“One would suppose that malignity had exhausted itself in the deeds of the foregoing recital. Not so. While on business in Hannibal one day, after the foregoing had occurred, word came that Col. McDaniel and his battalion of the advance guard of the Confederate army under General Price was marching in that direction; and, having left my wife and daughter at home alone, I called upon Col. J. T. K. Hayward, then in command of the post, for a permit to pass out of the city and go to my family, who would necessarily be much alarmed, and explained my situation. Being a member of the Church, a Presbyterian elder, I expected, of course, Christianlike courtesy. But, to my surprise, I was insolently repelled, vindictively insulted, and peremptorily ordered to remain where I was. Stung with disappointment and burning with indignation, I submitted as patiently as I could, and implored commiseration in the name of my unprotected family. Remorseless as a bloodhound and pitiless as a hyena, he was inexorable, and forced me to remain until McDaniel retired and his scare subsided. At the solicitation of leading citizens, he then granted me a permit to go, but accompanied the paper with a gruff intimation that the issues of life and death were in his grasp, and by the nod of his head he ‘could have me shot.’ Perhaps this violence of feeling may have resulted from the fact that the brave Colonel Hayward had, at a recent period, been captured by a Confederate officer, relieved of his watch, his spurs, his purse, his pistols, sword, epaulets, horse and equipments, and paroled on his oath and pledge of honor, both of which he had violated, and was again in arms wreaking vengeance on unarmed and innocent persons. I make no mention of the particulars of the murder of a friendless stranger, laboring under delirium tremens, who had just landed from a steamer, and was by his order shot to death upon the wharf at the city of Hannibal.

“Circumstances indicated that my life and my property were eager objects of the pursuit of this class of men. By day or by night, at all hours, and in different ways, my family were often disturbed and interrupted by them. My wife and daughter were made to perform menial service for any number who chose to demand it; whilst the filthy vagabonds, in the uniform of Federal soldiers, would ransack the premises and deface, destroy and steal anything of value they could find in the house or out of it. One night myself and family were aroused about twelve o’clock by the heavy tread of swift-moving horses, and a loud yell at the door informed us that soldiers—two of whom, calling themselves ‘Tabor and Watson, of Capt. John D. Meredith’s company of the 39th Missouri regiment,’ (which Meredith is now sheriff of Marion county)—had come with orders from their superiors to demand my horse and saddle. They said they were in rapid pursuit of the noted Confederate scout, Bill Anderson, and his command; were directed to press into service whatever they needed; must have my horse, and intended to give no quarter until the last officer and man of the enemy were slain. When this was accomplished they should next turn their attention to those who sympathized with the rebels, and would clean out every man, woman and child, until they had made their lands a desolation and their homes a solitude. Intermingling these threats with vulgar epithets and bitter denunciation, they dashed off; and, as their receding forms faded away in the darkness carrying off my fine young horse, my only means of reaching my appointments at the different churches to preach and perform other ministerial duties, a strange and fearful sensation crept over me, as if sad events lay buried in the future. The curtain was soon lifted. A few days brought the mournful intelligence that ‘Johnson’s battalion had encountered the foe and was annihilated.’ On the plain, and in full view of the city of Centralia, in Boone county, the conflict transpired, and of all the ‘bloody 39th,’ as its commander boastfully called it, who entered the field that day, not a platoon of officers, horses and men escaped death, including my poor horse, which, being ridden by a subaltern officer, is said to have sunk down with his rider in the midst of the battle to rise no more.

“In the order of divine providence friends came to my relief, and I was enabled, with some difficulty, to pursue my work, although much harassed, sorely vexed and often cast down by fears without and cares within, for my life was often threatened.

“In common with other brethren who feared God rather than Cæsar, I was in due time indicted by the grand jury of Marion county for preaching the gospel to lost sinners without first committing perjury by taking a false oath. Arraigned as a felon on my blessed Lord’s account, I felt honored, for the servant is not above his master. I stood at the bar of justice, as he stood before Pontius Pilate; and, although surrounded by murderers, burglars, horse thieves and others of the baser sort, I there remained, attending their calls from court to court, until for very shame the disgraceful and blasphemous scene was closed by the prosecuting lawyer, Walter M. Boulware, Esq., dismissing the suit; and the Hon. William P. Harrison, now acting as Judge of the Court, discharged me and released my securities, who had entered into bond for a large amount to keep me out of jail. Glory be to God! I am still alive; and, unless sooner taken hence, I feel that there are still some years of service in me, which shall be given with a willing heart to that cause for which I have suffered, and am still willing, if need be, to suffer on.

“‘God moves in a mysterious way,

His wonders to perform;

He plants his footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.’

“William Cleaveland.

“Marion County, Mo., May 8, 1869.”