Mystery of 'Poison Farm' Deepens As Two More Die

1915

Visit to Place Brings Out Peculiar Story

SPRINGFIELD, Ill., Dec. 16. — "There y' be," said the guide. "Y' see that stretch o' woods? It's past them. Nobody's ever been in them woods. Y' can't get thru. Well, we go round 'em and then down the hill and then we come to the poison farm. Giddap. Beautiful day, ain't it?"

The rig jogged over the unfrequented road that ran away in loops to meet the sky.

"There ain't many people as comes out here," went on the guide. "It's only a mile and a half from Marseilles but the woods there ain't very hospitable, and the poison farm ain't the sort of place people gets too curious about.

Two More Just Died

"Y' know, two o' them died last week, both together. Everybody dies or gets sick. It's the most mysterious thing. Now, y' take the people as lived on it five or six years ago. I don't recall how many died, but I know they was durn sick, and it always comes on 'em at the same time of the year — almost a certain day. It's something to do with them woods there, I'll betcha, altho the doctor's been working down there for two weeks now, ever since the little girl took sick. Giddap.

"You wouldn't think on a beautiful day like this as there was a poison farm right around the bend, would y'?"

For a few minutes the rig rattled along without any obligato from its driver. The country which on leaving the village of Marseilles had become typical Illinois farm country was now assuming the aspect of a broken wilderness against which pioneers were still struggling. To the west stretched the "poison" wood in which, according to the gossip of the countryside, "no foot had ever trod."

"Poison House" Looms Up

"Now we're comin' to it," called the driver, flickering his whip. "There she is. Y'see that little house. That's the house. That's where the two died last week. Giddap! Come on, there!"

The veteran village charioteer was growing excited. He had straightened in his seat and was leaning forward.

The rig drew to a stop in front of a pretty farmhouse that lay in the shadow of the river hills around it.

"Hello Doc," called the guide, and a serious looking man approached. He introduced himself as Dr. A. J. Weirick of Marseilles.

"Let's not bother the folks," he said. "You can look over the place, and I'll tell you what little we have been able to find out about it."

A tour thru the farm revealed nothing unusual. Apparently the farm differed in no way from the farms which adjoined it. The same road cut thru it, the same pastures surrounded it, the same growths covered it. Only in the pretty farmhouse sat the lone figure of a man, the farmer, who had lost his wife and child a few days ago.

An hour later Dr. Weirick told the medical and scientific side of the strange story which has aroused superstition and fear in the neighborhood. The farm has been tenanted by various families. Before the present tenants lived on it two other families were the occupants.

It was many years ago that something strange about the farm became apparent. In October one or two of the people in the place would get sick. There were deaths but no attention was paid.

The next tenants came on the farm and again the strange fact was noticed that in October sickness came and death. One after another the family fell ill during that month of the years they were there and they finally moved.

Mother, Then Daughter, Stricken

The first year the present occupants were there the wife became ill — in October. She was saved by medical treatment. The second year the daughter became ill — in October. She, too, was saved. The third year the father was stricken and saved as the others had been.

A year passed, during which the peculiar illness was absent and then in October the daughter fell ill. The father also began to "feel bad," and doctors were summoned from Ottawa and Marseilles. While the doctor was caring for the girl and her father the wife began to complain of dizziness and nausea. A nurse was sent for. She had no sooner arrived than the older woman succumbed. Her death was followed in a few hours by the death of her daughter. The husband, who appeared to be also dying, was taken to the hospital.

"It's some form of poison," went on Dr. Weirick. "What it is we don't know. The State Board of Health has taken a hand. The coroner at LaSalle long ago gave up the case. He said there was nothing he could do.

"There is something strange and perhaps unknown to our science lurking in those dense woods or in the pastures. We're as far from a solution of the various deaths and illnesses as ever."

"Giddap," cried the guide, leaving the hospital, whither Dr. Weirick had gone. "I tell y' what, young fella. If y' want the real story o' this poison farm y' go ask Looie over t' Marseilles. He knows. It was he as came thru them woods one night after celebratin' in Ottawa, and while I ain't got no faith in what he says an' no belief in them kind o' things, y' just go and ask him if y' want the real story about why everybody dies in October sudden when they lives on that farm."