lty on the evidence of a soldier who
happened to be passing in the middle of the night near the house
in which the murder was committed. Attracted by a light which
gleamed through the lower part of the window, he approached it,
and through an opening between the shutter and the frame was able
to look into the room. There he saw a man in the act of lifting a
dead body from the floor, while his hands and clothes were
stained all over with blood. He hastened to give information of
what he had seen; MacLoughlin and his mother were apprehended,
and the former, having been identified by the soldier, was found
guilty. There was no evidence against the woman, and she was
consequently acquitted. MacLoughlin conducted himself throughout
the trial with determined calmness, and never could be induced to
acknowledge his guilt. The morning of his execution he had an
interview with his mother; none knew what passed between them,
but when they parted he was heard to say, "Mother, may God
forgive you!" The fate of this young man made a deep impression
on me, till time and passing events effaced the occurrence from
my mind. It was several years afterwards that I one day received
a letter from a lady (a very old and intimate acquaintance)
entreating that I would immediately hasten down to the assistance
of a Roman Catholic priest who was lying dangerously ill at her
house, and the symptoms of whose malady she described. Her
description left me doubtful whether the mind or the body of the
patient was affected. Being unable to leave Dublin, I wrote to
say that if the disease was bodily the case was hopeless, but if
mental I should recommend certain lenitives, for which I added a
prescription. The priest died, and shortly after his death the
lady confided to me an extraordinary and dreadful story. He had
been her confessor and intimate friend, and in moments of agony
and doubt produced by horrible recollections he had revealed to
her a secret which had been imparted to him in confession. He had
received the dying confession of MacLoughlin, who, as it turned
out, was not the murderer of his father-in-law, but had died to
save the life and honour of his mother, by whom the crime had
been really committed. She was a woman of violent passions; she
had quarrelled with her husband in the middle of the night, and
after throwing him from the bed had despatched him by repeated
blows. When she found he was dead she was seized with terror, and
hasten