The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1875-11-26
he resigned himself to his fate as a slave

he resigned himself to his fate as a slave
for life.
But one day handsome, middle-aged
gentleman, in the dress of one of his
own eountrymeD, attended by great
officer of the Dey, 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 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
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 deliveranee.
''This is very affecting seene,p said
the commissioner, wiping his eyes. 81
must keep the impression of it for my
'Columbiad.' }" And, drawing out his
tablets, he proceeded to write on the
spot an apostrophe to Freedom, which
afterwards found place in his great
epic.
David Matson had saved a little
money during his captivity, by odd
jobs and work on holidays. He got a
passage for Malaga, where he bought
nice shawl for his wife, and a 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 port seven years be-
fore. He found that 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 put questions about his old
home, and finally asked him if he knew
Mrs. Matson.
81 rather think do,n said Pelatiah.
"She's 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 too !" said Pelatiah. "I
left her with a 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.n
"God is great ~ said David Matson,
unconsciously repeating the familiar
words of Moslem submission. "His will
be done. 1 loved her, but I shall
never see her again. Give these, with
my blessing, to the good woman and
the boys" And he handed over, with
sigh, the little bundle containing the
gifts for his wife and children.
He shook hands with his rival.
"Pelatiah," he said, looking back as
he left the ship, "be kind to Anna end
my boys"
f'Ay, ay, sir ~ responded the sailor,
in careless tone. He watched the
poor man passing slowly up the narrow
street until out of sight. ''It's hard
case for old David" he said, helping
himself to a fresh cud of tobacco.
"But Pm glad pve seen the last of
him."
Pelatiah Curtis reached home; he
told Anna the story of her husband, and
laid his gifts in her lap. She did not
shrek or faint, for she was a healthy
woman, with strong nerves; but she
stole away by herself and wept bitterly.
She lived many years afterward, but
could never be persuaded to wear the
pretty shawl which the husband of her
youth had sent as his farewell gift.
There is, however, 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 old bulPs-eye watch, which
is still in the possession of one of her
grandchildren, is now all that remains
to tell of David Matson, the lost man.