Greenbrier independent. [volume] (Lewisburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1859-1980, 1897-02-25

vi Mool ana camepS-hair WOyel
oy 'he Berber women, Three hour
before sunset he was released from
work, and Friday, which was tb,
Mohammedan Sabbath, was dav q
entire rest. Once year, at the sea
son called Ramadan, he was left a
leisure for a whole week. So tim,
went on-days, weeks, months ant
years. His dark hair became yrov
re stlll dreamed of his old home or
the Merrimac, and Of his good Anna
ana the boys. He wondered if they
yet hVed, what the thought of him,
ana what they were doing. The
nope 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. IVA
But one day a handsome middle
aged gentleman, in the dress of ono
OF our own countrymen, attended
oy a great officer Of the Dey, en-
tered the ship-yard, and called up
before him the American captives.
Inc stranger was none other than
joel Barlow, commissioner of the
United States to procure the liberia
ton Of slaves belonging to that gov.
ernment. 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 went
Tor JOY, some shouted and sang and
threw up their caps, while others.
with David Matson among them,
knelt down on the ships, and thanked
God for the great deliverance.
''Fhis is very affecting scene,"
salu the commissioner, wiping his
eyes " L must keep the impression
OF 1t for my Columbiad :" and, draw
ing out his tablet, he proceeded to
write on the spot an apostrophc to
freedom, which afterward found a
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 to Malaga, wheI he bought
nice shawl for his wife, and a
watch for each Of his bows. He
then went to the quay, where an
American ship was lying Just ready
to sail to Boston.
Almost the first man he saw on
board was Pelatiah Curtis, who
had rowed him down 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, ,whereupon,
without telling his name, he began
to put questions about his old home.
and finally asked him if he knew a
Mrs. MatsOn.
"l rather think do" said Pela-
tiah "shc's my wife,
Your wife," cried the other
'she is my wife before God and
man. | am David Matson, and she
is the mother Of my children"
6 And mine, too," said Pelatiah.
81 left her with 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"
"God is great ~ said poor David,
uncensciously repeating tho familiar
words of M0Slem submission. "I
loved her, but | shall never see her
again. Give these, with my bless
ing, to the good woman aud the
boys )" and he handed over, with a
sigh, the little bundle containing the
gifts for his wife and children. He
shook hands with his rival.
Pelatiah," he sand, looking back
as he left the ship, "be kind to Anna
and my boys"
"Aye, aye, 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
fresh cud of tobacco, "but Pm
glad I've seen the last Of him."
When Pelatiah Curtis reached
home, he told Anna the story of her
husbands 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
and wept bitterly. She lived many
years after, but could never be per-
suaded to wear the pretty shawl which
the husband of her youth had sent az
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 BULBS eye watch,
which is still i'm the possession of one
of her grandchildren, is now all
that remains to tell OF David Mat
sOn-the lost man.