[ Sporting Magazine ]
The Sporting Magazine (1792 - 1870) is considered the first general sporting magazine, though in its later decades it gave considerable emphasis to fox hunting. But it published all manner of sporting-related material, from news stories to poetry to calendars of upcoming sporting events. The subtitle of this magazine was "Monthly Calendar of the Transactions of the Turf, the Chace, and every other Diversion interesting to the Man of Pleasure, Enterprize and Spirit." [more at Wikipedia]
In 1868 (I can't determine the month, as the only online copy of this year of this magazine omits each issue's title page) Sporting Magazine ran "Rambles on Irish Rivers" about the author's travels in Ireland and his friend's recounting of some incidents from the famine year of 1846. One of those incidents involved the mysterious disappearance of a well-to-do merchant, Tubberiddy, and how a friend of that merchant, a man named Hogan, claimed that the merchant had died and left him all his wealth. Hogan then leaves Ireland for American. Some years go by, and when renovations are made to Hogan's old farm by a new owner, a skeleton is discovered buried in the garden. The locals speculate it is the remains of the rich merchant who mysteriously disappeared years earlier, as the skeleton is missing 3 teeth and it was known the merchant lost 3 teeth in a fight, but there's a catch: that merchant had a club foot, but the skeleton was missing the bones of one of its feet. Nothing much happens for some months — until the Newfoundland shows up:
A well-dressed man, long past middle-age, and evidently in wretchedly bad health, was slowly proceeding along the road. . . . He was accompanied by a large Newfoundland dog, whose sprightly gambols strongly contrasted with the sad, almost painful gait of the traveller. So energetic and busy was the playful animal that his master, to keep him at a respectful distance from himself, had to employ the dog's sagacity in fetching a short stick, which he ever and anon threw into the fields at each side of the road he travelled. As they approached the farm where the skeleton had been found, the stranger stopped and leaned against a gate which led into a large field where once the dwelling-place of Hogan stood, and near where the haggard [garden] once was, a large pool of water still remained, as it was in the days when Hogan lived there. A deadly pallor overspread the man's features as he gazed on the scene before him. The dog became at this time more than usually troublesome, and the man threw the stick which the dog had brought him, into the pond of water, almost unconscious of the act. In an instant the dog was in the water, and without looking for the stick, dived twice, the second time bringing to the land the bones of a human foot, which he at once brought out and laid at the feet of his master. The man gave one look at the bones, and then sank almost life-less on the ground. The barking of the dog soon brought people from the neighbouring houses, who raised the stranger and bore him into one of the dwellings, and, without knowing or caring of what religion the stranger was, sent for the priest; upon the arrival of that gentleman he found that the unfortunate man was fast sinking.
After a short time, Hogan, for it was the wretched murderer, confessed his crime openly. He stated that after he had arrived in America he proceeded to the back settlements, where he lost all his family, one by one, from fever and ague; that he was a wreck from that disease himself; that he could not well tell why he had returned to Ireland, but he felt that he was compelled by fate to do so; that he was wealthy, and his thought and wish was to see the farm where he had spent the greater part of his life; that if possible he intended to purchase it and preserve the remains of Tubberiddy until he drew near death, when he intended to disclose all to the priest, and leave enough of money to inter Tubberiddy's remains in consecrated ground near his own, and have masses said for the repose of both their souls; that the bones of the foot which the dog that day brought and laid at his feet was that of Tubberiddy, which he had cut off and thrown into the pool to prevent the body, if found, being identified; that as God had so ordained it, he now wished to suffer for his crime, and insisted that the police should be sent for.
The clergyman, shocked at the story, as well as at the appearance of the unhappy man, called at the Police Barrack as he rode home, and told what had occurred. The police were soon at the cottage; but, short as the time was, Hogan was dying, and the next morning's sun rose on the lifeless remains of the miserable wretch, whose last words were — "MURDER WILL OUT!"