The Marietta journal. [volume] (Marietta, Ga.) 1866-1909, 1895-04-11
CRIMSON ON THE HEARTH.
The Weird Romance of the Lonely Home.
stead on Devils Island.

stead on Devils Island.
Where the incoming waves from
the sea meet the sparkling waters of
the picturesque Tuckahoe river,
within plain view of Egg Harbor
bay, stands a little spot of an island
that has been there as long as the
/ oldest Jerseyman can remember. It
is not as large as it was, for the in
vading sea has been eating il away,
inch by inch, foot by foot, until now
it is but a mere remnant of it's for
mer self. There are those who say,
however, that $50 years ago there
was big log mansion on Devils is
land, and that it stood in the very
midst of garden spot. Then, long
years afterward, it stood wreck,
sheltering naught but the swallows,
owls and bats, for no human being
would live within walls that were
said to bring death to the occupant.
Strange and weird is the story of
the haunted mansion of DEVILS is
land.
At the outbreak of the French and
Indian war the Tuckahoe tribe of
Delaware Indians had done dreadful
work on the island. Cruel had been
their torture and butchery of Jona-
than Junker and his good wife.
Junker had come over from Holland
with his young wife and son, and
after short stay at Cape May set
tied on Devils island, where he
erected q substantial log mansion.
By o miracle the boy had escaped
the terrible fate of his parents. Then,
for number of years, the island
home was deserted, the settlers
dreading to occupy it. The Revolu-
tionary war found Jonathan Jun
ker, the second, in the field, fighting
for his country's freedom. Then,
flushed with victory, the soldier re-
turned from the Continental army
to claim for himself a blushing young
bride. The horrors of war had been
great, but the pay small, and with
peace the newly welded couple found
that their possessions consisted of
the homo on DEVILS island, with its
neglected, weed covered farm.
The wife dreaded to live there,
but her husband laughed at her fear
and forebodings.
On the hearth of the mansion S old
fireplace, upon one of the tiles, the
woman had noticed O. dark, round
spot. She had endeavored to effaco
it by scrubbing and scraping, but
still it remained. AS the winter DAYS
went by the little spot seemed to
charm, even to fascinate her. There
were those of her neighbors who de-
clared it to be the 1ifeblood of her
husbands young mother, for there
upon the hearth the searchers had
found her, cold in death, with a
crimson spot over her heart.
At tho eventide, seated before the
fireplace the woman's eyes could
wander to naught but the dread
ed spot on the hearth. Then, while
she looked, the spot would glow and
scintillate in the blaze of the pine
logs. Its cardinal red seemed to be a
thing of life; then it would fade
away The husband could see but a
dull spot and tried to allay his wife's
fears by attributing it to imagina.
ton.
1t was an April night, so they say,
those who relate the story. Far in
the west huge bank of clouds, black
as night, was rising. Within the
mansion on Devils island it's owner
and his fair young wife sat beside
the fireplace. They knew not of the |
storms approach. Little they cared. |
Flashing and sparkling on the |
hearthstone was the crimson spot, |
more lurid in its coloring than usual. |
The husband, like the wife, saw it |
glow and fade away. Then the storm |
came-a peal of thunder that in its
rumblings fairly shook the earth-a |
flash of lightning. White were the |
faces by the fireplace as they looked J
down upon the little spot.
When the morning came and the |
bright sunlight streamed through |
the easements, the two watchers still |
sat by the hearth, and there the
searchers found them. Lightning
had done its work. The spot on the
hearth had gone. The young soldier
and his wife slept on and awoke no
more. The Junker race died with
them, and the crimson spot was gone
forever.-New York Herald.
A Sharks Big NIouthfuI.
-