New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1872-03-03
AN IRISH POISONER
OR. THE
.NYS RIOUS WARNING {.

About six years ago remarkable case
was tried at the criminal sessions IN the
county of Cork, in Ireland.
The writer wishes to pledge himself at
the outset to the literal authenticity OF the
narrative, which he heard from the lips OF
the late eminent Queens counsel, George
Bennett, at the time junior in the Muster
Court, and himself an eye witness and at
tentive listener at the the trial
On fine Summer evening, when the
rustic hour of supper was approaching,
there arrived at the door of a comfortably
matched cabin, of large dimensions, such as
the class of persons known in Ireland as
.strong farmers" usually inhabit stranger,
dressed in the then peasant costume, cor
duroy shorts, frieze coat caubeen and
| brogues, and with a black thorn stick IN his
hand. The wayfarcr entered, with the
usual salntation-"GOd save all here" ami
asked if this was not Dennis Macarthys
house. The women who were IN the cabln
told him it was, and invited him civilly to
sit down and take an air Of the fire" ana
with this invitation lie complied, entertain
ing his new acquaintance the while with
! such news as he had co lected while on his
| journey.
The man was DARK featured, of middle
| stature, and OF squar' and powerful build.
In little while, Dennis Mccarthy, re-
| turning from his fields, entered the cabin
door, and the stranger introduced himself
| as his cousin, Phil Ryan, from Cappagh-
more in the county of Limerick, and told
him what brought him to that distant part
| of the world. His business was to say GER
| tain prayers according to Irish usage, over
| the grave of d common kinsman of both,
| who had died two three weeks before,
| and was buried in the neighboring grave
| yard.
Mccarthy received his cousin (although
| he had never seen his face betOre) with the
| customary cordality of canship. and told
| him he must sup and sleep i'll his house
| that night, and eat his break
| fast there before setting out in the morning
| on his homeward journey.
| To all this the stranger consented. ana
| then, as he was unacq4inted with the stu
| alton of the graveyard, he asked Mccarthy.
| if it was not far OFF, to show him the way to
| it and point out the grave of their cousin.
Mccarthy readily consented, and, as the
| potatoes were not quite boiled, 1t was
| agreed that they should set out at once,
| and return in time for supper
| In the south OF Ireland, burial places,
| probably of remote antiquity, containing
| no vestige of sacred building, rudely
| fenced with loose stone wall, Hchen
| stained, and often partly OvergrOwn with
| ivy, with perhaps two or three hawthorns
| and an ancient ash-tree growing within
| them are freq uently to be met with. Pos
| were dedicated to the same funeral uses
| long before the dawn of Christianity broke.
| A wild aud narrow track, perhaps as an
cient as the place of sepultre itself, crossing
| at a short distance from Macarthy's cabin
| the comparatively modern road. leads over
| a little rising ground to the burial place,
| which lies in the lap OF a lonely hollow sell
dom disturbed by the sound of human tread
or voice, or rattle of car wheel.
! Mccarthy and the stranger walked up the
! ancient and silent by-road, until they
reached the hollow have mentioned. There,
under the shadow of an old twisted thorn
| tree, stile crosses the loose wall of the
| burial ground. At this stile they came to
| pause.
| "Go on" said Mccarthy.
go you first, replied the stranger.
go first YOURSELF said the farmer, a
! little perempturily. making stand. he did
not know why, upon the point of prece-
dence.
"Arra, man, go on, can't ye, and don't be
botherin; what are We ateared OF = insisted
| Ryan.
Now. I'll tell You what it is; don't un-
| derstand you, nor what you're at. but divil
| a foot I'll go over the wall till you go over
it first said Mccarthy, doggedly.
| The man laughed and looked angry.
"To be sure I'll 90 over it first, it that'll
please We. and what does it matter who's
! UISl OF W no last lie dH>NtIOu SuilHS
| but yous the biggest omadhoun | ever set
! eyes on.
And speaking to this effect, he
crossed the stile. followed by Mccarthy,
who pointed ont the grave, and forthwith
the stranger kneeled beside it, according to
Irish custom, and began to tell his beads
! and say his prayers-an observance which
usually lasts about quarter OF an hour.
| When the prayers were ended, the farmer
and Ryan, nov quite good friends again,
returned to the farmhouse. where the
stranger had his supper with the famll y,
and in the morning, after eating his break
! fast he took his leave and set out on his
hcmeward journey.
Irish ideas about hospitality in the peas
SAINT ranks make it matter OF obligation
upon the host to accompany his guest for a
part Of the way. Mccarthy, in compliance
with this courteous custom, set out with
| the stranger, and about mile from the
house they entered little village, where be
shook hands with his guest and babe him
| farewell.
But the visitor would not part without
testifying his gratitude according to the
custom OF the country, by treating his kins
man to some drink, which he insisted on
| doing in the village public house, the door
| Of which stood open close by them.
Mccarthy accordingly went in with him.
They sat down at Il table, and the stranger.
having ascertained what his companion
liked best, ordered pot of porter, making
| some excuse for not partaklng himself.
| When Mccarthy raised the pewter pot to
| his lips, sudden pain, which he aiterwdrd
described more particularly, i'll the back of
| his neck, compelled him to pat it down I'm
| tasted.
The stranger urged him to drink, and,
| without explaining the cause of his hesitt-
ton, he a secoud time raised the vessel to
his mouth. Precisely the same thing oc-
Cured again.
| Once more the stranger cXpOstulated and
| pressed him more vehemently to drink;
and again he tried it with exactly the same
! result.
What ais We F.! and why don't you drink
your liquor! Don't you like it p the
stranger demanded.
IL don't like it," answered Mccarthy, get
ting up, land l don't like you, nor your
ways, and, in Gods name, I'll have nothing
| more, good or bad, to say to you"
| TO the devil pitch you and it," said the
| stranger, breaking into undisguised fury
AT the same time, out of the open door, he
| flung the contents of the pewter pot upon
| the road.
Without another word, in this temper,
| the unknown cousin strobe out of the door,
and walked on his way, leaving the farmer
in state of perturbation and suspicion.
! Happening to look into the pewter pot
which had contained the porter Just throw n
out, he saw Il white sediment at the bottom
| Of it. He and the publican put their heads
| together over 1t, but could make nothing of
| this deposit.
| 1t SO happened, however, that the physi-
elan was i'll attendance at the dispcnsary,
only few yards away, and to linn they
submitted the white powder that lay iii the
| bottom OF the measure. 1t proved to De