M'GEE'S TRAGIC END.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume X, Issue 510, 19 January 1883, Page 19

M'GEE'S TRAGIC END.

CWritten for the Detroit Evening News.") On the night of April 6, A.D. 1863, I retired to rest in my usual state of health, but quite fatigued by the labors of the day. I lived in Toronto, Ontario. 1 fell asleep and dreamed that I was in Ottawa, the capital of the Dominion, a city I had never visited in my life. There was no doubt as to the place, for Parliament was in session. I found myself in the spacious Chamber of the House of Commons. I listened with keen interest to a debate in which Sir John Macdonald, Alexander Mackenzie, Edward Blake, Thomas D 1 Arcy, McQee, the erstwhile Irish patriot and poet, lecturer, orator and statesman, and others took part. I was personally acquainted with several of the speakers and with many of the members, I sat in one of the galleries. I noticed the movements of distinguished men, how they were dressed; how they sat at their desks, what they were doing. Edward Blake Bat as still as a statue, with a rowdy hat on, drawn down in front so as to cover his eyes ; he looked like a rough farmer who had dropped in amongst Btrange company, afraid to move lest ha .should make a fool of himself. Sir John, between drinks, was alert and ■f igorous, moving about continually, chatting and laughing in low tone, apparently paying no attention to the debate in progress, but not a word escaped his notice, as I soon found out. When McQee got up to speak, I exclaimed, " What an ugly man 1 " and he certainly was homely at first glance. He was tall, stout, heavyahonldered, deep-chested. His complexion was dark ; his head large, solid-looking and compact, hair dark brown and curly, coming well down OTer the forehead and making it appear rather low. His nose was a trifle retrousse, but his lips were beautifully formed and sensitive. When he laughed, his keen, hazel gray eyes sparkled like gems. Sometimes when in the heat of eloquence, his rather heavy face would light up from within and glow in a wonderful way, as if the fires from his burning soul could be seen through the fleshy veih His presence was striking, almost noble, quite statesmanlike, parliamentary. He looked the orator and stateman, every inch, when speaking. One could not ignore that presence. One had to listen, but listening soon became a pleasure, then a matter of keen enjoyment, and soon one was carried away in raptures of enthusiasm. What a voice 1 The quality was simply exquisite, rich, clear, sweet, penetrating. The lowest tones were distinctly audible in every part of the chamber. On its upper crescendo flights that voice sounded like a great silver trumpet such as an angel fresh from the divine sources of power might blow. That voice had also marvellous depth — solemn and passionate depth of force and pathos too. His English was the best ever spoken by mortal man. His style was elegant, spirited, nervous ; he waa never undignified or colloquial ; always sustained, logical and correct. Constantly armed and ready at all points and wary, yet he was witty, ever ready for fun. His wit flashed all through his oratory, like the light of diamonds. No orator ever wielded a keener sword of sarcasm. He could cut and slash and slay with the mightiest of the giants. After scalping some mean foe, he would hold him up to ridicule in such a fashion as to compel the poor man to wish he had never been born. Poor McGee 1 What a splendid specimen of God's handiwork, and yet his life was almost a failure 1 I remember a few cf his words uttered during the debate. " The honorable member for— talks of bribery and corruption 1 Sacred consistency 1 Can it be possible that the honorable member has forgotten the manner in which, not many years ago, he conducted his canvass in a certain constituency not a hundred miles from Goderich 1 Did he not, while soliciting the votes of the pious electors, distribute copies of the Word of God with great profusion ? Does he not, with shame, recall the fact that the good people kindly received the Gospel but rejected the missionary ? " There followed a roar of laughter in which the honorable member in question appeared to join in a troubled, queer way. McGee finished a great speech alas, too soon. The house rapidly thinned and I went out with many others into the street. The moonlight was exceedingly bright. I wandered about aimlessly and after a long walk halted in a street in the black shadow sf a building. My attention was attracted by a light in a hotel opposite. The light of the moon shone on the houses across the way with great brilliance. The door of the hotel was ajar and I could see a British officer, drt ssed in a full scarlet uniform pacing up and down a long room, with his hands behind his back. As I stood looking at the officer, a man came swiftly out of the shadows about 50 yards to my right. He glided over the street until he came to the door. He pushed it open and instantly fired a pistol at the officer, who fell ■ dead without even a groan. I had not seen the man's face clearly but as he turned around in a quick flurried manner his hat fell off and 1 saw his face and recognized him as if it had been broad daylight. I exclaimed in horror, " Dick Foley, how could you do that 1 " and I awoke in affright, perspiration streaming from every pore. I was so nervous that I knew I could not go to sleep again. I arose, lighted a lamp, and looked at the clock. It was precisely 2 . o'clock in the morning. My wife asked me what the matter was and I answered, •' I have had an ugly dream, that's all. I'll be all right presently." At the breakfast table I related my dream to my wife and some friends who were visiting us. We all agreed that the dream was a very remarkable dream indeed. I went to business as usual, and before I had walked five blocks from borne, had ceased to think of the dream. As I reached the central part of the city I saw several groups of people, and as I passed I heard them speaking in low tones. In front of the post office quite a large crowd had gathered. I instinctively felt that there was serious news of some sort. There was something strange in the air and surroundings. The first person I saw whom I knew was the chief clerk of the post-office and I said, " Williams, is there any news 1 What has happened ? " He answered, with an astonished manner, " Why I haven't yeu heard 1 D'Arcy McGee was shot dead this morning at five minutes to 2 o'clock in Ottawa I He was in the House until the adjournment

a few minutes before he was shot." Good heavens 1 My dream ! This is all very strange, but the most extraordinary part of it remains to be told. One Whalen was convicted of the dastardly murder. Technical objections were taken by his counsel, the Hon. John Hilyard Cameron, to the course of procedure adopted on the trial by counsel for the Crown. On a writ of Jiabeas corpus Wbalen was brought from his cell in Ottawa before the Judges of the Queen's Bench, convened in Osgoode Hall, Toronto. I had not forgotten my dream, by any means ; but it was not in consequence of the same that I went to see Whalen. I went out of curiosity, like hundreds of others ; but imagine my surprise — almost amounting to consternation — when I saw the man of my dream ! Dick Koley ! Yes, there was Dick Foley, almost, but upon cool inspection, not the same. The resemblance was very startling. Foley was an oM acquaintance, and if I had been wide awake I could conceive that I might on that moonlight night easily have taken Whalen for Foley, at a distance of say 60 feet. Whalen was a medimsized man, about 35 years old, of florid complexion, sandy bair, with full side whiskers, bushy eye-brows and gray, sharp eyes, not at all an evil-looking man. Dick Foley answered this description in a general way. The men were formed alike, made up so as to resemble each other closely. Whalen was the murderer I saw in my dream I I remembered his face clearly ; the identification, with that of Foley's image, waa complete beyond the shadow of a doubt 1 Now poor McGee was in one sense a British officer, but he was not on that night dressed in a scarlet uniform ; he was not shot while walking about a long room. He was shot first as he was entering the door of his hotel, after leaving the House of Commons. Strange that McGee was to me the central figure of the debate. The only words uttered which I dreamed that I remembered were those of McGee, quoted above. As a matter of fact he did not speak those words on that night, but years before in Toronto when I heard them fall from his lips. Wa* I.preseut in spirit on that eventful night? Did I see in dreamful fashion, the dark deed committed at the door of the hotel ? Was my dream only a coincidence ? Two living witnesses can testify that 1 related them the dream as told above, substantially at the breakfast table en the morning of McGee's death, before the tidings of his demise reached either myself or them.