He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire paper,
and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the paragraph in which
the unfortunate young man had given his own statement of what had
occurred. I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read
it very carefully. It ran in this way:
Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called and
gave evidence as follows: I had been away from home for three days at
Bristol, and had only just returned upon the morning of last Monday,
the 3rd. My father was absent from home at the time of my arrival, and
I was informed by the maid that he had driven over to Ross with John
Cobb, the groom. Shortly after my return I heard the wheels of his trap
in the yard, and, looking out of my window, I saw him get out and walk
rapidly out of the yard, though I was not aware in which direction he
was going. I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of the
Boscombe Pool, with the intention of visiting the rabbit warren which
is upon the other side. On my way I saw William Crowder, the
game-keeper, as he had stated in his evidence; but he is mistaken in
thinking that I was following my father. I had no idea that he was in
front of me. When about a hundred yards from the pool I heard a cry of
Cooee! which was a usual signal between my father and myself. I then
hurried forward, and found him standing by the pool. He appeared to be
much surprised at seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was
doing there. A conversation ensued which led to high words and almost
to blows, for my father was a man of a very violent temper. Seeing that
his passion was becoming ungovernable, I left him and returned towards
Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150 yards, however, when I
heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me to run back again. I
found my father expiring upon the ground, with his head terribly
injured. I dropped my gun and held him in my arms, but he almost
instantly expired. I knelt beside him for some minutes, and then made
my way to Mr. Turner s lodge-keeper, his house being the nearest, to
ask for assistance. I saw no one near my father when I returned, and I
have no idea how he came by his injuries. He was not a popular man,
being somewhat cold and forbidding in his manners, but he had, as far
as I know, no active enemies. I know nothing further of the matter.
The Coroner: Did your father make any statement to you before he died?
79