great desire to improve his own culture by acquaintance with humanity,
and to improve humanity by acquaintance with himself. This view of life
and duty had been urged on him by his college "coach," philosopher, and
friend, Mr. Joseph Bielby. A man of some energy of character, Bielby had
made Maitland leave his desultory reading and dull hospitalities at St.
Gatien's and betake himself to practical philanthropy.

"You tell me you don't see much in life," Bielby had said. "Throw
yourself into the life of others, who have not much to live on."

Maitland made a few practical experiments in philanthropy at Oxford. He
once subsidized a number of glaziers out on strike, and thereon had
his own windows broken by conservative undergraduates. He urged on the
citizens the desirability of running a steam tramway for the people from
the station to Cowley, through Worcester, John's, Baliol, and Wadham
Gardens and Magdalene. His signature headed a petition in favor of
having three "devils," or steam-whoopers, yelling in different quarters
of the town between five and six o'clock every morning, that the
artisans might be awakened in time for the labors of the day.

As Maitland's schemes made more noise than progress at Oxford, Bielby
urged him to come out of his Alma Mater and practise benevolence in
town. He had a great scheme for building over Hyde Park, and creating a
Palace of Art in Poplar with the rents of the new streets. While pushing
this ingenious idea in the columns of the _Daily Trumpet_, Maitland
looked out for some humbler field of personal usefulness. The happy
notion of taking a philanthropic public-house occurred to him, and was
acted upon at the first opportunity. Maitland calculated that in his own
bar-room he could acquire an intimate knowledge of humanity in its least
sophisticated aspects. He would sell good beer, instead of drugged and
adulterated stuff He would raise the tone of his customers, while he
would insensibly gain some of their exuberant vitality. He would shake
off the prig (which he knew to be a strong element in his nature), and
would, at the same time, encourage temperance by providing good malt
liquor.

The scheme seemed feasible, and the next thing to do was to acquire
a tavern. Now, Maitland had been in the Oxford movement just when
aestheticism was fading out, like a lovely sun-stricken lily, while
philanthropy and political economy and Mr. Henry George were coming in,
like roaring lions.