Lexington weekly intelligencer. (Lexington, Mo.) 1871-1887, 1875-11-27
DAVID MATsON.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.

lie Tcll.ilncu several years, WueH Hc
was discovered and taken off by pass
ing vessel. Coming back to his native
town, he found his wife married to an
old playmate good man, rich and
honored, with whom she was living hap
PLY. The poor man, unwilling to cause
her pain and perpleXity, resolved not to
and died alone. The poem has remind
New England neighborhood, which l
have often heard, and which will try
to tell, not III poetry, like Alfred Ten
can assure YOU my readers that, in its
main particulars, it is true tale:
One bright, summer morning, more
than three score years ago, David Mat
son, 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
whcrry. and take the husband and faith
er to the port, a few miles below. The
Lively Turtle was about to sail on
voyage to Spain, and David was to go in
her as mate. They stood there in the
level morning sunshine, talking cheer
fully, but had you been near enough .yos
could have seen tears in Anna Matson's
blue eyes, Tor she loved her husband, and
knew there was always danger on the
sea- And David's bluff, cherry voice
trembled 4 little, now and then, for the
honest sailor loved his snug home on
the Merrimack, with the dear wife and
her pretty boys. But presently the
wherry came along, and David was just
stepping into it when he turned back to
kiss his wife and children once more.
lin with you, niaa,' said Pelatiah Cur
tbs; there's no time for kissing and such
foolcries when the tide serves.'
And so they parted. Anna and the
boys went back to their home, and Da-
vid to the Port, whence he sailed off in
the Lively Turtle. And months passed;
autumn followed the summer, and Win
ter 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
lyed black, and her straw bonnet trim
med in mourning ribbons, and thence
forth she was known only as the widow
| of Matson.
And how was it all this time with Da-
vid himself.
Now YOU must know that the Moham-
inedan people of Algiers and Tripoli,
and Magadore and Sallee on the Barba-
ry coast, had, for a long time, been in
the habit of lifting out galleys and armed
| boats to seize upon the merchant vessels
| of Christian nations, and make slaves OF
their crews and passengers, Just as the
| men calling themselves Christians, in
America, were sending vessels to Afri-
| ca, to catch black slaves for their plan
tations. The Lively Turtle fell into the
| hands of one of these rowing sea-rob-
bers, and the crew were taken to Algiers
and sold in the market place as slaves,
poor David Matson among the rest.
When a boy he had learned the trade
| of ship-carpenter with his father, on the
| Merrimac, and now he was set at work
in the dock-yards. His master, who
was naturally Il kind man, did not over
work him. He had daily his three loaves
of bread, and when his clothing was
worn out its place was supplied by the
course cloth of wool and camers hair,
woven by the Berber women. Three
hours before sunset he was released
from work, and Friday, which is the
Mohammedan Sabbath, was a day of en-
tire rest
Once a year, at the season called Ro-
madon, he was left at leisure for whole
week. So time went on-days, weeks,
months and years. His dark hair be-
came gray. He still dreamed of his old
home on the Merrimac, and of his good
Anna and the boys. He wondered
whether they yet lived, what they thought
of him, and what they were doing. The
hope of ever seeing them grew fainter
| and fainter. and ut last nearly died out /;
and 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 countryman, attended by a great
officer of the Dey, entered the ship yard.
and called up before him the American
captives. The stranger was none ether
than Joel Barlow, Commissioner of the
United States, to procure the liberation
of slaves belonging to that government.
lie 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 deliverance.
ssThis is a very affecting scene," said
the commissioner, wiping his eyes, 81
must keep the impression of it for my
Columbiad;" and drawing out his tab
lets he proceeded to write on the spot
an apostrophe to Freedom, which after
wards found place in his great epic.
David Matson had saved a little mon
cy during his captivity, by odd jobs and
work on holidays. He got passage to
AIalagna, 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.
4 Almost the first man he saw on board
was Pelatiah Curtis, who had rowed him
down TO the port some years before.
He found that his old neighbor did not
know him. SO changed was he with his
long beard and Moorish dress. where
upon, without telling his name. he be-
gan to put questions about his old home,
and finally asked him if he knew Mrs.
Matson.
81 rather think do" said Pelatiah !;
..she's my wife"
Your wifen' cried the other; she is
mine before God and man. am David
Matson, and she is the mother of my
children.''
.sAnd mine, too,' said Pelatiah; 81
left her with baby in her arms. Ii
you are David Matson your right to her
is outiawed; at any rate, she is mine,
and am not the man to give her up"
'sGod is greatn said poor David Mat
son, unconsciopsly repeating the famili-
ar words ofMoslem submission. His will
be done. love her, but shall never see
her again. Give these, with my bless
ing, to the good woman and the boys, !"
aud he handed over, with a sigh, the lit
tie bundle containing the presents for
his wife and children.
He shook hands with rival. "Pela-
tiah," he said. looking back, as he left
the ship, '.be kind to Anna and my
boys"
s'Ay, ay, SIR" responded the sailor in
u careless tone. He watched the poor
man pass slowly up the narrow street,
until nearly out of sight. Its a hard
case for old David, but Pm glad I'vc
/ seen the last of him." said Pelatiah.