The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1853-06-29
A Wooden Ladle.

The following story, related a few
days since by one who was we'll ac
quainted with the circumstances, is
worth publication.
Many years ago, there lived in the
eastern part of Massachusetts, n young
man whom We will call Raymond. His
was wild. rowing disposition. prefcrring
hunting and fishing and the habits of
life of the red man. far better than the
quiet, unassuming life of the agricultur-
ist or mechanic lie became attached
TO young woman in the neighborhood
and ere long they were married. In
due time q son was born and not long
after. as the red men were gradually
moving towards the setting SUM- and his
wild propeDsities became somewhat i'm
pcrious, he concluded. with the Ct nsent
of his wife, to 60 with them. They
pitched their tent on the banks of the
noble Connecticut, whose proud waters,
then as now, moved or majestically to
the ocean. Here the foresta were dense.
the hunting grounds unoAccptonable
and wide range afforded for the sports
in which he delighted They lived Oh
the most friendly terms with their taw.
ny neighbors, entertaining neither fears
nor misgyings he sturdy maple
made up the bulk Of those grand old
woods" and afforded to the Indians and
early settlers large quantities of maple
sugar. which even in those days was cs
teemed luxury. The woods where
the sap was gathered and distilled was
at some distance from the log tenement
Of Raymond aud occasionally his only
son and child now about five years old
and almost idolized by his parents, ac
companied him In anticipation of the
occupation above alluded to, the father
spent many of his long winter evenings
in fashiouing aud elaborately carving q
large wooden ladlc for the use of his
darling boy when he should accompany
his father to the woods in Spring. The
child was delighted with his gift, and
was often left by the boiling cauldrou
at play, while the father went deeper
into the forest for game. One day he
left him as usual 4; and after an absence
of an hour, returned, only to find his
boy missing. The father called but hear
ingh response supposed his child had set
out for homo Raymond reached home
at late hour. bnt his idolized bay was
not there All search proved fruiess
and their once happy home was desolatc.
For many da's the mother wandered
through and through the woods. calling
on her boy TIE agony was greater
than she could bear, reason was delhron-
ed and n few weeks suficod to complete
the work of death. Raymond was alone
in the world, and his murmurs against
the Providence that made him so, were
deep. Years elapsed, and the lone old
man emigrated to the northern part of
New Hampshire, and settled in the coun-
ty of Coos. Here be purchased small
farm, and lived until eighty of our nor
thorn wintors had blanched his hair to
snowy whitenoss, and care and sorrow
aud hardships had deeply furrowed his
face Near the close of the old mans
life while lying on his death bed, a
neghbor of his took a journey to some
part of Canada, and stopped at an inn.
While sitting in the public room, OBJ
serving the strangers rs they passed to
and fro, his attention became rivetod up
on face and form that seemed familiar.
He approached him, saying.
A" Is your name Raymond p
Yes"
Have You wooden ladle p
Il have answered the man in sur
prise.
"Will YOU let me sec it ~
The man stepped out, and in a few
moments returned with tho ladle. said
the stranger i know an old man by
the name of Raymond who often speaks
Of long lost son. and Of wooden la
die he is now lying at the point of
death in c., Now Hampshire ; will
you go and see him ?"
/" | will.n said the stranger
After few days they reached the
dwelling of the dying old man. That
he might not be taken to much by sur
prise, his neighbor took the lndle in his
hand, and entered the room He held
it up before him the dim eyes of the
old man frightened, and he exclaimed
with transport, The ladle, the ladle !
Oh where is my son ? -
In the adjoining ROOM" was the
reply will bring him in." n
One moment, aud the son was in the
arms of his father.
"iOh ! my son, tell me how you came
to leave us so long, long Ogo?"
The indians, father, stolem me away"
The old man. broken down with age
and sickness and sorrow, wept tears Of
gratitude at this unexpected mercy /;