Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1873-12-26

and thenceforth she was known only aJ
the Widow Matson.
And how was it all this time with Da.
vid himself.
Now you must know that the Moham
medan people OF Algiers and Tripol
and Mogadore and Sallee, on the Barba
ry coast, had for long time been in the
habit of fitting out galleys and armed
boats to seize upon merchant vessels OF
Christian nations, and make slaves OF
their crews and passengers, just as men
calling themselves Christians in Ameri-
ca were sending vessels to Africa to
catch black slaves for their plantations
The Lively Turtle fell into the hands
Of one these rowing sea robbers, and
the crew were taken to Algiers, and sold
in the market place as slaves, poor Da-
vid Matson among the rest.
When boy he had learned the trade
of ship carpenter with bis father on the
Merrimack and now he was set at work
in the dock-yards. His master who was
naturally kind man, did not overwork
him. He had daily his three losves of
bread, and when his clothing was worn
out, its place was supplied by the coarse
cloth Of wool aud oamel's-hair woven by
the Bsrber women. Three hours before
sunset he was released from work, and
Friday which was Mohammedan Sab
bath, was a day of entire rest. Once a
year, at the season called Ramadan, he
was left at leisure ior 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 liv-
ed, what they thought Of him, and what
they were doing. The hope of ever see
ing them again grew fainter and fainter,
and at last nearly died out; and he
resigned himself to his fate as slave
for life.
But one day handsome, middle-aged
gentleman, in the dress of one of his own
countrymen, attended by great officer
of the Dey, entered the ship yard, and
called up before him the American cap
tives. The stranger was none other than
Joel Barlow, commissioner of the United
States to procure the liberation of slaves
belonging to that government. He took
the men by the hand, as they came up,
and told them they were free. As you
might expect, the poor fellows we're very
grateful some laughed, some wept for
joy, some threw up their caps, while 9TH
ers, with David Matson among them,
knelt down on the chips, and thanked |
God for their great deliyerance.
"This is very affecting scene" said |
the commissioner, wiping his eyes. II
must keep the impression of it for my
Columbiad !" and drawing out his tab.
let he proceeded to write on the spot an
apostrophe to Freedom, which after
ward found place in his great epic.
David Matson had saved little mon
ey during his captivity by odd jobs and
work on holidays. He got passage to
Malaga, where he bought nice shawl
for his wife and watch for each of his
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 Pelatiah Curtis, who had rowed him
down to the Point seven years before.
He found this old neighbor did not know
him, SO changed was he with his long
beard and Moorish dress, whereupon,
without telling his name he began to pu.
questions about his old home, and fnalls
asked him if he knew Mrs. Matson.
Il rather think do, said Pelatiah.
. she is my wife"
"Your wife! cried the other. She
IS mine, before God and man. am
David Matson, aud che is the mother of
my children"
And mine too said Pelatiah. al
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
[ am not the man to give her up"
'God is great" said poor David
Matson, uncousciously repeating the
familiar words of Moslem submission.
" His will be done, l loved her, but |
shall never see her again. Give these
with my blessing, to the good woman
and the boys" and be handed over with
a sigh, the little bundle containing the
gifts for his wife and children.
He shook hands with his rival. "Pel-
atiah, said he looking back as he left
the ship, be kind to Anna and my
boys"
Gay, ay, sir responded the sailor,
n careless tone. He watched the
poor man passing slowly up the narrow
itreet until out of sight. "Its a hard !