The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1876-01-06

bonnet trimmed in mourning ribbons,
and thenceforth was known only as the
Widow Matson.
And how was it ali this time with
David himself?
Now you must know that the Moham-
medan people of Algiers and Tripoli,
Mogdore and Sallee, on the Barbary
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 America
were sending vessels to Africa to catch
black slaves for their plantations The
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
Merrimac, and now he was set at work
In the dockyards. His master, who was
naturally kind man, did not overwork
him. He had daily his three loaves of
bread, and when his clothing was worn
out it's place was supplied by the coarse
cloth of wool and camel's hair, woven by
the Berber women. Three hours before
sunset he was released from work, and
Friday, which is the Mohammedan Sab
bath, was q day of entire rest. Once a
year, at the season called Ramcan, he
was left at leisure for q whole week.
So time went on-days, weeks, months
and years. His dark hair became gray.
r - r - I
Merrimac, and of his good Anna and her
boys. He wondered whether they were
yet living, 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
oountrymen, 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 they were free. AS you might ex-
pect, the poor fellows were very CRATE
full !; 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 de-
liverance.
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
lets he proceeded to write on the spot an
apostrophe to Freedom which afterward
found place in his great epic.
David Matson had saved little mon
ey during captivity, by odd jobs and
work on holidays. He got a 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
tdown to the port seven years before. He
found that his old neighbor did not
know him, so changed was he with his
long beard and Moorish dress, whereup-
on, without telling his name, he began
to put questions about his old home, and
finally asked if he knew Mrs. Matson.
CT rather think do" said Pelatiah
"she's my wife,
"Your wife! !" cried the other. "She
is mine before God and man. [ am Da-
vid Matson, and she is the mother Of my
children"
ssAnd mine too, /" said Pelatiah. 81
left her with a baby In Der 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 Mat
son, unconsciously repeating the fanil-
lar words of Moslem submission. ellis
will be done. I loved her, but 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. "Pel-
atiab," he said, looking back as he left
the ship, s'be kind to Anna and my
boys"
cay, ay, sir, . responded the sailor, in
careless zone. 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 I'm glad
I've 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 nor faint, for she was healthy
woman, with strong nerves; but she
stole away by herself and wept bitterly.
She lived many years after, 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 cot