Rev. D. B. Cooper.
The following account of an attempt to mob and ride on a rail this humble and worthy minister of the gospel will be perused with interest, as it is furnished by an eye witness and an intelligent physician, whose statements will not be called in question. But for the fact that he is “not a professor of Christianity,” and authorizes the use of his name with respectable references, the language would be somewhat toned down and tempered to a milder moral zone. But it is thought best to give the communication as received, as it details some important facts, and throws light upon the animus of others:
“Pilot Grove, Cooper Co., Mo., April 25, 1869.
“Rev. P. M. Pinckard, St. Louis, Mo.:
“In the summer of 1863 Rev. D. B. Cooper, now of Mt. Sterling, Ky., was on the circuit in Linn county, Mo. He is one of the purest men I have ever known, and remarkably reticent. I knew him intimately and well, being his physician and a personal friend. He never preached or talked politics, even to his most intimate friends and acquaintances. If there was but one man in Missouri during those wicked years of horror walking humbly before God and acting uprightly toward his fellow-men, that man was D. B. Cooper.
“On Sunday he was preaching in Laclede, my then residence; some one whispered to me that some soldiers were outside intending to ride the preacher on a rail. I went out and sure enough there were some half-dozen soldiers who had come up from Brookfield, had gone into a ‘loyal’ doggery, imbibed freely, and meeting some ‘loyal Methodists,’ were told that a rebel was preaching. Under the stimuli of bad whisky and the worse hearts of the ‘God and morality’ Methodists, they had come to the church with a fence-rail intending to commit an outrage upon this gentleman. But ‘man proposes and God disposes.’
“I tried to dissuade them from their purpose, but could not, and went back into church to a lieutenant of Col. McFerran’s regiment, then stationed in Laclede, and told him to go to Col. McFerran and tell him to send a file of soldiers immediately. I knew McFerran could be relied on, as he was a Democrat and a gentleman. There was no time to lose; service was nearly over, and neither Mr. Cooper nor his congregation knew anything of the impending outrage. The upper floor of a ‘loyal’ Methodist’s house near by was full of ‘God’s elect’ to witness the fun. Just before the service closed the braves crowded into the house, and when the congregation was dismissed they, the soldiers, were so situated that they had to leave the house last. When they came out and were about to lift their rail at the side of the house and seize Mr. Cooper—who was yet in ignorance of their designs—they, and all but myself, were surprised to see two files of soldiers, with fixed bayonets, marching down on us so as to encompass the entire crowd. As no violence had been done, no arrests were made. The miserable tools of the bad-hearted fanatics slunk away like whipped curs, leaving their pious (?) instigators gnashing their teeth and calling down curses upon McFerran and myself. I don’t think their prayers were ever answered.
“These maudlin soldiers were not to blame. They were mere tools in the hands of the base-hearted men and women who instigated the outrage. This act is only a type of the general conduct of this people during the war who are now whining for union with you.
“I am no professor of Christianity, but if such people are Christians, or your union with them would compose a Christian body, I pray the Giver of all good to incline my heart to heathenism rather than such a mongrel abomination.
“I was living in Boonville when they committed the theft of your church there, and know all about it; but you will get the particulars of that honest (?) act from others.
“I have given you the facts, but have taken no pains, as you see. You may have to re-write it. You are at liberty to insert it in your book over my signature if you wish.
“Your friend, N. W. Harris.”
References wore furnished amply sufficient to endorse the veracity of Dr. Harris, had it needed such endorsement.
A complete history of those perilous times would unveil many similar acts nipped in the bud, or plotted and projected, but defeated by the timely interference of good men.
Many Southern Methodist preachers were threatened with a ride on a rail and a coat of tar and feathers; but the presence of peaceable citizens and the fear of military interference deterred the rabble in most cases from committing the deeds to which they were instigated.
The Rev. B. R. Baxter, now in Montana, and the Rev. H. H. Hedgepeth, now in heaven, and others, were forced to leave their work in Andrew, Holt and adjoining counties in consequence of such threats. Even the persons and lives of all Southern Methodist ministers were in constant peril in that portion of the State until after the Supreme Court of the United States had declared the test oath of the New Constitution unconstitutional. Indeed, not until 1867 was it safe for one of the proscribed and threatened of the M. E. Church, South, to be seen or heard in that part of the State northwest of St. Joseph, as facts hereafter to be narrated will show.
But for the present, and for the sake of some little chronological order, events in Southeast Missouri claim attention; and, first,