not to make a forsune out OF these
people"
The barman scratched his head, shook
it more %mournfully than ever, but said
no more.
Then Miss Maloney made a few other
changes. She frightened up her dingy
bar parlor; made ocOa and coffee there,
and had a supply OF wholesome food for
any customers who would have it. She
provided also a supply Of wholesome
literature; but few Of her customers
cared for that, except sometimes the
younger ones. Nevertheless, Mary
found that the set OF men who had got
into the habit Of spending their even
ings at "Maloney'S" still came, and
sometimes one would read the news
paper aloud 10 a select few, and often
weary workers would creep into the
warm, cheerful room and sleep until
they were turned out at closing time.
They want something more rousing
than books, said Mary, at last, and she
sent for her piano and told the barman
70 find her a good singer. When he was
found Mary played while he sang, and
the men aud women came in numbers TO
listen TO his fine old sea songs and plain
tive ballads, and Mary grew more and
more determined to keep on her public
house.
The vicar Of st. Matthias-in-the-
Fields was speeding along the streets
not far from Maloney's in passionate
haste. The Fields. as the title Of
the parish, was only a pathetic
remembrance Of the days when green
meadows and golden grain were to be
seen instead of sQualid courts and dingy
blocks Of buildings. A population Of
ignorant and unusually vicious human
creatures crowded the wretched dwell
ings, and an almost hopeless mass of
poverty and wretchednesS weltered and
suffered around st. Matthias-in-the-
Fields. 1t was the lot OF the vicar to
live in this scene of wretchedness; to
combat the vice and ignorance, and dis
pei, so far as in him lay, the gross dark
ness. And zealOusly-if sometimes with
the zeal that lacketh knowledge-he
threw himself into his work. He held
advanced and rigid views on Church
matters, advocated the celibacy Of the
priesthood, loved a florid ritual, and
personally drilled his choir, His church
was crowded on Sundays-not by the
people who lived in his parish, but by a
fashionable congregation, attracted by
the fine music, the eloquent preaching,
the well-known saintliness of the vlcaI,
and, perhaps, in the case OF fair de-
voices by sanity admiration OF the cell
bate priest.
The Rev. Algernon Lamote was Of
high birth and had ample means. He
was a tall, handsome man; he had a