Bradford opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1874-1881, 1874-09-05

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of his good Anna, and the boy,
q He wondered if they yet lived, wha
they thought of him. and what the,
were doing. The hope OF ever seein
them again grew fainter and faint
er, and at last nearly died out; an,
he resigned himself to his fate as
slave for life.
But one day handsome middle
aged gentleman, in the dress of on,
of his own countrymen, attended b,
great officer of the Dey. entered
the ship-yard, and called up before
him the American captives. Th,
stranger was none other then Joe
Barlow, commissioner Of the United
States to procure the liberation o
slaves belonging to that govern
ment. He took the men by the
hand as they came up, land told them
they were free. AS you might cX.
pect, the poor fellows were very
grateful; some laughed, some wept
for joy, some threw up their caps,
while others, with David Matson
among them, knelt down on the
chips, and thanked God for their
great deliverance.
"This is very affecting scene,"
said the commissioner wiping his
eyes. Il must keep the impression
of it for my Columbiad y and draw
ing out his tablet he proceeded to
write on the spot an apostrophe of
freedom, which afterward found
place in great epic.
David Matson had saved little
money during his captivity, by odd
jobs, and work on holidays. He got
a passage to Malaga, where he
bought n nice shawl for his wife,
and a watch for each of 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 Oh
board was Pelatiah Curtis, who had
rOwed him down to the Point seven
years before. He found his 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 pnt questions about his old home,
and finall y asked him if he knew a
Mrs. Matson.
81 rather think l do" said Pala-
tiah 'shc is my wife,"
"Your wife !" cried the other.
''She is mine, before God and man,
am David Matson, and she is the
mother of my children"
"And mine toow said Palatiah.
Il left her with baby in her arms.
If you are David Matson your right
% her is ontlawed; at any rate she
s mine, and [ am not the man to
give her up"
"God is great y said poor David
Watson, unconsciously repeating the
amiliar words of Moslem submis-
ion. ellis will be done, l loved
Ter, but | never shall see her again.
Tive these with my blessing, to the
'ood woman and the boys" and he
landed over with sigh, the little
containing the gifts for his
wife and children.
He shook hands with his rival.
Peltiah," said he, looking back as
e left the ship, "be kind te Anna
nd my boys"
"Ay, ay, sirV' responded the sal
)r, in a careless tone. He watch .
d the poor man passing slowly
p the narrow street until out
f sight. "It's hard case for
Id David" he said helping himself
a fresh cud of tobacco; "but Pm
lad Fve seen the last of him. S
When Pelatiah Curtis reached {
ONE he told Anna the story of her {
and laid the gifts in her !
p. She did not shrink or faint, c
II she was healthy woman, with {
rOng nerves but she stole away 1
I'd wept bitterly. She lived many
,ars after, but could never be per- t
laded to wear the pretty shawl a
hich the husband of her youth had Il
mt as his farewell gift. There is a
,wever tradition, that in accord c
ice with her dying wish, it was a
raped about her poor shoulders p
the coffin and buried with her. o
The little old bull's-eye watch, u
hich is still in the possession of u
II grandchildren is all that remains p
tell of David MatsOn, the lost v
an. u
-MeSsrs. o. A. and q. w. Blan- =,
ard of WilliamstOwn, own a ma y
re COW six years old which on the Il