Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1865-09-19

medan Sabbath, was day of entire rest
Once a year, at season called Ramadon, he
was left at leisure for whole week. So time
went on-days, weeks, months and years.
His dark hair became gray. He still
dreamed Of his own home on the Merrimac,
and Of the good Anna and her boys. He
wondered if they still lived, what they thought
of him, and what they were doing. The
hope of ever seeing them again grew fainter,
and at last nearly died out !; and he resigned
himself to his fate as slave for life.
But one day handsome, middle-aged gen
tleuan, in the dress of one Of his country
men, attended by great officer of the Bey,
entered the ship-yard, and called up before
him the American captives. The stranger
was none other than Joel Barlow, the Com
missioner of the United States to procure the
liberation of the slaves belongingto to that Gov
ernment. EIe took the men by the hands as
they came up, and told them they were free
AS you may expect, the poor fellows were
very grateful; some laughed, some wept for
JOY, some shouted and sang, and threw up
thair caps, while others, with David Matson
among them, knelt down on their chips and
thanked God for their great deliyerance.
''This is a very affecting scene, said the
Commissioner, wiping his eyes. 81 must
keep the impression oft for my Columbiad," !"
and, drawing out his tablet, he proceeded to
write an apostrophyito Freedom, which af
terwards found place in his great epic.
David Matson had saved a little money
during his captivity, by odd jobs and work
ing holidays. He got a passage to Malay,
where he bought nice shawl for. his wife,
and watch each for the boys. He then
went to the quay, where an American ship
was lying, just ready to sail for Boston.
Almost the first man he saw on board was
Palatha Curtis, who had rowed him down
to the port seven years before. He found
that old neighbor did not know him, SO
changed was he with his long beard and
Moorish dress; without telling him his name,
he began to put questions about his long lost
home, ard finally asked if he knew Mrs
Mafson.
sI rather think do" said Pelathia she's
my wife"
aYour wife p' cried the other. 'She's
mine before God and man. | am David
Matson and she is the mother OF my chill
dren"
sAnd mine toov'' said Polathia. | left her
with baby in her arms. If you are David
Matson your right to her is outlawed, at any
| rate she is mine and I am not the man to
give her up"
s.God is great T. said poor David Matson,
unoonsciously repeating the familiar words OF
Moslem submission. sIis will be done
Give these, with blessings, to the good wo-
man aud boys and he handed over, with a
sigh, the little bundle containing the gifts
for bis wife and children.
lie shook hands with his rival. "Pela-
tia h." he said, looking back as be eft the
ship, "bo kiud to Anna and my boys" /"
'Ay, ay, sir = responded the sailor in q
careless tone. He watched the poor man
passing slowly up the narrow street until out
of sight dts a hard case for old David,
he said, helping himself to fresh cud of to-
bacco; but am glad have seen the last
OF him.
When Palafhia Curtis reached home be
told Anna the story of her husband, and laid
his gifts in her iap she did not faint OF
shrek, for she was a healthy woman with
strong nerves; but she stole away and wept
bitterly. She lived many years after, but
could not be persuaded to wear the pretty
shawl which the husband of her youth had
sent as farewell gift There is, howe yer, a
tradition, that in accordance with her dying
wish, it was wrapped about her poor old
shoulders in the coffin and buried with her
The little bulI's.eyc watch, which is still
in the possession of her grand children, is
now all that remains to tell Of David Matson
the lost man