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Updated: June 27, 2025
In some ways he is better. He is far less cruel than his ancestors were than our ancestors were. He does not torture with the tumbril, the stocks, the ducking-stool, the pillory, the branding-irons, the ear-pruners and nostril-shears and tongue-branks that were in everyday use under the old criminal code.
The bedding rolls of the riders would be strewn round the grass, and I would put mine down a little outside the ring, where I would not be in any one's way, with my six or eight branding-irons beside it. The men would ride in, laughing and talking with one another, and perhaps nodding to me.
Joe," he added, turning on the little man who was twisting his slouch hat up unmercifully in his nervous hand, and grinning ferociously, "are the corrals prepared, and have you got my branding-irons ready? You see I've rounded her up." The little man grinned worse than ever, and appeared to be in imminent peril of extending his torn mouth into the region of his ear.
I wish I could say as much for Mr. Aiken." At that moment Aiken, being quite innocent, said even less for himself, and because he was innocent looked the trapped and convicted criminal. Laguerre's eyes glowed like two branding-irons. As he fixed them on Aiken's face one expected to see them leave a mark. "If the General will only listen," Aiken stammered. "If you will only give me a hearing, sir.
Quashee, black and ignorant as he may be, will not "get himself made a slave again." The mission of the "beneficent whip" is there pretty well over; and it may now find its place in museums and cabinets of ghastly curiosities, with the racks, pillories, thumbscrews, and branding-irons of old days.
Whipping-post and branding-irons are at hand, and death is something closer to a felon in Virginia than in England. Be careful! Now, Woodson, what have you put these men to?" "They'll go into the three-mile field to-morrow morning, your honor, unless you wish other disposition made of them." "No, that will do. Take them away."
He had previously grown accustomed to the horrors suggested by pistols, knives, red-hot branding-irons, and even pitchforks, but rocks in a stocking that smacked of barbarism. Moreover, to mount on the back of a bronco, wild or tame the very meditation made the walls drop out of his stomach. However, he smiled. "Child's play!" he answered, with fine disgust. "You warty infant!
"And now touching that shy friend of yours, you shall stay here without meat or drink without meat or drink, d' ye hear me? until you please to tell me his name and business." He took his foot from the bar. "When you've had enough of this, send me word, and we'll have the branding-irons to you." On that he swung on his heel, and strode out of the stockade, his negroes following.
"Why don't you have a strip of ringlets down each leg, with tight little curls between?" suggested the Little Doctor, not to be outdone by any other woman. "Correct you are," praised Irish. "And, remember, you're not heating branding-irons, mister man," she added. "You'll burn all the hair off, if you let the tongs get red-hot. Just so they'll sizzle; I've told you five times already."
Cursed be they all! Surely they shall be as Sodom and Gomorrah, even the breeding of salt-pits and a perpetual desolation!" "Your curses seem not to have availed, friend," said Landless. "Curses are apt to come home to roost. I should judge that yours have returned to you in the shape of branding-irons." The man raised a skeleton hand and stroked the red letter.
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