Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1895-05-25
CRIMSON ON THE HEARTH.
The Weird Romance Of the Lonely
Homestead on DEVILS Island.

uOmeSt63o on U6sIfS selduu.
Where the incoming waves from
the sea meet the sparkling waters Of
the picturesque Tuckahoe river, with
in plain view Of Egg Harbor bay,
stands little spot of an island that
has been there as long as the oldest
Jerseyman can remember. 1t is not
as large as it was, for the invading
sea has been eating it away, inch by
inch, foot by foot, until now it is
but a mere remnant ofits former self.
There are those who say, however,
that $50 years ago there was a big
log mansion on DEVILS Island, and
that it stood in the very midst of
garden spot. Then, long years after
ward, 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 Island.
At the outbreak ofthe French and
Indian war the Tuckahoe tribe Of
Delaware Indians had done dread
full work on the Island. Cruel had
been their torture and butchery of
Jonathan 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 erect.
ed a substantial log mansion. BY
miracle the boy escaped the terrible
fate of his parents. Then, for a
number of years, the Island home
was deserted, the settlers dreading
to occupy it. The Revolutionary
war found Jonathan Junker, the
second, in the field, fighting for his
country's freedom. Then. flushed
with victory, the soldier returned
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
home 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 mansions old
fire place, upon one of the tiles, the
woman had noticed a dark, round
spot. She had endeavored to sfface
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 nelghbors who de-
clared it to be the likelihood of her
husbands young mother, for there
upon the hearth the searchers had
found her, cold in death, with GRIM
son spot over her heart.
At the eventide, seated before the
fireplace, the woman's eyes could
wander to naught but the dreaded
spot on the hearth. Then, while she
looked, the spot would glow and
scintillate in tue blaze Of the pine
logs. Its cardinal red seemed to be
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 its owner
and his fair yonng bride sat beside
the fireplace. They knew not OF the
storms approach. Little they cared.
Flashing and sparkling on the
hearthstone was the crimson spot,
the husband, like the wife, saw it
glow and fadeaway. Then the storm
came-a peal OF thunder that in its
rumblings fairly shook the earth-a
fash of lightning. White were the
faces by the fireplace as they looked
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