The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1838-11-27 00:00:00

THE MURDERER.

(Abridged from the Leinster Express.)

About the latter end of the last century there lived in a
certain districtof an adjoining county, a young farmer named
William Magrath; he was an only child, and his paren ts,
who were both dead, left him in independent and comfort-
able circumstances. His family, at the time our tale opens,
consisted of his wife, a young and beautiful girl, to whom he
had been married but a few months ; his grandmother (his
father's mother), who was now of a great age; and an or-
phan idiot, whom his parents had reared from a child, and
whom they committed to the care of William on their death-
bed. His family, thus, was small, and his farm was large
and productive, and he lived-in comfort and affluence, and
promised himself much happiness in the society of his hand-
some and affectionate wife, to whom he had been ardently
attached fur many years previous to their marriage.
'Twas about the middle of December, in those gloomy
days for which this mouth is proverbial; the short Winter's
noon has drawn to a close, and the evening was setting in
drearily and darkly. William Magrath, and Margaret his
wife, after concluding the business of the day, sat down be-
fore the huge fire which gleamed hotly and brightly on the
wide and well-swept hearth, and whiled away the moments
in talking overmany of the scenes of those happy days when
they both " lov'd and were belov'd." Redmond the idiot,
or as he was more commonly called Reddy' was stretched
listlessly on a large bench or form in the chimney corner,
and opposite to him in the other corner was seated the old
" granny" on her straw boss whiffing her ditudren with all
the gusto of an Eastern epicurean.
" Granny," said William, " have you done smoking
" Why so, a hugur ?" demanded the " granny." "Till you
tell us a story to pass away the time," said William.
" Musha bud faix ids rneself that will tell you the wondher-
ful story sure enough, and one I think yez never heard
afore," said the old woman, and drawing the blackened and
cutty pipe from between her old yellow teeth, and spitting
into it to extinguish the fire, she asked,
" Did you ever hear the story ov the White Horse of Kil-
bawn ?"

No," said William.
" Well then vez wont be long so," and after hemming and
hawing some time, and emitting a deep sigh, she was about.
to commence her story, when their attention was arrested by
the trampling sound of a horse's footsteps approaching the
house.

" By gad," said William, lativhing," " I believe, granny,
von need not tell uz about the White Horse of Kilbawn, for
think he is corning to show himself to us."

" God forbid," said the old Sybil, " that would be the bad
luck day for you and yours iv he did."
A human voice was now heard outstde the door demanding
entrance.

William instantly arose and opened the door, and by the
ruddy blaze which the red turf lire emitted, perceived a tall
and dark-looking man mounted on a large and powerful look-
ing horse.
" Good night, friend," said William, courteously.
" Good night, sir," replied the stranger; " but as for me,
I have had rather a bad night of it."
. . __.....

" What's the matter wilh you, sir?" inquired William.
" I and my comrade," returned the stranger, " were pro-
ceeding to the next town; but stopping on the way, we hap-
pened to be benighted, and we fear have gone out of our road
completely. I have left my companion below at you grove,
whilst I came up here to enquire the way to our destination."
" I fear it's too late for you to go there to-night," said
William. " I can afford you accommodation for yourselves
and your horses to-night : it is rather homely to be sure; but,
such as it is, you are welcome to it if you accept of it."
" Your offer is very kind, sir," replied the horseman;
" but, it is necessary we should proceed; so I would thank
you if you would come out and guide us to the next cross
roads."

William good-naturedly took his hat and departed.
" I wonder, in the name of goodness," said Margaret,
" who must he be ?"

" The neara bit ov me can guess," said the old woman ;
" but whoever he is, he is not good, or he wouldn't be out in
a strange country so late. There's darkness and treachery
in his very tone, and I wish to God poor William was home
safe again."
Margaret trembled at the mysterious manner of the old
woman, and fervently responded " amen" to her ejaculation.
They continued a few moments silent, Reddy, the owed-
haul?, still snoring soundly.
At length Margaret broke silence, and said, " Granny,
you are good at interpreting dreams. I had a very queer one
last night, which frightened me very much, and 1 am not the
same yet."
" Let us hear id," said the old woman.
" I was dreaming that I was filling water at Tutbermore,
and that's most beautiful white bird flew over me, and began
to sing sweetly. I thought it flew round and round, and
seemed as if it wished to fly into my bosom: at last I saw
the waters of the well dashing and swelling violently with a
terrible noise, and then a hideous looking animal raised it-
self out of the water, and, opening its throat, fixed its fiery
eyes on the beautiful bird. I thought the bird immediately
flew into the monster's throat, and was swallowed up. I
thought then that the monster looked savagely at me, and
raising himself on his feet, vomited up a large quantity of
blood into my face, and besmeared all my clothes. I gave a
loud screech, and all vanished."
The old woman crossed her brow devoutly, and said, "God
brake misforthune afore uz : I am afraid of that dream."

Silence was again resumed, but was soon broken by the
old woman exclaiming,
" Lord have mercy on the sowls of the faithful departed."
"Amen," answered Margaret, sadly.
"A terrible death-bell in my right ear: some male person
belonging to the family will soon go," prognosticated the old
hag.
At this momet Reddy, the fool, who was still asleep on the
bench, started up with a wild shout, and vociferated,
" Where's William? Who kilt him? What happened him."

"Christ have mercy on us all," said the old woman in a
trembling tone; " 'teddy what's coming over ye at all, at all ?"
The idiot jumped about the floor, his eyes straining. in their
sockets, his long hair flowing loosely around his pallid face,
and waving his brawny arm over his head he sang in frantic
tones—

' William's dead and that's all,
William's kilt and that's all.
I see his blood
In crimson flood
Flow through my dream, and that's nil.'

The women were ready to expire with terror; they both
raised a loud and mournful cry, and the uproar brought in it
couple of neighbouring young; men who were passing.
" Lord save ua what ails ye at all at all," they inquired.
The women could make no reply, but Redmond again
fiercely chaunted in his mysterious and wild strain—

William's blood is on the ground,
William's blood is running round.
Beneath the red moon's rising beam,
William bleaches in the stream ;
I saw it all in my dark dream.'

" What does he mean ? What does he say ?" asked the
young men again.
At length the old woma❑ communicated her suspicious to
them, and they set forward to look for William.
The Winter's moon was just rising behind the hills at the
moment, and shedding a red and ghastly glare on all around.
They proceeded on to the grove but saw nothing; they lis-
tened, but could hear no sound but the rush of the night
breeze, as it swept with sad and fitful wail through the tall
and gloomy pines which composed the little grove. At length
they fancied they heard the sound of horses' footsteps at a
distance, but whether advancing or receding they could not
tell.

They listened agai❑ in silence, but the clatter was soon en.
tirely lost amid the general stillness of the night.

'friey were about to return, when they were joined by Red-
mond the idiot, who ran up to them and exclaimed—
" Are yez afraid of a dead man ? well, I'm not, and I'll not
leave poor William any longer bleaching in the cold stream ;"
and running towards a little dark river, which wound its tor-
tuous course around one angle of the grove, he beckoned at
the two young men to follow him.
On arriving at the brink of the stream, they were horrified
to perceive, by the light of the dusky moon, the form of
William Magrath extended lifeless among the flaggers, sedge,
and other aquatic plants, with which the murky stream was
overgrown. The two young men stood petrified on the bank,
and the oniedhazin seized the dead body by the arm, and
dragged it up at their feet on the grass.
They gazed on the face of the murdered man : it was all
over covered with clotted blood; and, on examining further,
they found his skull literally cloven in twain, with some
bludgeon or other rude weapon.
They now prepared to remove the remains of poor 'Wil-
liam to his house, from whence he so lately departed in per-
fect health and spirits.
It would be in vain to attempt a description of the scene
which presented itself as soon as the mournful procession ar•
rived at the house : as soon as the corpse was laid on the
floor, Redmond, the fool, uttered a loud and inhuman cry,
and again chaunted—

William, poor William, lost his life,
Because he wed a party wife,
Young Barny Hanrahan, he done it,
His hand has William's blood upon it.
William, poor William, he lost his life,
Because he married a handsome wife."
The village was now alarmed; it was yet early in the night,
and a great many people thronged to the house. Many
rumours were afloat as to the cause and probable author of
William's untimely fate. The general opinion was that
Barney Hanrahan was the murderer. Barney was a rich
youngiarmer of the next parish; he had seen and admired
Margaret Shehan, and asked her to marry him : but William
had gained an ascendancy over the fond heart of the lovely
girl. Barney's proffer was rejected, and from that day he
burned with revenge against the unoffending William. He
vowed vengeance, and was every day meditating how he
could best effect his horriu purpose. This was not unknown
to the village folk, and this circumstance, together with the
idiot's prophetic rhymings, confirmed the general opinion as
to Hanrahan's guilt.
A messenger was despatched to the next magistrate ; and
he proceeded with four mounted drogoons, which he had at
his house in consequence of the disturbed state of the times,
in pursuit of the murderer; some of Magrath's relatives ac-
companied them, and they arrived about midnight at the
dwelling of Hanrahan. He was sitting at the remains of an
expiring fire, in melancholy and uneasy mood. He heard
the approach of the pursuing party, and starting up got
through a big window, before they came up to the house.
Some of thein, however, perceived the fugitive murderer,
and a brisk chase immediately commenced. Hanrahan was
a powerful strong man, and ran swiftly towards a heath-clad
hill at some distance. The soldiers set spurs to their chargers,
and were quickly overtaking the run-away. On perceiving
this, he wheeled about towards a high wall of dry limestone,
which separated his farm from that of his next neighbour.
He sprang on the top of it like a deer, but as he was in the
act of making the bound, the foremost of the dragoons made
a stroke with his sword at his head, and severed the left ear
from the skull. Hanrahan, however, succeeded in fretting
clear of the wall, and continued his way to the mountain.
The soldiers' progress was effectually impeded by the magni-
tude of the barrier which lay before them; they dismounted
and set forward on foot, but in vain; the assassin gained
ground on them, and was quickly lost to them among the
brushwood and heather of the hill. He bent his way to the
cabin of a friend of his, and got his bleeding wound dressed
and bound up. He then departed on his journey of flight,
and was no more heard of.

We shall now return to the scene of death—the dwelling
of the murdered William Nlagi-ath. He was now " laid out,"
as they term it, and the house was thronged with his friends
and neighbours who had assembled at the "wake." Under
the canopy which was raised over the corpse, were seated in
rows the female relatives of the deceased, sometimes weeping
with every demonstration of unfeigned sorrow, now talking
and smoking their tobacco-pipes, and at intervals singing the
Caoine or death-song, in the Irish language.
Poor Magrath, after being "waked" during the customary
time, and with the customary honors, was conveyed to the
long home of his ancestors in the village churchyard. His
remains were attended to the grave by all the peasantry for
miles around; and on arriving at the churchyard, there could
not be less than sonic thousands of people present. The as-
sembly dispersed, and William Magrath and his melancholy
catastrophe were soon forgotten, or only rcrnembered amongst
his own family. Years rolled bye, and there was still no
tidings of the unfortunate Barney Hanrahan, and it wassup-
posed by many that he perished in sonic foreign clime.

'Twas on a fine sunny day in September, about twenty
years after the occurrence above related, that the gentleman
who headed the dragoons on their excursion in pursuit of
Hanrahan on the night of the murder, was travelling on a
hired jaunting-car through a distant and secluded district of
the County Mayo, in the "far West." The road was rough
and hilly, and the car was obliged to move slowly and cau-
tiously along. The gentleman amused himself reading a
book as they went along, and after some time, from the heat
of the day and the jogging of the car, he got drowsy, and let
the book fall front his hand. Looking up, he perceived a
man just near him breaking stones for the repair of the road.
He was seated under a kind of temporary shed, which he