The weekly pioneer and Democrat., 1865-04-21

poetry, like Alfred Tennysons, but in my
own poor prose. can assure my readers
that in its main particulars it is true tale.
One bright summer morning, more than
three score years ago, David Matson, with
bis young wife and bis two healthy, bare
footed boys, stood on the bank of the
river, near their dwelling. They were
waiting there for Pelatiah Curtis to come
round the Point with his wherry, and take
the husband and father to the port, a few
miles below. The Lively Turtle was about
to sail on voyage to Spain, and David
was to 60 in her as mate. They stood
there in the lovely morning sunshine, talk
ing cheerfully; but, had you been near
enough, you could have seen tears in
Anna Matson's blue eyes, for she loved her
husband, and knew there was always dan.
ger on the sea. And Davids bluff CHEEKY
voice trembled little now and then, for
the honest sailor loved his home on the
Merrimac, with the dear wife and the pref
ty boys. But presently the wherry came
alongside, and David was just stepping
into it, when he turned back to kiss his
wife and children once more.
In with you, man" said Palatiah Cur
tis. "There's no time for kissing and
such fooleries when the tide serves.''
And 80 they parted. Anna and the
boys went back to their house, and David
to the port, whence they sailed off in the
Lively Turtle. And two months passed,
autumn followed the summer and winter
the autumn, and then spring came, and
anon it was summer on the river side, and
he did not come back. And another year
passed, and then the old sailors and fish
ermen shook their heads solemnly, and
said the Lively Turtle was lost ship, and
would never come back to port. And
poor Anna and her bombazine gown dyed
black, and her straw bonnet trimmed in
mourning ribbons, and thenceforth she
was known only as the Widow Matson.
And how was it all this time with David
himself?
Now you must know that the Mahom-
medan people of Algiers and Tripoli, and
Mogadore and Sallee, on the Barbarry
coast, had for long time been in the
habit of fitting out galleys and boats to
sieze upon merchant vessels of Christian
nations, and make slaves of their crews
and passengers, just as men calling them
selves Christians in America were sending
vessels to Africa to catch black slaves to
for their plantations. The Lively Turtle
fell into the hands of one of these rowing
sea robbers, and the crew were taken to
Algiers, and sold in the market place as
slaves, poor David Matson among the rest.
When boy he had learned the trade of
ship carpenter with his father on the Mer-
rimack, and now he was set at work in the
dockyards. His master, who was natu-
rally kind man, did not overwork him.
He had daily his three loaves of bread,
and when his clothing was worn out, its
place was supplied by the coarse cloth of
wool and camel's hair woven by the Berber
women. Three hours before sunset he
was released from work, and Friday, which
was the Mohammedan Sabbath, was day
of entire rest. Once year, at the season
called Ramadan, he was left at leisure for
a whole week. So time went on-days,
weeks, months and years. His dark hair
became gray. He still dreamed of his old
home on the Merrimack, and of his good
Anna and the boys. He wondered if they
yet lived, what they thought of him, and
what they were doing. The hope of ever
seeing them again grew fainter and faint
or, and at last nearly died out; and he
resigned himself to his fate as slave for
life.
But one day q handsome, middle-aged
gentleman, in the dress of one of his own
oountrymen, attended by great officer of
the Boy, entered the ship-yard and called
up before him the American captives. The
stranger was none other than Joel Barlow,
Commissioner of the United States, to
procure the liberation of slaves belonging
to the Government. He took the men BY
the hand as they came up, and told them
that they were free. As you might ex-
pect, the poor fellows were very grateful /;
some laughed, some wept for joy, some
shouted and sang and threw up their caps,
while others, with David Matson among
them, knelt down on the chips, and thanked
God for the great deliverance.
GO This is very affecting scene," said
the Commissioner, wiping bis eyes. i
must keep the impression of it for my
Columbiad >" and drawing out his tablet
he proceeded to write on the spot an apos-
trophe to Freedom, which afterwards found
place in his great epic.
David Matsen had saved little money
during his captivity, by odd jobs and work
on holidays. He got passage to NAL
aga, where he bought nice shawl for his
wife and watch for each of his bows. He
then went to the quay, where an Ameri-
can ship was lying just ready to sail for
Boston.
Almost the first man he saw on board
was Pelatiah Curtis, who had rowed him
down to the port seven years before. BE
found that his old neighbor did not know
him, SO changed was he with his long
beard and Moorish dress, whereupon. with.
out telling his name, he began to put ones
tions about his old home, and finally asked
him if he knew Mrs Matson.