Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1875-09-09
The Story of David Matson.

WHO of my young friends have read the
sorrowful story of Enoch Arden.'' so
sweetly and simply told by the great En-
glish poet? 1t is the story Of man who
went to sea, leaving behind a sweet young
wife and little daughter. He was cast
away on a desert island, where he re-
manned several years, when he was dis
covered and taken off by passing vessel.
Coming back to his native town he found
his wife married to an old playmate-a
good man, rich and honored-with whom
she was living happily. The poor man.
unwilling to cause her pain and perplexity,
resolved not to make himself known to
her, and lived and died alone. The poem
has reminded me of very similar story
OF my own New England neighborhood,
which | have often heard and which I will
try to tell, not in poetry, like Alfred Ten
nysOn's, but in my own poor prose. l can
assure my readers that, in it's main partic-
ulars, it is true tale:
One bright, summer morning, more
than three-sc years ago, David Matson,
with his young wife and his two healthy,
barefooted 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, 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 level, morning sun
shine, talking 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 danger on the sea. And David's
bluff, CHEEKY voice trembied little now
and then, for the honest sailor loved his
snug home on the Merrimack with the
dear wife and her pretty boys. But pres
emily 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 Pelatiah
Curtis. There's no time for kissing and
such fooleries when the tide serves"
And so they parted. Anna and the BOYS
went back to their home, and David to
the port, whence he sailed off in the Live
ly Turtle. And months passed; autumn
followed the summer, and winter the
autumn; and then spring came; anon, it
was summer on the river side, and he did
not come back. And another year passed,
and then the old sailors and fishermen
shook their heads solemnly, and said the
Lively Turtle was lost ship, and would
never come back to port. And poor Anna
had 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 MOham-
medan people of Algiers and Tripoli, and
MOgadore and Sallee, on the Barbary
coast had for a long time been in the hab-
it 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 them
selves Christians, in America, were send
ing vessels to Africa to catch black slaves
for their plantations Ghe 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
dock-yards. 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 camels hair woven by the Ber
Der women. Three hours before sunset
he was released from work, and Friday,
which is the Mohammedan Sabbath, was
a day OF entire rest. Once year, at the
season called Ramaden, 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 old home on the Merrimack, and
of his good Anna and the boys. Hewon-
dered whether they yet lived, what they
thought Of him and what they were doing
The hope of ever seeing 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
counTymen, 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 CRATE
full; some laughed, some wept for 10Y, |
some shouted and sang and threw I'D |
their caps, while others, with David Mat
son among them, knelt down on the chips
and thanked God for the great deliver |
ance
"Thie is very affecting scene,n said !