Waterbury Democrat., 1901-10-07

woe betide the prisoners captured by l tue yeos!
 For them was hot times for an hon I est gosSOon,
 If missed by the judges he'd meet a l dragoon,
 And whether the sojers or judges gave sintince
 The divil much time was allowed for repintince.'
 Tn Coleraine market-place William
 Mckinley and three others were tried by drumhead courtmartial. Not even Zola's trial in France gives us an idrn of what the proceduce of Irish courts
 martial was in 179S. Of McKinley's trlul no record remains. Yet we'll enough we know how it must have
 fArcu. It was not long later, in trials supposed to be civil, the one man
 achieved fame by sentencing twelve
 men in one day in Kildare. William
 Mckinley, called, was confronted with his witnesses. They were the men in red coats, whose tongues burned with
 alien speech, who had taken the am- mun'tlon from DervOck and haled it's stoHt-hearted owner to such justice as
 tae wolves give the stricken deer. Wi
 nesses for the defense there were none, could be none. There was no defense.
 Ille facts were obvious Tn ten min- u.cs the prisoner was sentenced. The young lieutenant who acted as secre- taty jotted six lines of record. f1irted
 tie ink from his cleft quill pen to the ce5bie stones of the market place, and ti,e trial was over. Within the halr hour the verdict was carried out. With three others William Mckinley stood up facing the firing squad. One can Imagine the Scene-the cruel red lines or soldiers; behind them the glowering people: some fierce voice on the ou--
 skirts, It's owner out of sight, shouting out in Gaelic curses and cries of anger aSainSt the murderous red-coats and their callous officers Then the four men. their hands and legs tied, but no
 bandage hiding from their eyes the last sweet look at the blessed day.
 their backs braced to some bit of Bead
 Wall looking all about for the help tnas could not come. The firing squad
 of fifteen or twenty men, armed with flint-lock muskets, stood very near. looking with curious eyes, in which
 there, was little hint of kindly feeling upon the doomed victims. The mus kets, held at the shoulder with the eye giancing down the brown barrel were aimed at the condemned. So when
 the schooling bullet leaped across aud taught them whence they came it may De that because of the uncertain aim in the little group some muscle twitched, some tense form writhed stained with gushing blood. some low voice moaned for mercy. Then all was over. After that what happened?
 Who knows? What usually happened in such cases, no doubt-the family hurried from the old home, dispersed over the earth. Presently another name was known in local circles by tie added words, of Dervock.' The chil- drcn of happier time played about tho huge stone slab that bears the :n- isials of William Mckinley, or in riot glte chased each other up and down the long boreen and about the tall blackthorn hedge. The family disap- peared and were remembered only by the ssheannachie' of the remote dis trict. or by those others whose busi- ness led them to examine the records of tie church-until lately, when the old Mckinley home has become an oD- ject of more than local interest.
 sBut before the McKinleys of Der yock were scattered far, one sacred duty they performed. Home from Colerane they brought the broken body of the Irish patriot, ana buried it Ill the churchyard, where to this day the headstone over William McKinleys grave reminds the passers-by of the. stormy times in Ireland's history.s